Exultations

In Short

This collection serves as a vivid act of literary revival, blending the sensibilities of medieval troubadours and classical mystics with an urgent, modern intensity. It is a sequence of intense, often dramatic monologues and lyrical meditations that reject the tepid conventions of contemporary verse. By channeling figures from history and legend—from Bertrans de Born to the companions of Christ—the poems explore the boundaries between the individual soul and the universal experience. It has endured as a foundational text of 20th-century modernism, celebrated for its raw, unvarnished voice.

The Story

The collection begins with a declaration of intent: the poet invites a companion to abandon the familiar paths of Dante and tradition to embark on a more perilous, authentic voyage of the spirit. This opening sets a tone of restless defiance against the status quo, initiating a journey that travels through the shadowed canals of Venice, the brutal battlefields of medieval Provence, and the ethereal landscapes of the soul. The movement is not linear in a narrative sense but thematic, shifting from the divine silence of "Night Litany" to the aggressive, bloody vitality of "Sestina: Altaforte."

The arc of the book is one of constant oscillation between the desire for beauty and the recognition of decay. In the middle sections, we find the poet inhabiting the skins of various historical and mythological figures. We meet the "fool par excellence" Piere Vidal, who, in his madness for love, becomes a wolf in the mountains, capturing the violent, transcendent nature of passion. Similarly, the "Ballad of the Goodly Fere" provides a radical reimagining of the crucifixion, stripping away "capon priest" piety to present a rugged, brawny Christ—a "mate of the wind and sea" whose death is an act of supreme, fearless strength.

As the collection progresses, the tone shifts toward the elegiac and the introspective. The poet contemplates the fragility of beauty, whether in the "fragile and lovely flower" of Flaminius or the "white poppy" of the final, haunting "Planh." There is a recurring struggle with the "ugly print marks" of books and the limitations of language, as the speaker yearns to move beyond mere words into a direct, unmediated experience of reality. The journey concludes not with a resolution of these tensions, but with an acceptance of their permanence. The poet admits to being an "eternal spirit" making things that are "ephemera," yet finds the strength to endure. The final poems, such as the "Alba Innominata," reflect on the fleeting nature of dawn—both the physical sunrise and the metaphorical awakening—leaving the reader with a sense of the beauty that resides in the brief, painful overlap of love, loss, and the passage of time.

How It Unfolds

The call to departure The poet invites a peer to leave behind the safety of established literary masters and sail toward a more dangerous, singular horizon. This beat establishes the need for a new kind of "merchandise"—a fresh, unbought, and authentic expression.

The descent into history The book inhabits the voices of warriors, fools, and saints, moving from the blood-soaked boasts of a troubadour to the weary, defiant recollections of a revolutionary martyr. Here, the poet tests his own identity by assuming the masks of those who lived with greater intensity.

The meditation on beauty The focus turns toward the fragile, the ephemeral, and the divine, expressed through images of flowers, moonlight, and the fleeting shadows of a beloved. The language becomes more fluid and contemplative as the speaker seeks to capture the "unappeasable loveliness" of the world.

The final reckoning The collection closes by confronting the limits of the poet’s own craft, acknowledging that the "hunting" for truth is a long, hungry process. The final notes are of quiet resignation and enduring spirit, grounding the artistic struggle in the larger cycle of death and renewal.

The People

The book is populated by a cast of archetypes who serve as vessels for the poet's own preoccupations. Piere Vidal represents the archetype of the "fool," whose profound madness for love renders him both a social outcast and a figure of singular, tragic glory. He wants to possess the intensity of his passion, even at the cost of his sanity, and he ends as a man "shrivelled as an old oak’s trunk," mocking the stunted souls of his present age. The Goodly Fere (Christ) stands as the ultimate master of men, rejecting the "mouse of the scrolls" mentality for a life of action on the open sea. He is the figure who confronts death without a cry, defining his legacy through his physical presence rather than theological doctrine. Finally, the Poet himself—the observer and the mask-wearer—is the central figure who struggles with the burden of his own consciousness. He is a man who walks through history, "Dante for a space" or a "thief," constantly negotiating the tension between his desire for the eternal and the fact that he, and his work, must ultimately pass away.

In Its Own Voice

"I am an eternal spirit and the things I make are but ephemera, yet I endure:"

The poet reflects on the paradox of the artist, whose creations are fleeting, yet whose spirit persists through the act of making.

"No mouse of the scrolls was the Goodly Fere But aye loved the open sea."

In describing his vision of Christ, the poet highlights a preference for raw experience and physical vitality over academic or ecclesiastical tradition.

"I have seen the Shadow of this thy Venice Floating upon the waters,"

This line captures the poet’s ability to find a haunting, transcendent beauty in the physical landscape of the city, turning a place into a state of mind.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is an argument for the necessity of "exultation"—a state of heightened, passionate awareness that rejects the lukewarm mediocrity of conventional life. It questions the adequacy of language to capture reality, positing that the poet’s role is to act as a conduit for the "Masters of the Soul" who lived before him. The book explores the tension between the desire for permanence and the reality of decay. It asks whether one can truly capture the intensity of human experience—war, love, sacrifice—without losing oneself in the process. Ultimately, it is a testament to the idea that despite the crumbling of worlds and the passage of time, the spirit can, and must, find a way to persist.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate poetry that demands attention will find this collection rewarding. It does not offer the comfort of traditional meter or easy, digestible sentiment. Instead, it provides a rugged, often jarring experience that reflects the complexity of its own era. It will appeal to those who value the "brusque intensity" mentioned by early critics, and who are interested in the evolution of modern literature.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the poet’s heavy reliance on historical and Provençal references, which can feel dense or opaque at first. The work is unapologetically intellectual yet deeply emotional, oscillating between high-minded mysticism and the coarse, violent language of a soldier. It is not a book for a casual browse; it requires a willingness to engage with the poet’s specific, often idiosyncratic world. What stays with you is the sheer, unyielding force of the voice—a conviction that poetry is not a decorative craft but a vital, dangerous necessity. For anyone interested in the root of the modern voice, this book remains a sharp, vital, and occasionally difficult companion that challenges the reader to look at the world with a similar, uncompromising intensity.