Muldoonia, Muldoonia! So good etc....
Well now. Smashing tidings from that Apple of Bigness on the Hudson with the news that Paul Muldoon is henceforth to man the poetry pumps at that vessel of literary bigness itself, The New Yorker! It's a magazine apparently? (I jest, of course).
We're all giggling like schoolchildren here at the prospect of the telecaster-wielding troubadour getting his mitts on one of the choicest (or at least most visible) positions in literativille.
Not only a poet exemplar, but a scholar of the highest rigour and abilities, his editorial credentials are soundly proven and this, coupled with his inherent sense of creative play, should make for an interesting sojourn in Times Square. (Sorry about the gushing tone, but he's a fan of poetry and I'm a fan of Muldoon). Times Square - now there's an inspirational address.
There's a short article and some discussion on the appointment over on the Guardian arts blog.
Muldoon, recently seen wielding his axe around the country (mightier than the sword apparently) will replace longserving Poetry Editor Alice Quinn, herself a recent-ish visitor when she gave the keynote address at PNO7 in Dun Laoghaire last March.
MacNeice would be proud.
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