On authors, critics and readers

by T. Wignesan

Some leave behind a hard-won name
Others only fame
A few the sweat and tears of their passage
Snatched from the rigours of their age

Yet none the folly of the game

Fiction is licensed perjury
The coward’s excuse for character
Courage revelation originality veracity
All conspire to make for a writer

All mirrors distort
Reviewers like haïr-dressers retort
And mistake the fall of water for the harp
A mere critic can only carp

If what you see is repugnant
close your ever envious eyes
and you’ll even see in darkness
and the reason for your blindness

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About T. Wignesan

If I might be allowed to say so, I think my "first" love was poetry. Unfortunately for me, the British curricula at school did not put me in touch with the Metaphysical Poets, nor with the post-Georgian school. Almost all the school texts after World War II contained invariably Victorian narrative poems and some popular examples of Romantic poetry. I chanced upon a selection of T. S. Eliot's and Fitzgerald's Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, and a little later on Pope's An Essay on Man and Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. That did the trick. Yet, I regret not having taken to prose in earnest earlier than the publication of my first collection: Tracks of a Tramp (1961). There's nothing like trying your hand at all kinds of prose exercises to come to grips with poetry. Or rather to see how poetry makes for the essence of speech/Speech and makes you realise how it can communicate what prose cannot easily convey. I have managed to put together several collections of poems, but never actually sought to find homes for them in magazines, periodicals or anthologies. Apart from the one published book, some of my sporadic efforts may be sampled at http://www.stateless.freehosting.net/menupage.htm