Thomas Hardy
Happy birthday.
Because the grand old man of English letters was born on this day, way back in 1840.
I've been a fan of Hardy's for years, ever since discovering his poetry through the wonderful settings by Gerald Finzi.
It's odd stuff, not to everyone's taste, but nothing if not accessible. Some, it has to be said, is faintly risible. He wrote too much. But then, he wasn't the first. And probably won't be the last.
But I keep reading for those moments of utter magic, those memorable phrases, those wonderful (in both the novels and the poems) characters.
Here's one of my favourite extracts, from 'Under the Greenwood Tree'.
Because the grand old man of English letters was born on this day, way back in 1840.
I've been a fan of Hardy's for years, ever since discovering his poetry through the wonderful settings by Gerald Finzi.
It's odd stuff, not to everyone's taste, but nothing if not accessible. Some, it has to be said, is faintly risible. He wrote too much. But then, he wasn't the first. And probably won't be the last.
But I keep reading for those moments of utter magic, those memorable phrases, those wonderful (in both the novels and the poems) characters.
Here's one of my favourite extracts, from 'Under the Greenwood Tree'.
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