Two weeks ago, a terminally ill Clive James published a poem in The New Yorker called "Japanese Maple." The devastating valedictory, which confronts his impending death, quickly went viral. Here are a sampling of the responses.
It is of a piece with the other productions of Clive James, intelligent, witty, skilful, highly crafted and, under the lightness, serious: deadly serious in fact.
What gives “Japanese Maple” so much of its throat-catching grace are its gentleness, resignation, and images that somehow achieve the emotional resonance of hard-earned wisdom.
Clive James http://t.co/2hk1Y7yK6v Would have been my entry in Poems that Make Grown Men Cry if it had been written when I had to choose.
— Richard Dawkins (@RichardDawkins) September 16, 2014