Somehow my study of Theodore Roethke never got published – or even microfilmed – and was never used in subsequent research. I think it was a pity because there is so much more to be done in the field.
The study began one day when in a graduate seminar when William Rueckert stopped the class on Roethke to complain that I hadn’t spoken for an entire hour. “I don’t have a language for it.” I answered. “Conceive of one,” he said. And I wrote the thesis, on a manual Smith-Corona that sat on an orange crate because I had moved to Israel and had no furniture yet.
Spelled “separately” wrong 78 times. Had to retype all the pages.
But when I reread it now I think how wonderful it was, and how I would love to have that kind of emotional depth and control all the time.