Chapter 2 examines three problems in Heidegger’s interpretations of Plato: the impasse of dialogue and dialectic, Heidegger’s disastrous and putatively Platonic politics, and the reductive approach to Plato’s metaphysics. First, I question his critique of Platonic dialectic by showing that it is already built into the matter as well as the way of writing in Plato’s texts. Second, I show that Heidegger’s ontologizing of political themes in Plato’s writings leads him to a catastrophic “ontological politics” wherein ethics and politics in their concrete sense are completely eclipsed by or absorbed into ontology. Third, I show that the interpretations that Heidegger offers to show that Plato allegedly occluded the original sense of truth and distorted the question of Being. A closer look at the relevant passages as well as other passages that Heidegger overlooked reveals a much more dynamic ontology than what Heidegger sees in Platonism understood as metaphysics. The concluding remarks of the chapter sketch the post-Heideggerian directions leading from these three problems to the Platonism of Gadamer, Strauss, and Krüger.

In the decades of Romanticism a new view on culture emerged: one in which culture was nationally specific (each nation having its own characteristic cultural traditions) and should be seen as process of historical development (rather than the condition of being civilized and refined). In the emergence of this new, historicist and nationally specific idea of culture, an initial impetus was provided by the ‘discovery’ in the 1760s of the epic poems of the ancient Scottish bard Ossian. The figure of Ossian amplified the aesthetics of the ‘sublime’ and a view of the poet as a prophetic, even mantic figure, drawing on a transcendent-spiritual intuition and hence being able to speak with an inspired wisdom that went beyond mere rational cognition. This became enshrined in the poetics of the nascent Romantic movement and fed into the Hegelian notion of poet–prophets as world-historical figures articulating the consciousness of their national communities.

Chapter 5 thus turns to the “old quarrel between philosophy and poetry”. Whereas my starting point in Chapter 4 was the paradox of the written critique of writing, here I begin with the apparent contradiction of Plato’s mimetic critique of mimesis in the Republic. For Gadamer, Strauss, and Krüger, this is key to understanding Plato’s critique of poetry: Plato does not condemn mimesis entirely. Instead, he subordinates the imaginative and persuasive powers of imitative poetry to philosophical goals and thus weaves poetry and imitation into his own masterful compositions. All three readings point differently but decisively to the limits of autonomous or unaided philosophical discourse, and therewith anticipate some of Heidegger’s insights on the necessity of something like poetic thinking.

Latin poetry has always been defined by its relationships with poetry in other languages – first with poetry in ancient Greek, more recently with poetry in the European vernaculars. The Introduction defines the book less as a literary history of Latin poetry across languages, as such, than as a set of essays that offer test cases, sometimes limit cases, for such a literary history. What is promised is a book of intertextual juxtapositions, moving between extreme close-ups and broader treatments of intercultural relationality. A special interest is expressed in the possibilities of two-way poetic conversation across languages. The Introduction concludes with trailers for the book’s seven chapters.

This chapter traces the growth of Tennyson’s Idylls of the King from his earliest ideas for an Arthurian epic in his notebooks from the 1830s to the completion of his twelve-book epic in 1886. It examines his treatment of his Arthurian sources, most importantly Malory, and attempts to capture the reactions of nineteenth-century readers to the Idylls by drawing on a range of contemporary reviews. It is difficult to overestimate Tennyson’s role in recentring the Arthurian legend in popular consciousness, and the final section briefly explores the influence of the Idylls on aspects of Victorian popular culture.

Keats uses the word ‘interread’ to refer to the way that a letter written to one person will also be read by another. The suggestion of interaction and intersubjectivity implied by that ‘inter’ prefix sheds light on Keats’s representations of shared reading in his poetry and letters. This chapter also considers his portrayal of women readers, especially in relation to Fanny Brawne, whose letters about reading with Keats, as well as his sister Fanny Keats, offer insight into the boundaries of privacy and sharing. Where Keats’s early poems seem eager to get inside the feeling of reading, elsewhere, his manner of picturing reading from the outside aims at a more detached form of sympathy, one which avoids intruding too far into another person’s inner experience. Shared reading subsequently comes to represent for him the possibility of connection at a distance.

Beginning with the Paolo and Francesca episode from Dante’s Inferno, this chapter focuses on rewritings of the episode by Hunt in The Story of Rimini and by Byron in Don Juan and ‘Francesca of Rimini’. These rewritings provide insight into the erotics of shared reading and the subsequent uncertainty surrounding Francesca’s claim that, when she and Paolo settled down to read together, they did so ‘without suspicion’. Teasing out the ambiguities in Dante’s text, Hunt and Byron suggest that reading allows desire to be acknowledged in tacit ways that invite or evade self-awareness (or self-suspicion). Their interpretations of Francesca’s speech also offer reflections on their own poetic styles, with Hunt questioning the difference between naturalness and artfulness, and Byron questioning the sincerity of veiled self-disclosure.

This chapter considers what kind of utopian articulations can be glimpsed in contemporary British experimental poetry. Three experimental poets writing in the 2010s are analysed in detail: Sean Bonney, Verity Spott, and Callie Gardner. The chapter situates these poets within the British experimental poetry scene, tracing an ecosystem of small-scale independent publishing. DIY poetry magazines such as Zarf (produced in Cardiff, Leeds, and Glasgow) and presses such as the87press, Aquifer, DATABLEED, Sad Press, and many others operated outside of formalised spheres of paid labour. In the 2010s, communities of British poets, publishers, audiences, and readers sustained themselves through a non-commercial ethos of gift exchange. This ethos was explicitly utopian in its attempt to construct an alternative to capitalism through non-alienated economic and social structures. Whilst Herbert Marcuse’s utopian theorisation of the 1960s counterculture feels relevant to this moment in the British experimental poetry scene, the chapter explores how many of these poets expressed scepticism about the form’s inherent political potential. For them, politics, rather than aesthetics, contained the germs of utopian possibility. Their experimental works offer precursors to a futurity that is not yet here, but the arrival of which is necessary for the survival of progressive politics.

Cohen was first known as a poet, and on the basis of his first volume of poetry he was described as Canada’s leading poet. As the 1965 documentary Ladies and Gentleman, Mr. Leonard Cohen attests, he became a celebrity in Canada on the basis of his poetry even before he had recorded an album. He continued to publish poetry throughout his career, and the relationship of the poems to the lyrics is interesting and complicated. Cohen’s early poetry is more modernist, largely eschewing rhyme or regular rhythm, while his later poems are often similar to his lyrics. Poetry inhabits both novels in various ways. Lawrence Breavman enjoys a first name that nods to and withdraws Lawrentian possibilities, and the strategies of the poet are all over Beautiful Losers: repetition, anaphora, listing, grammatical and syntactical dislocation, a variety of forms, symbolism, making strange, surrealism. Sometimes, Cohen publishes his song lyrics as poems, sometimes verbatim, sometimes in a different form. Other poems are quite different from his songs set to music, yet he seems to have thought of his poems and lyrics collectively as “songs.”

A fictional covenant is established to inquire into humanity. Benjamin Franklin’s writings help define the tasks of the covenant. The fragmentation of the German nation is lamented. Frederick the Great’s correspondence with Voltaire is cited at length to provide insight into the problems facing a monarch confronted with German disunity, war, and the ideal of Humanity. The personal and political failures of Emperor Joseph II are the subject of discussion, introduce by Friedrich Gottlob Klopstock’s ode to Joseph. Contemporary German poetry is described in prophetic terms, but it fails to address contemporary political issues. The chapter closes with Friedrich Leopold Graf zu Stolberg’s Ode to the Crown Prince of Denmark.

“The Poet” is what Adorno calls a “carpet essay,” which weaves its announced topics of the poet and poetry into a host of other subjects: character and expression; reception and abandonment; beauty and love; the present, new, and near; the Neoplatonic One or “whole”; and a fundamental “flowing” or “metamorphosis.” Chapter 8 focuses on Emerson’s romantic and proto-existentialist pronouncement that “the man is only half himself, the other half is his expression”; his theory that language “is fossil poetry”; and the proto-pragmatic picture of language in his statement that “all language is vehicular and transitive, and is good, as ferries and horses are, for conveyance, not as farms and houses are, for homestead.” Other topics treated are the place of what Kant calls “unbounded” ideas in Emerson’s account of poetry, thinking as a mixture of reception and activity, and the connections and differences of “Experience” and “The Poet.”