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Mar 10, 2026 at 21:51
The Anxiety of Influence is a somewhat insane book—insane like certain parts of the Bible, or the visionary writings of Blake, or Thus Spake Zarathustra. There’s no consolation to be had anywhere in its pages. What is present is an abundance of apocalyptic insight and poetic utterance. Though he’d begun his career as a reviver of the great Romantic poets in the 1950s and Sixties, by the time he wrote Anxiety Bloom had uncovered his deeper obsessions, and now he gave them a troubling, prophetic voice. Approaching the book almost requires a strong misreading itself. Bloom’s picture of poetry is exhausting. He’s always overhearing poets speaking to other poets, detecting subterranean allusions and echoes, uncovering endless rhetorical strategies of evasion and revision. Bloom had presumably read and remembered a substantial majority of the great literature of the West—the way forgotten Victorians like George Saintsbury used to—and you can hear the reverberations of it all, clanging and combining in his mind, spilling out onto the page.