Sad news. Jeremy Hooker died in late December. My condolences to his family.
There will be no more fascinating emails, no more lessons in how to read, or who to read, no more books to look forward to. No gentle chiding for unexamined opinions. (-:
Only the poems, the journals and the essays. An endlessly interesting, provocative, rewarding body of work. The record of an intelligence moving through time, unsettled, seeking a sense of home, thinking through and in language. Always slightly aslant to whatever the mainstream was or is. Out on his own, walking his landscape or studying it from the window, trying to solve the riddle of how to write from experience without reducing the world to a falsified mirror of the self.
Now he moves into language, where he will be at home.
He deserves something better than this, but it will have to do for now.
Safe travelling.
