Resultado da Busca
The Less Deceived, first published in 1955, was Philip Larkin's first mature collection of poetry, having been preceded by the derivative North Ship (1945) from The Fortune Press and a privately printed collection, a small pamphlet titled XX Poems, which Larkin mailed to literary critics and authors.
- Philip Larkin
- 1966
The bulk of his next published collection of poems, The Less Deceived (1955), was written there, though eight of the twenty-nine poems included were from the late 1940s. This period also saw Larkin make his final attempts at writing prose fiction, and he gave extensive help to Kingsley Amis with Lucky Jim , which was Amis's first ...
Philip Larkin. 4.04. 554 ratings63 reviews. Philip Larkin's second collection, The Less Deceived was published by The Marvell Press in 1955, and now appears for the first time in Faber covers. The eye can hardly pick them out. From the cold shade they shelter in, Till wind distresses tail and mane; Then one crops grass, and moves about.
- (551)
- Paperback
- Philip Larkin
By XX Poems, the privately printed volume in 1951, the mature Larkin has begun to appear; with The Less Deceived (which contained more than half of the XX Poems) he has clearly arrived. For many of Larkin's admirers, this remains his finest volume. Type. Chapter. Information.
discussed in biography. In Philip Larkin. He became well known with The Less Deceived (1955), a volume of verse the title of which suggests Larkin’s reaction and that of other British writers who then came into notice (e.g., Kingsley Amis and John Wain) against the political enthusiasms of the 1930s and what they saw as the… Read More.
21 de mar. de 2024 · “The Less Deceived” Philip Larkin (born August 9, 1922, Coventry, Warwickshire, England—died December 2, 1985, Kingston upon Hull) was the most representative and highly regarded of the poets who gave expression to a clipped, antiromantic sensibility prevalent in English verse in the 1950s.
any claims to policy or belief: this (The Less Deceived) would however give a certain amount of sad-eyed (and clear-eyed) real ism, and if they [i.e. readers] did pick up the context they might grasp my fundamentally passive attitude to poetry (and life too, I suppose) which believes that the agent is always more deceived
