Weird, then, that MacNeice’s work has often been seen as a footnote to that of his illustrious pal W.H. Auden, when he’s so clearly a hugely original poet in his own right. And when, among more recent generations, the likes of Seamus Heaney, Michael Longley, Derek Mahon, Don Paterson and Conor O’Callaghan have all cited him as a major influence in their own writing. It’s not like ‘Snow’ was a one hit wonder, either. Despite some of the less exciting – and often lengthy – stuff he wrote in the early 50s, MacNeice only got better, perfecting his moving, atmospheric and powerful lyric poems until his final and best collection, The Burning Perch, appeared in 1963, shortly after his death.
How can I convince you of how good The Burning Perch is, without just saying its worth forking out the thirty quid for MacNeice’s hefty Collected Poems, just for this short book’s appearance in it? Well, if you want to know where some of today’s best poets get their linguistic tricks from, you needn’t look much further.
Many of the poems in The Burning Perch attempt to use the past – both in a personal and shared sense – to make sense of the present; something we often do (writers or not) in our own lives. But in the final poem of the book, ‘Coda’, MacNeice seems uncertain:
So much for the past; in the presentEither way, the desire in so many of MacNeice’s poems is to more fully understand himself, others, and the world around him: something that all of us can relate to. What’s more, in reading his best poems, you come away with a wider – but never prescriptive – perspective on all sorts of things, not least your own life. He is, as one poet once described him, ‘the laureate of in-between-ness’: his writing as relevant now as ever to our fast moving, changing, and sometimes disorienting times.
There are moments caught between heart-beats
When maybe we know each other better.
this article was first published by The Poetry Society in 2010, in YM: New Work in Poetry.