An Oracular Reader Exclusive. Editor's Note: According to the ground rules established for this interview, certain strictures of confidentiality apply as to disclosure of the time and place of the interview. Also per this agreement the following were considered off-limits for our questions: his golf handicap, thesaurus and rhyming dictionary use, anything to do with Bartlett's Quotations, the final ROI on his poetry, and his wives' undergarments. ~........~
OR: You don't look anything like your pictures. Have you lost weight or something?
TS: Actually, I have. Quite a bit.
OR: So how've you been?
TS: Perfect, thank you.
OR: Would you like to expand on that?
TS: No. If you don't understand the word, look it up, for heavensake.
OR: Okee-dokee, the number one question on our list is, why all the footnotes? They really don't help that much. Your footnotes need footnotes! Wouldn't it have been easier to hire a translator?
TS: Your reading seems to have stopped with the Norton Anthologies.
OR: On to the next item of burning interest to our readers. Were you always a good speller or did you have to work at it?
TS: I was always good with spelling. It's a natural gift. Probably genetic as well, given Mother's punctilious, obssesive resort to her vast library of dictionaries every time I opened my mouth.
OR: This isn't on the list, but I just have to ask. What was it like to be T.S. Eliot? Your stature in modern poetry is unparalleled, your influence on the world of letters awesome and intimidating to other poets. Scholars have made lucrative careers trying to figure out what you meant in your poems. So how did all of that feel?
T.S. Incomparable. And I 100% deserved it, if that's what you're getting at. Look at me: are you suggesting that I wasn't the genuine article? Like maybe I faked it or plagarized?
OR: Well, you did lift a lot of material from earlier works not your own.
TS: I'm clean. I always gave full credit. Check the damn footnotes if you don't believe me.
OR: Unfortunately I don't read Sanskrit or ancient Greek.
TS: So when you learn, get back to me. It's not hard.
OR: You got that right, which brings me to another question. Were you trying to be hard, and if so, had you done any focus groups to gauge the benefits of an arcane, unintelligible style?
TS: Shanti, shanti, shanti.
OR: Amen, brother! And so very true. Next question: where did you get your ideas for poems? Some of them require two shots of tequila just to think about.
TS: "Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees/Letting his arms hang down to laugh . . . ." Understand me? Have I made myself perfectly clear?
OR: Absolutely. And a good one! You hit the nail on the head. So who was your favorite poet among your contemporaries, other than yourself of course?
TS: Wallace Stevens. "Complacencies of the peignoir . . . ."
OR: But he was an atheist. And you weren't. Or aren't.
TS: He's not anymore. He's my golf partner.
OR: If I recollect correctly, he won more prizes and awards than you.
TS: Baloney. He never won the Nobel.
OR: Next question. Of all your towering, immortal, inscrutable works, which gave you the most lasting satisfaction?
TS: Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats.
OR: And why?
TS: Because I love cats and nursery rhymes.
OR: Fascinating.
T.S. Yes, it is. You see, fundamentally, I am feline. Meow! Kitty can scratch! Incidentally, have you ever done a close reading of "Puss n' Boots?" You really must. The rewards are immense. The treasures it yields to the discerning reader are indescribable. Astounding that critics have ignored it for so long.
OR: Not yet, but it's on my to-do list. A gaping hole in my education. I tried to sign up for a class on it once, but it was already closed. So, any advice for young poets just starting out today?
TS: Did I mention I play bongos in a group here?
OR: No, really?
TS: Yes, and I'm rather good, actually. And, actually, I have them right here with me, as luck would have it. How very, very fortunate! The group is working on a new set and . . . .well, just tell me what you think . . . .
