Review: Patti Smith – The New Jerusalem

In 2005, Patti Smith released a well-received book of poetry, Auguries of Innocence, that clearly indicated her affections for the work of William Blake. Some thirteen years later, the influence of Blake is once more evident in her latest collection, a series of seven prose-poems entitled The New Jerusalem, a handsome volume that has been released by the Nexus Institute in a bilingual, English and Dutch edition.

As well as the poems themselves, the book includes a series of illustrations, some of them reproductions of Smith’s own work such as her silkscreen print of South Tower Copper. The Nexus Library series (of which this is a part) has been an eclectic mix, including works by Mario Vargas Llosa and Garry Kasparov as well as Smith’s latest offering, and the images and texts are preceded by an essay written by Rob Riemen, founder of the Nexus Institute and a longtime admirer of Smith’s. It is his introduction that offers the clearest link to Blake as he recounts a meeting the two of them had in New York:

“I’ve just started on a poem that’ll be called The New Jerusalem.”

“The new Jerusalem! Like the prophesy at the end of The Revelation of St. John in the New Testament? Or like the visionary poem Jerusalem by William Blake?” I knew what a passion she had for that eighteenth-century poet and painter.

The immediate cause of the poem is actually the Trump administration’s move of the US Embassy to Jerusalem and thus the political act of recognising the “universal” city as the capital of Israel. Regarding literary influences, Smith herself goes on to list a long line, including Shelley, Oscar Wilde, Arthur Rimbaud, Andrei Tarkovsky, Allen Ginsberg – and the one that surprises Riemen the most – Jesus Christ. Indeed, the most interesting aspect of the introduction is Smith’s insistence of the interlinking of art and religion. She cites Wilde’s De Profundis to argue that Christ was an artist, and though it is a little more oblique she certainly knows of Blake’s repeated references to Christianity as art. This becomes part of Rieman’s argument, that we have replaced concepts such as soul, forgiveness, God and creation with innovation, popularity and consumption, and that all art – not merely that of the sixties and seventies – is an art of counter-culture. He cites the line from Blake’s Laocoön, “Art Degraded, Imagination Denied, War Governed the Nations”, but with regard to Patti Smith’s ideas he could also have quoted: “A Poet a Painter a Musician an Architect: the Man Or Woman who is not one of these is not a Christian”.

Riemens links this very Blakean conception of the Christian art of imagination to a counter-culture, operating both against the religious right of contemporary America but also current political trends of Trump’s America, which he mournfully compares to the tribulations of Lincoln, a party linked by name only across the centuries. Despite this somewhat melancholy end to the introductory essay, however, begin with a much more powerful tone: “Matter of Time”, the opening piece, is redolent of Ginsberg and, to my eyes, Yeats as well as Blake, as in the following passage:

The new time slouched then accelerated, visceral, chaotic, yet soon governed with a terrible lucidity. God usurped by Goal. Chemical commerce the prime directive. Cultivators initiated an unremittent engineering of nature. Controllers enforced a neo-naturalization, devoid of charity or human quality. Mercenary priests devised the moral center. Iron and steel rose from the face of the holy city, the earth shuddered, and it was holy no more.

The accompanying image, South Tower Copper, indicates that there is something about this passage that is explicitly imagist, of a tower rising in the literal city of Jerusalem to form the new embassy. At the same time, it is also clearly visionary, and while some of this verse literally sticks in the mouth as I read it (“enforced a neo-naturalization devoid of charity”) this is, perhaps, appropriate to the language of Ulro. Although not quite the howl of Ginsberg’s poem, there is something about this opening passage that is very reminiscent of his accusations against Moloch:

Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!

The first poem is also a retelling of Blake’s account, in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, as to the origins of religion. Originally the preserve of ancient poets, who “animated all sensible objects with Gods or Geniuses calling them by the names and adorning them with the properties of woods, rivers, mountains, lakes, cities, nations, and whatever their enlarged & numerous senses could perceive”, this inspired form of worship was soon abstracted into a system and “thus began Priesthood”. For Smith, modern priests are consumer culture, automation and mechanisation which drives us along as part of alienated modernity.

It is against such mechanisation, the Moloch of Ginsberg or Blake’s Ulro, that she is clearly writing her new Christian art, inspired very much by those two poets as well as the other artists and writers identified by Rieman. Thus in the second piece, “What manner of herald flies over”, offers a visionary account of a Caravaggio, not explicitly identified but probably his “Decapitation of St John the Baptist”, the marking of an end of an epoch of art that is followed by a scene of literal sacrifice of cattle: it is the institution of priesthood, but also – via it’s title, “Triumph and Deceit” – a mocking reference to the politics of the 45th President of the United States, who sacrifices truth in the service of power.

The style of all these and the remaining pieces – “The Alchemical Sovereign”, “Prophecy’s Lullaby”, “The Cup” and “A Time of Gifts” – is highly allusive. That it has its roots in a specific political event is not immediately evident without Rieman’s introduction, and these could be read as a series of narrative images that are frequently hauntingly beautiful in their simplicity:

In a dream, a woman gave me a small object, wrapped in brown tissue. It was a cup, delicate, near transparent, created long ago by one who had aspired to transform mute material into gold… He saw carnage and famine and the bleached arms of power. He saw himself shackled to futile ambition. None shall enlighten, he cried, save a nature I shall never know.

Throughout all the poems, allusions to Blake are frequently as delicate as the porcelain cup that Smith holds, but they are very much in evidence. As “Prophecy’s Lullaby”, drawing both on Blake’s famous declarations of prophecy and his Songs of Innocence, is especially redolent of his aphoristic style in works such as The Marriage and Auguries of Innocence. It is also a key to The New Jerusalem, a series of songs that are intended to revive that lost idea of a soul through the act of prophecy. The collection ends with Smith collecting up her writing tools as a voice inside her tells her that she is (re)born, a voice of “inexhaustible good”.

 

Patti Smith, The New Jerusalem, Amsterdam: Nexus Library, 2018. Bilingual edition, 76pp. €20, available from nexus-instituut.nl/en/publication/the-new-jerusalem.

From the Collection: Blake’s Progress – R. F. Nelson

Quite possibly one of the strangest books that I’ve ever come across – and this from a man who has spent more than half a lifetime poring over Jerusalem the Emanation of the Giant Albion and The Book of Urizen, R. F. “Ray” Nelson’s Blake’s Progress is a science fiction from 1975 that follows the progress of one William Blake – and, more importantly, his wife Catherine – in their struggle against the time traveller Urizen throughout alternate universes.

While I let that sentence sink in, Radell Faraday Nelson is worthy of attention. Born in 1931 and 86 years young, Nelson began writing and drawing in the 1940s and 1950s. I had jokingly tweeted on first beginning Blake’s Progress that it read like a Philip K. Dick take on Blake – not realising at that point that Nelson’s first novel, The Ganymede Takeover, was written in collaboration with Dick and that he had been with the writer in the last few days before his death in 1982 (which you can read about on his web site). Most famous for the short story that was turned into John Carpenter’s 1988 movie They Live, Nelson himself considers Blake’s Progress to be his most successful novel.

The book is bizarre but extremely entertaining – and terribly written in parts, which does add to its charm. After a very brief prologue which introduces the League of the Zoa (more on which below), the story proper begins with Catherine Boucher in 1782 as she meets her future husband. It is Kate who is the hero of the novel – not only does it begin and end with her, but Nelson suggests that she was the real talent behind the partnership: as her husband worked on crazy illuminated books that no one wished to read, Catherine produced the more commercially viable prints that kept body and soul together. It is also William who is the husband in distress, saved by his wife when seduced and taken captive by Urizen and Vala.

The relationship between William and Catherine is one of the most fascinating elements of the book – and Bill does not come out of the comparison well. Throughout the novel he is portrayed as sexually repressed, stubborn to the point of stupidity and selfish through and through – a thoroughly Urizenic figure who, it turns out, fathered Urizen on Vala while travelling through time.

Nelson clearly knows a fair amount about both Blake’s works and life, though there are some bizarre gaps (such as his insistence that Blake had to find a new way to print because he didn’t own a printing press). The Four Zoas and The Book of Urizen provide, perhaps, the strongest guides to the plot: Urizen is a member of the League of the Zoa, a group of time travellers, and frustrated with the progress of history he constantly travels backwards in time, attempting to change reality (with Los and the other Zoas constantly seeking to revert the universe to its more usual order). William, through his visions, makes contact with Urizen and passes on the Zoa’s power of time and dimension travel; in one such alternate universe (created when Catherine and Blake sabotage biological weapons that the empire of Albion seeks to use against the Americas – in a twist on the events of America a Prophecy) they encounter Urizen and Vala (who is both Urizen’s mother and William’s lover) leading a race of malevolent serpent people who have replaced humanity.

At its best, the writing has a certain brio but Nelson really can’t do dialogue (William, Catherine and even Urizen converse in an ersatz Mary Poppins-esque “London-ese”), yet the following passage will give a taste of the bizarre settings that, ultimately, could have no other source than in the works of William Blake:

A moment later they turned a corner and came in sight of where they might have expected to look over downtown London. Kate gasped. “Look!”

On the opposite bank of the Thames, towering over the other structures, was William’s giant statue of Urizen, unchanged except that it was no longer stepping on the serpent god of Oothoon.

“He’s done it again,” William groaned, then added, more cheerfully, “But he must have liked my statue to have gone to the trouble of including it in this new reality.”

Blake’s Progress by R. F. Nelson, published by Laser Books, 1975.

 

Blake and Data: William Blake on Twitter and the Web, June 2018

The following is a brief analysis of data collected on William Blake trends on Twitter and via Google Search/News for June 2018. Tweets were collated via Twitter Archiver and a data miner plug-in for Chrome used to collect Google items. For a general explanation of some of the assumptions made in the following stats, please see the post at zoamorphosis.com/2018/06/blake-and-data-searches-and-twitter-may-2018/.

Twitter

There was a great deal of variation in June, caused principally by a spike on 16 July which, as can be seen from the frequency chart below, is an extreme outlier caused by a large number of people retweeting a story from the Spanish news site, El Pais. This anomaly (nearly 1200 tweets) skewed the distribution too far to the right, with a standard deviation of nearly 200 above or below an average of some 400 tweets. As such, the chart below shows the distribution across the other 29 days of June, with a mean of 366 tweets per day and a standard deviation of 120 which is comparable to the previous month. Likewise, the total number of tweets – 11,690 – was comparable to the number in May which was slightly more than 11,000.

In contrast to last month, the most popular tweet by a considerable margin was not a quotation by Blake or one of his images but a story form El Pais.

Published on 16 June, the story in El Pais, entitled “La pesadilla de William Blake” (“The nightmare of William Blake”) and about how our docility towards machines and automation has left us susceptible to such things as fake news, is fascinating for a number of reasons. First of all, it is an extremely well-written and thoughtful piece that demonstrates a detailed knowledge of Blake’s work and philosophy: this is far from a mindless invocation of Blake, and while I would not necessarily agree with every aspect of Jordi Soler’s analysis, very much does strike a chord with me and I can appreciated his work. That such a piece was widely shared on Twitter made me optimistic about the demand of a wider audience for more than mere Blake platitudes.

The second observation, however, is that this is a story that largely passed by the English speaking world. It was not translated or offered in English and so (as far as I am able to tell) the vast majority if not all retweets were in the Spanish-speaking world. At this stage (and I doubt this will change much in the future) Blake-related items on Twitter are dominated by the USA and UK, so the fact that this story went viral is interesting in and of itself.

Of the other tweets that topped more than 100 shares, two stand out for different reasons. The first was the announcement by Tate of their upcoming series of exhibitions for 2019, which includes William Blake as well as Van Gogh and Dorothea Tanning. While there were 269 retweets of this specific tweet itself in June, there were many others which repurposed the material in some shape or form.

The final tweet to catch my eye was by @ArtLify. The reason for this was not that there was a particularly huge amount of shares (212) but that it is one of the more esoteric of Blake’s quotes: “Some see nature all ridicule and deformity and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.” Taken from a letter to the Revd. Dr Trusler in 1799, this is an unusual Blake quote and almost certainly was widely shared as much because of the associated image by Irene Suchocki as for the words themselves, it demonstrates how more obscure elements of Blake’s works can circulate widely when repackaged.

As with last month, the following numbers are drawn from self-identified locations in Twitter.

Once again, the USA and UK dominate, a pattern that I would fully expect to be consistent across forthcoming months. As such, it is what happens below these two entries that is most interesting. Something that is perhaps consonant with the popularity of the El Pais story is the strong showing of a number of Spanish and South/Central American countries: leaving aside Brazil, this group constitutes some 896 entries (including a number of countries such as Peru and Honduras not listed on the above chart). Again, leaving aside the UK and USA, this distribution can be visualised as follows:

Twitter results (excluding USA/UK) June 2018

As can be seen from this map, there is a significant distribution of tweets from across the continents, with a greater density from Europe, South America and India.

Google Search/News

In terms of more general, non-social media items posted to the web in June, this comprised 238 general items and 200 news stories. Main headline items included the El Pais and Tate stories noted above, although obviously these tend not to aggregate in the same way as Twitter items. Combining both together (not all entries had a date) gives a number of daily posts as follows:

As with the Twitter frequency analysis, one entry (in this case 1 story on 17 June) is very much an outlier. Removing this provides a mean across the month of just over 14 posts a day with a standard deviation of 5.25.

With regard to categories into which the various stories/posts could be classified, Arts (including anything with a visual element and also dramatic performances, but mainly Blake’s images) was clearly the largest, followed by Poetry (mostly self-explanatory, but also including quotations), Culture and Society (a more portmanteau term) and Music.

Finally, where possible all sources for sites posting information about Blake were identified as follows:

As with Twitter, the UK and USA dominate, but activity below these two provides a visually interesting map of stories about Blake below:

Google search/news results (excluding USA/UK) June 2018

Europe dominates (with Italy in the lead in this instance), but there is also a significant showing across South and Central America again, along with a scattering of stories from Asia, Turkey, Canada and Australia.

Blakespotting: News about William Blake, June 2018

The big news during June was Tate Britain’s announcement that it will recreate William Blake’s failed 1809 exhibition in 2019. Speaking to Robert Dex at the London Evening Standard, Alex Farquharson said that the main purpose of the exhibition is to shift the perception of Blake as primarily a poet to a visual artist. The show will open next September and will be one of the biggest displays of Blake’s work since the 2000 exhibition that also took place there.

Although it was actually released at the end of May, Patti Smith’s The New Jerusalem, a prose poem written in response to the Trump Administration’s decision to move the US Embassy to Jerusalem, became available in the UK in early June. As well as her gnomic, Blake-inspired text, it includes a series of images produced by Smith in recent years. Smith gave a talk at the Festival of Voice in Cardiff and we’ll be carrying a review of the book soon. Other publications in June included Julia Fine’s debut novel, What Should be Wild, with nods to Blake in the form of the characters the Blakeleys and a setting of Urizon, while Hiroshi Unno’s The Art of Fantasy, Sci-Fi and Steampunk demonstrates the influence of Blake among other artists on modern fantasy artworks.

A truly wonderful piece of Blake-inspired art came via the Edinburgh College of Art’s end of year degree show. Jack Handscombe, a student at the ECA, produced an installation of a figure dressed in racing leathers, crouched above a keyboard as a palm tree sprouts from its back. Entitled “After Blake’s Newton (After Paolozzi)”, as Duncan Macmillan, reviewing the show for The Scotsman, observed, the piece is a witty parody of the Paolozzi statue that stands in front of the British Library, suggesting that “digital is all very well, but nature will break out”.

Neko Case released a new album, Hell-On, was released on June 1. At least one reviewer (Ludovic Hunter-Tilney at the Financial Times) noted the Blakean connection to the track “Last Lion of Albion”, as in the chorus:

Last lion of Albion
They’ll use you for centuries to come
Your wound’s the main road into London
You’ll feel extinction
When you see your face on their money

Another musical performance announced during June is Eve Beglarian’s The Marriage of Heaven and Hell at, which will be performed at the New York Bang on a Can summer music festival.

Also in the arts, a new show in London was announced, Wirework. Written by Daleen Kruger, the play itself was actually written in Afrikaans in 2009 but has recently been translated, telling the story of The Owl House, a remarkable piece of outsider art by Helen Martins and Koos Malgas. The pair created an extraordinary environment in the middle of the Karoo in the Easter Cape, taking their inspiration from Omar Khayyam, the Bible and William Blake to fill the museum with wonderful statues. The play will perform at the Tristan Bates Theatre in London from July 3-7. Another performance that carried the spirit of William Blake came from Keith Hennessy’s Sink at The Lab in San Francisco. According to the Bay Area Reporter, Hennessy’s dance and chant invokes both Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and Blake’s Songs of Innocence. Also in theatre, Lynne Kaufman’s one act play, William Blake in Hollywood, will show in Cedar City in Utah. Exhibitions during June included William Blake in Colour at the William Blake Gallery, and the owner of the gallery, John Windle, gave a talk on the artist and poet during Melbourne Rare Books Week.

Finally, during June we were also reminded of the Blakean references in Westworld (“Auguries of Innocence”), as a signifier of English identity according to the BBC’s poll (“Jerusalem”), that the Libertines nearly took a more Blakean name, the Albions, and you could have heard a group of Blake scholars – Michael Phillips, Linda Freedman, Susan Matthews and me – discuss the Life and Works of William Blake on the BBC World Service’s programme The Forum.

Review: Rock and Romanticism, edited by James Rovira

The connection between rock music and Romanticism is a longstanding one. Thomas Goldthwaite, reviewing an Elvis concert in Phoenix, Arizona in 1970, compared the rock star (not entirely favourably) to a mixture of Lord Byron and Davy Crocket, and Camille Paglia was to repeat the comparison – sans Davy Crocket – twenty years later in her sprawling Sexual Personae. Byron doesn’t get his own star turn in this latest collection edited by James Rovira, although the artist formerly known as Shelley (as Percy Bysshe has tended to be referred to in recent years) does have a particularly fine chapter dedicated to him. Instead, the essays here largely concentrate on Wordsworth and Blake as influential figures in the field of rock music that runs from the sixties until the present day. This particular review will focus on those chapters dealing with Blake, although this is by no means a comment on the remaining sections that outline Wordsworth’s role in defining contemporary music.

James Rovira’s introduction to Rock and Romanticism: Blake, Wordsworth, and Rock from Dylan to U2, explores the relationship between its two defining terms and is very good on the established – but not unproblematic – definition of Romanticism, with Michael Löwy and Robert Sayre’s Romanticism Against the Tide of Modernity being an important text. The most significant element here is Löwy and Sayre’s notion of Romanticism as “opposition to capitalism in the name of pre-capitalist values” (cited p.xiv), which is important in terms of defining the attitudes of both Romanticism and rock music outside of the essentially modernising strands of Marxism. This definition works very clearly in one important aspect in terms of of rock music as not “selling out”, a theme which runs through the Situationist Internationale through punk and into grunge, although plenty of Marxist and left-wing critics have noted the intensely capitalist nature of contemporary popular music, the tensions of which are evident in some of the essays in this collection. Marxist readers of Blake such as Saree Makdisi would probably make much more of this tension, but I have never seen Blake as a proto-Marxist but rather, as with William Godwin, a proto-anarchist – which is one reason why he is such a good role model for rock music and something that could have been pursued more forcefully in one or two of the essays here. Rovira is mildly, and correctly, critical of the privileging of the conceptual over the affective in Löwy and Sayre’s definition of Romanticism, that it tends to ignore the aesthetic qualities of the movement in favour of economic, social and political contextualisations (p.xvi), but at the same time the use of this approach does provide a coherence and direction to the discussion of relations between rock music and Romanticism throughout the collection.

As well as considerations of direct influences of Blake – such as actual settings of his lyrics to music or allusions to his poetry – some of the theoretical discussion in the book revolves around Raymond William’s “structures of feeling”, the observation that artistic movements are rarely acknowledged at the time because “both participants and observers are unable to objectively distance themselves far enough from it to classify it” (p.37). As such, influence may be parallel and affective rather than direct and referential, and Lisa Crafton echoes an approach adopted by myself, Steve Clark and Tristanne Connolly in Blake 2.0 to draw attention to models of reception that emphasise affiliation or resistance as much as concepts of transmission and inheritance (p.67). As a very personal aside, it made me laugh to see my own words used against me as, once or twice as detailed below, I would have really appreciated a few more examples of such “patrilineal concepts”. Nonetheless, on the whole I agree with this approach (I would have to say that, wouldn’t I) as it offers a much more allusive and sophisticated model for discussion Blake’s reception.

The first essay in the collection is a perfect example of just such a sophisticated reading. Luke Walker, whose work on the 1960s counterculture and Blake is a fantastic addition to reception studies of Blake, offers a wonderfully subtle interpretation of Blake, Bob Dylan and Allen Ginsberg. Noting that there has not been a great deal of academic work on Dylan and Blake despite bold assertions, as in the Cambridge Companion to Bob Dylan, that “Bob Dylan is the spiritual twin of… William Blake” (p.3), Walker provides a delightfully nuanced reading of how much Dylan really knew about Blake – and how little he may have wanted to be influenced by him, at least in the 1960s. Personally, I am perfectly happy with the notion that Dylan didn’t actually know Blake at all well, an argument pursued by Tristanne Connolly with regard to The Doors in her article “How Much Did Jim Morrison Know about William Blake?” – the Romantic could still have been important as the grain of sand (literally in Dylan’s case) to inspire various pearls of his own music. Walker provides a compelling and extremely well-thought through argument regarding Dylan’s struggling anxiety of influence towards Blake but also, in many respects more significantly, towards Ginsberg. Certainly in the later decades of his career Dylan could be much more relaxed in his relationship with Blake’s work, indicating a renewed respect towards the poet in an interview from 1992 and incorporating cut-ups (after William Burroughs) of Blake’s “The Tyger” in “Roll on John”. Again, Dylan’s reading of Blake does not need to be particularly deep to be significant: as Walker indicates, throughout the 1960s Blakean texts operated in a rhizomatic, fragmentary fashion, cropping up as aphorisms and graffiti which seemed entirely appropriate to the inventor of the proverbs of hell (p.9).

The next essay on Blake, Douglas T. Root’s “William Blake: The Romantic Alternative”, is the most frustrating for me and the one where I would have preferred a little less free-form, allusive structures of feelings and a little more rigorous – Urizenic, even – patrilineal heritage. This essay was more frustrating because I essentially agree with Root’s argument that Blake’s attitude towards art, or more accurately the accepted myth of his attitude towards art as someone who once wrote “I must Create a System or be enslav’d by another Man’s”, is precisely why he does provide an allusional, parallel model for much contemporary music. From the Pre-Raphaelites through the Surrealists to BritArt, Blake has frequently been seen as a “total artist” – one who lived entirely for his art and someone who, unlike many of the other Romantics, never sold out. Actually, the reality of Blake’s personal situation was much more complex than that, and ignores the fact that the editions of Young’s Night Thoughts and Blair’s The Grave were intended as fully capitalist publishing endeavours for which Blake would have happily sold (if not sold out) his skills for a much higher price were he able. Nonetheless, one legacy of Blake’s failure in his life time to be a successful artist – along with his continued faith in his own art and abilities – has been an enduring, and sometimes essential, myth of the Romantic artist alone against the world.

My frustration with Root’s essay is that, by concentrating on Blake’s influence on alternative American rock music and pretty much ignoring entirely the British scene he effectively eviscerates much of his argument. Blake’s influence on figures such as Kurt Cobain is definitely present, but also much refracted: Cobain recorded a soundtrack to Burrough’s “The ‘Priest’ They Called Him”, and Allen Ginsberg (who, according to Sam Kashner, rejected Cobain’s application to the Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics) was part of the Nirvana front man’s induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. In Gus van Sant’s poetic retelling of his final hours, Last Days, Cobain is renamed Blake, but by ignoring the British connection, Root cuts off a direct line into rock music: Malcolm McLaren studied Blake at art school, Derek Jarman name checks the Romantic constantly throughout his movies, and Jah Wobble (John Wardle), bassist in Public Image Ltd alongside John Lyden, recorded an entire album based on Blake’s works, The Inspiration of William Blake (1995). I am by no means so crass a reader of reception to insist that direct transmission is the basis for meaningful readings of Blake’s afterlife, but the addition of “punk Blake” would have made the argument for “grunge Blake” much more convincing.

By contrast, Nicole Lobdell’s essay “Digging at the Roots: Martha Redbone’s The Garden of Love: Songs of William Blake“, is direct, simple and one of the most joyous essays in the collection, although that probably reflects my attitude that this is among the best musical adaptations of Blake’s work ever to be made. Lobdell’s contribution is less theoretically complex than that of Root and Walker, probably because when dealing with such an overt piece of musical reception issues of the anxiety of influence or importance of structures of feeling tend not to apply. Instead, the chapter offers a detailed and comprehensive account of the contexts of Redbone’s album, outlining how her Appalachian ballad is partly an adaptation of older, English forms to create what she terms “Appalachian Romanticism” (pp,51-2). This chapter is probably weaker in terms of theoretical readings of Romanticism – I did cringe at an appeal to “the universality of the poetry and the timelessness of the Romantic ideals that the music embodies” – but it is excellent in terms of exploring the minute particulars of both the Appalachian context of Redbone’s music and close readings of the tracks on the album.

The final essay that deals with Blake, Lisa Crafton’s “‘Tangle of Matter and Ghost’: U2, Leonard Cohen, and Blakean Romanticism”, is considerably more sophisticated – and an essay towards I am ever so slightly more ambivalent. It’s greatest achievement is to inculcate a greater sympathy towards U2, who for me embody a capitalist sellout of rock music that tends towards an ersatz version of Romanticism. Crafton demonstrates that U2’s interest in Blake has existed for a much longer period than I had realised, and offers a much more generous understanding of their political engagement in terms of Löwy and Sayre’s notions of Romanticism which, if I never quite fully agree with, I did come to appreciate much more. The vision of Blake that U2 sees may sometimes be my greatest enemy, but what I cannot doubt – quite clearly from their recent albums Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience – is that the group’s appreciation of Blake has been an enduring and honest one. Regarding the link to Leonard Cohen, I was slightly more perplexed: Crafton seems to follow a line that Cohen operates more in terms of a Blakean/Romantic aesthetic – I don’t really have a problem with this, but also Cohen seems to know Blake fairly directly, as when he invoked the poet in a 1988 interview.

This review has focussed on the chapters dealing with the reception of Blake in Rock and Romanticism and, as such, neglects those that deal with Wordsworth or other aspects. That is no comment on their quality – David Hogsette’s chapter on Rush and Romanticism, for example, is an essay in pure, unalloyed joy, and some of the contributions on Wordsworth offer sophisticated readings of musical contexts and influences. The subtitle, relating music to Blake and Wordsworth, doesn’t always work (Lorenzo Sorbo’s final chapter on the Scapigliatura is fascinating but feels as though it belongs to a different collection) and at times I would have preferred either a more comprehensive collection on the influence of Romanticism throughout rock music – Shelley and Byron are spectres that have haunted the dreams of far too many wannabe rock gods – or, alternatively, a collection that dealt more intensely with William Blake. The latter, perhaps, could have extended the boundaries of rock into other genres, such as pop evocations (one of my favourite settings remains Blur’s “Magpie”, the b-side to their single “Girls and Boys”), as well as exploring the English music scene, where William Blake thrives in the work of artists as diverse as Van Morrison (mentioned in passing several times), Julian Cope, The Fall and Pete Doherty. Some of these are dealt with in the follow up volume, that explores post-punk, Goth and Metal, and in any case these desires also reflect my intense enthusiasm for this book: Rovira’s decision to deploy Löwy and Sayre throughout the collection gives it a coherence that is unexpected in an edited volume, creating an extended argument regarding Romanticism’s influence on contemporary music that is frequently compelling and always fascinating.

 

James Rovira (ed.), Rock and Romanticism: Blake, Wordsworth, and Rock from Dylan to U2, Lanham: Lexington Books, 2018.

Blake and Data – searches and Twitter, May 2018

The following is a brief analysis of data collected on William Blake trends on Twitter and via Google Search/News for May 2018. Tweets were collated via Twitter Archiver and a data miner plug-in for Chrome used to collect Google items. The various data is included in a spreadsheet with “raw” and, where possible, “cleaned” (i.e. references to William Blake that do not reference the Romantic artist/poet removed) versions provided.

Twitter

During May, 11,236 tweets were posted, the majority of them retweets. The chart below shows the daily number of tweets that included the phrase “William Blake” in reference to the artist/poet.

As the above chart shows, there was considerable variation across the month with regard to how many tweets were posted or retweeted. The spike on day 13 is almost entirely due to the appearance of a tweet by @41Strange of Blake’s paintings of The Great Red Dragon (discussed later). The average number of tweets was 360 per day, with a standard distribution as illustrated below – which also shows the 836 tweets on May 13 to be very much a statistical anomaly.

Unsurprisingly, the vast majority of popular tweets were either short quotations from Blake or posts of his pictures.

The most surprising thing about this chart for me is that clearly the most popular shared tweet for May 2018 was an image of Oberon, Titania and Puck with dancing fairies. The image appeared on multiples sources, but the most commonly retweeted was a modified version of the painting posted by @ArtPicsChannel at the end of April (the account regularly retweets this image).

The original painting is held at Tate Britain in London and is watercolour and graphite on paper (it is included below for comparison to the Art Pics Channel version). As the Tate catalogue entry indicates, it probably represents an attempt by Blake to capitalise on the popularity of depictions of Shakespeare’s works in the 1780s, in this instance by illustrating Titania’s instructions to her fairy train in the final scene of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

What is particularly significant about this illustration to me is that of all the works by Blake I would have expected to see shared among hundred of users, it would not have been this painting.

Oberon, Titania and Puck with Fairies Dancing c.1786 William Blake 1757-1827 Presented by Alfred A. de Pass in memory of his wife Ethel 1910 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N02686

Newton and the Ancient of Days, for example, were shared, but only 87 times in the case of the former and a mere 36 times in the case of the latter. With over 285k followers, @ArtPicsChannel tweets tend to be disseminated widely, and this has been the only image by Blake posted to the account since March 9 (when an illustration from Dante’s Divine Comedy did not appear to gain much traction). The fact that other Blake pictures do not go viral in the same way from the account – including the original version rather than the red-tinged one – indicates that there is something about this particular image that appeals to Twitter users, probably because the dramatic red and black looks effective on a range of devices. @ArtPicsChannel has itself retweeted the image 43 times this year alone (and only once for the original), seeming to return to it every few days as a means of gaining audience.

Less surprising to me was the prevalence of retweets of a series of Blake paintings dealing with the theme of the Great Red Dragon from the Book of Revelation. The original source for this was @41Strange on 13 May and this tweet quickly went viral and continues to be shared. This account has a similar number of followers as @ArtPicsChannel (214k in this instance) and this is a collection of images which attracted a significant number of comments discussing the Hannibal Lecter series of films, novels and television programmes.

Of the remaining tweets above 100, “The Tyger” or variants thereof is (for me unsurprisingly) popular, but I personally didn’t expect to see so many references to “Night” from Songs of Innocence. Nearly all the retweets of “The moon, like a flower…” come from the popular account @ArtLify (37.5k followers). “The Tyger” was also the source for another popular tweet, a tribute by @C3rmenDraws which, frankly, does a better job of capturing tigers than Blake’s original. Most of the remaining popular tweets are fairly unexceptional and largely represent proverbs from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, a perennial favourite on Twitter. Of the foreign language ones, “Para la abeja laboriosa no hay tiempo de estar triste” is a Spanish translation of “The busy bee has no time for sorrow”, “Vedere un mondo in un granello di sabbia…” is Italian for “To see a world in a grain of sand…”, and Google Translate informs me that “Deneyim dedi?imiz ?ey, yitirdi?imiz masumiyetimizdir” is Turkish for “What we call experience is our innocence”, which strictly speaking doesn’t seem to be verbatim Blake at all. Finally, it’s worth noting that the Spanish “La exuberancia es belleza” (112 tweets) was slightly more popular than the English original, “Exuberance is beauty” (111).

Regarding the point of origin for these and other tweets, where Twitter stores location information the top sources for tweets were as follows:

Unsurprisingly, the USA was by far the largest source of tweets, at nearly 3,000, with the UK in a rather distant second at 1,011. At this stage, it is too early in this project to begin drawing any conclusions regarding other countries: this is simply something I wish to track over the coming year to gain some sense of which countries tend to interact with Blake most in this very general sense. One thing to note is that this list is far from complete, particularly where Twitter provides information in a non-Latin script. The chart below offers another visualisation of the data above:

Tweets on William Blake, May 2018, by country of origin

Google Search/News

Using a data miner plug in to scrape Google searches on a regular basis, a data set of some 286 search entries (that is pages indexed by Google during this period) and 210 news stories was collated, which are treated as part of the same data set in the charts below.

Google searches (general search and news) May 2018

Although there was considerable variation from day to day in terms of the number of posts, the standard deviation was considerably less than for Twitter (which was not surprising, considering that there were only slightly fewer than 500 entries compared to more than 11,000 in Twitter. The average number of posts a day for this group was slightly more than 15.5 with a variance of nearly 8.

The various pages indexed by Google could also be broken down into the following categories: art tends to refer to pictorial representations but can include such things as posters and cards, anything with a visual representation of Blake’s work. Poetry, the next biggest category, can include quotations and snippets as well as extended pieces, while Books tends to reference sales/downloads of Blake-related books. The Music category was quite substantial this month because it included a number of posts relating to U2’s Songs of Experience tour. “Essay mill” refers to the rather dispiriting practice of offering essays for sale – these tend to go down very quickly, and I have been in two minds whether to include them for a number of reasons, but in the end they represent part of the exchange of information about Blake online.

Google search and news items by category

Finally, the following two charts give some indication of the sources of origin for posts about Blake. As with Twitter usage, by far and away the largest number of posts come from the United States followed by Britain.

Review: Fernand Péna, Ode to William Blake, vol. 2; Shawn Colvin, Cradle Song; Jóhann Jóhannsson, Holy Thursday

Ode to William Blake, Volume 2 is, as its name suggests, is a follow up to Fernand Péna’s first set of recordings of Blake’s poems. This was released in 2010 and you can read the original review of it here; as with the earlier CD, this one includes a lavishly-illustrated and somewhat idiosyncratic booklet that includes the various Blake poems as well as Péna’s interpretations of Blake’s life and work (many sections of which appear to have been carried over from the original CD).

As with the first collection, there are eighteen tracks although the Dylanesque and Doors-inspired influences feel as though they have been added to here. This is evident on the first song on the album – “Never pain to tell thy love” – which is a strong start and reminded me a lot of late Bowie. Blackstar, Bowie’s last album, was probably released too late to be an immediate influence, but other releases such as The Next Day may have inspired Péna, as on “The Little Girl Lost” and “The Little Girl Found” and “Earth’s Answer”.

Lest this began to imply that the album is a tribute – even to such a great artist as Bowie – what is particularly impressive about Ode to William Blake is the variety of Péna’s styles. Thus “The Land of Dreams” uses classical-style guitar to great effect to create a much more melodic style (and for me was superior to the preceding, rock-oriented track, “Mary”). Elsewhere, Péna’s work is strongly reminiscent of Dylan and Tom Waites, as in the delightful “My Spectre Around Me Night and Day” and “The Ecchoing Green”, or “Fayette”, which is offered as a duet. It’s with some of the straight rock numbers, particularly “Night” and “Long John Brown & Little Mary Bell” that I found myself less inspired, although the guitar on “The Crystal Cabinet” is exceptional and demonstrates Péna’s abilities to a much greater degree.

More unusual contributions include “A Fairy Skip’d Upon My Knee”, an almost psychedelic piece that matches the delightfully strange subject matter, while “When Kloptstock England Defied” is a bluesy number that, once again, suits the humorous content (and also was another which had echoes of Tom Waites for me). Less successful for me was the slight reggae style of “On Another’s Sorrow”, although that tone, with 10cc undercurrents, works very well on “The Fly”, which approaches the subject of death in a joyful fashion rather than despondency and despair. Finally, Péna deserves credit for his version of “The Tyger” – always a tough one because it is so well known. My own personal favourite version of this remains John Tavener’s choral rendition, but the heavily syncopated rhythm of this track – along with prog rock elements that are perhaps reminiscent of Tangerine Dream or even Simon Thaur – make this an unusual, memorable and very listenable adaptation.

While Péna has crafted an entire album devoted to Blake, the other two parts of this review deal with single tracks on other albums. The first of these, “Cradle Song”, is by Grammy-award winner, Shawn Colvin. Colvin’s own influences and career have included folk singer-songwriters such as Pete Seeger and various Broadway musicals, and both feed through into her latest album, The Starlighter, which takes its immediate source of inspiration a children’s book, Lullabies and Night Songs. Colvin’s work has been described as “soothing and sophisticated at once“, which sums up her sound for me. Certainly her melodic skills are superb, and this particular version of Blake’s poem – one of the most popular pieces to be set to music with versions going back to the nineteenth century – is gentle and tender.

The final track to be considered is “Holy Thursday (Ég heyrði allt án þess að hlusta)” by Jóhann Jóhannsson and which was released on the album Englabörn & Variations in March this year. Johansson, who had composed widely for cinema and theatre (most famously working with Denis Villeneuve, although not on Blade Runner 2049) and who died suddenly in the month before Englabörn & Variations was released, was famous for combining traditional orchestration with electronic and ambient influences, and this is very much in evidence on his last album. Bringing together a beautiful harmony of voices via the Theatre of Voices, this is in many respects a simpler piece than some of the other tracks on Englabörn but one that deserves recognition, in my opinion, as one of the finest settings of Blake to have been produced.

Fernand Péna – Ode to William Blake, Volume 2 – available from https://odetowilliamblake.bandcamp.com/releases.

Shawn Colvin – The Starlighter, SLC Recordings.

Jóhann Jóhannsson – Englabörn & Variations, Deutsche Grammaphon.

 

Blakespotting: News about William Blake, May 2018

At the start of May, U2 began their Innocence + Experience 2018 tour through North America, crossing the continent with the aim of providing a series of performances in New York before heading on to the European leg. Aside from the date, this is the same title as the tour they undertook three years ago (after the release of Songs of Innocence) and offered a very different experience to the “greatest hits” fest that was last year’s Joshua Tree Tour. Reviews of the events were generally positive, with Rolling Stone magazine calling the band’s opening night performance in Tulsa “more interesting and less predictable” than other recent events, while Barry Egan of the Independent.ie called it “one of the bravest, most powerful and even angriest performances U2 have ever done”.

Among other musical events in May, Pitchfork magazine carried a profile of Max Clarke, whose debut album Hollow Ground is released as the work of Cut Worms – a reference to Blake’s proverb of hell, “The cut worm forgives the plough”. While the songs themselves may resemble early 60s Beatles as much as Blake, Clarke’s other career as an illustrator also seems to fuel his empathies with Blake. In Iowa, the Chamber Singers presented “Watching and Waiting” at the First Presbyterian Church, which included “Tryptych” by Kevin Dibble, a cantata for strings and chorus written in 2004 that draws on the words of William Blake, as well as Milton, the Bible, and Indian and Islamic texts.

For the visual arts, Peter Parks’s exhibition at the Magpie Gallery in Taos, New Mexico, included a series of watercolours that reference Blake as well as John Singer Sargent, American abstract expressionism and aboriginal art, while “A Guided Tour of Hell” at the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco includes work by Pema Namdol Thaye, whose hypnotic paintings invoke Dante, Turner and Blake as much as Buddhist art. Hell returned as a theme with the release of the second issue of Her Infernal Descent, in which Blake continues to serve the role of Virgil to Dante as he leads the protagonist, Lynn, deeper into the circle of gluttony. Hell, or rather The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, provided the title for Flights (as in “No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings”) by Olga Tokarczuk, whose nomination for the Man Booker prize was announced in May. As much a lament for “the decimation of her country’s very own ‘green and pleasant land'” according to The Guardian, her work is increasingly being viewed as a challenge to the Law and Justice party in Poland.

The motif of flights made a strange return in May with a recreation of the famous Nike/Michael Jordan poster from the 1990s.  The Minnesota Lynx star, Maya Moore, was photographed in exactly the same pose as Jordan two decades previously, catching a great deal of attention in downtown Minneapolis and reminding viewers just how iconic the original was.

Last but by no means least, May ended with the author and president of the Blake Society, Philip Pullman, giving a talk entitled “Daemon Voices”, the Society’s annual lecture. Talking about the importance of stories and the craft of storytelling, and drawing on his recent book Daemon Voices, Pullman gave examples from his latest novel, La Belle Sauvage, interspersed with readings by the actor Olivia Vinall, who appeared in The Woman in White on the BBC as well as Young Chekhov at the National Theatre.

 

Blakespotting: News about William Blake, April 2018

Among new releases in April, the first part of the graphic novel series, Her Infernal Descent, appeared. Written by Lonnie Nadler and Zac Thompson, with art by Kyle Charles, it offers an update on Dante’s journey through the underworld as a woman is taken in search of her family with William Blake as her guide. I reviewed the first issue and the next installment is due in May. Another major event was the premiere of Daniel Kidane’s Songs of Illumination at the Leeds Lieder festival on April 22, and again you can read the review of that performance on Zoamorphosis.com.

The end of the month saw the publication of Blake’s A Descriptive Catalogue on the Blake Archive. Printed in a small run, the Catalogue was written to accompany his one-man show of 1809-10 and the one review, by Robert Hunt, branded the exhibition the work of a lunatic. You can read about the history of the Catalogue on the Blake Archive blog and view the work itself under Manuscripts and Typographic Works on the Archive.

Sadder news was the death of Alice Provensen, at the age of 99, on 23 April. For some forty years she had worked with her husband, Martin, on illustrations until his death in 1987, before continuing a solo career into her nineties. During the period that she worked with Martin they produced illustrations for a number of children’s books, including the wonderful A Visit to William Blake’s Inn by Nancy Willard. She is survived by her daughter, Karen, and you can read her obituary at The New York Times.

In other news, the Glasgow International this year included Mark Leckey’s Nobodaddy, described by The Guardian correctly, I think, as a “deeply troubled figure” and obviously based on Blake’s character of the same name. Meanwhile, a show by Alec Lewis at Tenby Art Gallery, West Wales, called The Painted Word demonstrates the influence of William Blake’s art and poetry – as well as that of Dylan Thomas and Leonard Cohen – and runs until June 10. At Union College in Schenectady, NY State, the exhibition “Blake@Union: From Print to Digital” is on display in the Lally Reading Room. Curated by Caitlin Williams, it shows the College’s collection of Blake works and will run throughout the summer.

A number of reviews of Jim Jarmusch’s 1995 film, Dead Man, started popping up – such as this one at Slant Magazine, due to the release of the film on Blu Ray. If you haven’t had chance to catch up with this classic, which is a great surreal western as well as an homage to William Blake, then now is your chance. There was also some musical news with a new album, Hollow Ground, by the group Cut Worm (named after Blake’s proverb, “The cut worm forgives the plough”), although the other event was another death, this time of Bob Dorough, who wrote “Conjunction Junction” and worked with Allen Ginsberg on that poet’s album of Blake songs set to music.

And finally, Blake provided another pop culture reference in the form of HBO’s new season for Westworld, its dystopian vision of a future world of slavery and violence. In a reddit Ask Me Anything, director Jonathan Nolan cited a line from Auguries of Innocence, “A Robin Red breast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage”. As Cindy Davis remarked in a review of the new season, “if that doesn’t say it all, I don’t know what would.”

From the Collection: The Punisher – The Tyger

First of all, a quick confession. Frank Castle is probably my favourite Marvel… character. I nearly wrote hero, which seems intentionally the wrong word, and yet also anti-hero is never quite right for me. The Punisher has been more frequently reviled as praised for being a series that glorifies violence. Yet for me, reviews such as Matt Kamen’s take on the recent Netflix series as an example of toxic masculinity are not quite correct (although to be fair to Kamen, his review is much more subtle than a one-phrase comment does justice to). Frank Castle occupies a position for me somewhere closer to Don Hieronimo in The Spanish Tragedy (which does, after all, deal with the events of the Duke of Castile and his son) and, as in all good Elizabethan and Jacobean tragedy, there will be blood. Lots of it.  Articles discussing the gruesome nature of violence in the series also seem to miss the mark: the violence is gut-wrenchingly unpleasant, and this is as it should be – if we enjoy violence, then there is, simply, something wrong with us (one of my fundamental problems with the Deadpool franchise). Frank Castle is as much punished as punisher and in the end I think he is a hero more for what he could have been, what he wants to be – a husband, a father – than what he is.

I’m also a sucker for the fact that Frank (born Frank Castiglione) had originally intended to become a priest before joining the marines. As with that other lesson in the dark morality of comics, Matt Murdock, aka Daredevil, it seems that one ex-Catholic can’t quite get enough of his heroes always being willing to fall a little further while yet somehow never quite reaching the bottom of the abyss. This post, however, deals with an exceptional edition of The Punisher, published in February 2006 as part of the Max Comics imprint aimed at adult audiences. Entitled The Tyger, it is an origin story that also contains one of the most extensive expositions on Blake that I believe exists anywhere in the comic universe, but Garth Ennis, the writer alongside John Severin, who did the art for this issue, have attracted considerably less attention that other figures such as Alan Moore or Neil Gaiman.

The issue begins with Frank on a rooftop in the 1970s, waiting to commit an assassination and pondering on how his violent actions will be explained away as a convenient narrative based on the post-traumatic stress of combat in Vietnam. Yet the real cause of his transformation took place in 1960 when he was ten years old, and its origins lie in two figures – Lauren Buvoli and Vincent Rosa (a son of a local mafia boss) – as well as, we are told very explicitly, “the tyger”. The scene cuts to Frank as a young boy witnessing a man on fire, running through a navy yard, like a terrible parody of Orc. We will later discover that the man on fire has been set on fire by the others at the navy yard for being a strike breaker and complicit in an accident which left one of the men permanently injured. This brutal example of lex talionis is apparently justified by Frank’s father, but his mother decries such mindless violence.

It is Frank’s mother, we learn, who at this point influences him more than his father, inspiring in him a love of poetry that Catiglione senior cannot understand and dismisses as queer and unmanly. Ten-year old Frank, however, is very much his own boy, and a boy in love at that: Lauren Buvoli is beautiful and kind, a song of innocence in Frank’s neighbourhood and one of several indications throughout the series of the very different life that he could have led before he was forced to embrace experience. We also briefly encounter Lauren’s brother, Sal, a marine who will occupy a very important place in the story. It is partly to get closer to Lauren, but more to encourage his own sense of imagination, that Frank visits Father David who teaches poetry to kids in the neighbourhood. Father David introduces the class to Blake’s “The Tyger” and, as Frank observes, the priest and Blake “had me from the get-go”.

The follows, after the reading of the entire poem, an original and (the first time I read it) entirely unexpected disposition on reader response theory. Having let his imagination loose to conceive the tyger in his mind’s eye, a “force made flesh” that knows neither remorse nor mercy, Frank, Lauren and Father David discuss who it was that made this creature. It seems entirely credible to me that Ennis is familiar at this point with Stanley Fish’s Is There a Text in this Class?in particular Fish’s discussion of how critics answer the question in Blake’s poem according to their own preconceptions as to the nature of good and evil. Frank believes that the tyger must be made by something other than God, while Father David – responding to Lauren’s wonderfully liberal assertion that “can’t Frank read the poem the way he likes?” with a fatal assertion: “In this instance he really can’t.”

Ennis’s use of Blake is not as subtle and allusive as Alan Moore’s in part V of Watchmen, nor indeed Grant Morrison’s playful rejoinder in Zenith (more on both of these soon), but this discussion is an exceptionally intelligent series of observations on the role of interpretive communities in reading Blake and follows with another remarkable example of the role of the reader in interpreting the text. While on his second tour in Vietnam and out searching for a pilot lost behind enemy lines, Frank encounters a tiger. Rather than shooting in fear – for by this point, Frank Castle really doesn’t do fear – he and the tiger (or is it a tyger) reflect each other’s dangerous, stoic stare. As Frank remarks: “To this day, I have no idea if it was real. Or imagination filling in the gaps.”

The remainder of the grim roots of the origins of the Punisher involve rape, suicide and a dreadful, burning revenge by Sal who is, we realise, the “tyger” invoked by Frank at the beginning. In contrast to Frank’s father, who operates a kind of vigilante law of revenge that does, in the end, know fear and pity, Sal is remorseless and without mercy. He is also, as Frank discovers very quickly in Vietnam, walking towards his own death wish. The scene in which Sal takes his revenge on Vincent Rosa, burning him alive, is another demonstration of how Blake’s poem is used throughout the issue, being an act of fearful symmetry. By the end of the issue Frank reveals that he has made his choice, fixed his reading of “The Tyger” to become one who shows “the world a face not made by God”.

Ennis and Severin’s reading of Blake via the eyes of ten-year old Frank Castle is, quite simply, remarkable. I do not actually agree with Frank’s interpretation, and that is ultimately (for me) his loss, of innocence for experience. Yet Frank himself, throughout the various issues of The Punisher, knows this, and that is why – for me – he is such an interesting character. When The Punisher: The Tyger was published, Blake’s poem had already entered popular culture as one of the images – alongside the Great Red Dragon – in the Hannibal Lecter series. Yet unlike Francis Dolarhyde, with whom we are invited to at least empathise, if not sympathise, Frank stands apart from us: ultimately, his actions require a different kind of judgement. The invocation of the tyger is particularly interesting because this is not, in Ennis’s words and Severin’s art, a creature of Dionysian joy but, rather, a figure of stoicism – and, as in the works of that other famous stoic, Seneca, violence and pain are a punishment to be endured in a brutal, uncaring universe.