The Lion Rampant

The Winthrop-Comstock Lion Rampant was named by The Nation last spring as one of the ten best college magazines in the country, but the current issue of this little magazine does not quite live up to the accolade. It does not, in fact, even live up to its own pretensions. The Lion Rampant contains a depressingly great quantity of writing by people who cannot write and, worse yet, bad writing by usually good writers.

The most notable member of this latter category is Robert Dawson '64. Three of Dawson's poems appear in the magazine; they must have been retrieved from his waste basket by some copy hungry Lion Rampant editor. The poet seems to lack any rudimentary "feel" for the music of poetry, and much of his imagery is contrived and almost meaningless. For example:

We yoked the three repeating ghosts

To blast our canaan boy to goose.

Tiny Bernie, wisely cricket,

Thumped us with a crutch of horn.

Now, I don't know how Dawson wants his readers to react to this stanza of "Bernie's Christmas," but I responded with an unequivocal "Huh?"

"The Poet at Second Base" is not so esoteric, but it is difficult to decide whether to take Dawson's far-fetched metaphor seriously.

Gruesome and Annoying

The longest story in the magazine, David Littlejohn's Conversation With a Corpse," is just as disappointing. Is gruesome--both the story and the writing. The narrative centers around a man who takes care of corpses in a hospital and talks so them. It gets pretty cloying after a while. Littlejohn introduces a lot of gory detail, but the detail does not contribute significantly to the development of the story.

The author's style is rather annoying:

Her feet were twisted into one another, and the toenails looked like they hadn't been out for months, like a hawk's She was the thinnest person I had ever seen: she looked like these pictures from the concentration camps, except that her body was all by itself, and it was green. The skin just flopped ever her bones like the stuff you pick off the top of cocoa with your spoon.

Littlejohn rambles on in this vein for ten tedious pages. The reader, however, can conquer the tedium by letting his mind wander and try to guess whose style Littlejohn is trying to imitate.

Other contributions to the Lion Rampant outdo the mediocrity of Dawson and Littlejohn. Cecile Williamson's "Atlanta" is the most feeble imitation of literature in the magazine. Skirmante Makaitis translated two folk tales from the Lithuanian (apparently into English). One of them, "Stolen Bread," begins:

There was a serf who led a very unfortunate life. His landlord, pretending to goodness, gave him a lot overgrown with wood. "Work it," he said, "and it shall be yours."

Who could conceivably want to read further? I didn't.

Poems by William M. Daly and Susan Rich read considerably better, but are not without their flaws. Daly's "To One Who Has Been Long In Wandering" is marred a bit by its overly complex grammatical structure; Miss Rich's "Eight O'Clock Crusaders" is lovely, but the meaning of the last three lines completely escapes me.

Fortunately, the writing of Carter Wilson '63 and Max Byrd '64, rescues the Lion Rampant from total mediocrity.

Two poems by Byrd appear in the magazine. In the first, which is untitled, he says, "Man attempts too many explanations." The line suggests the proper way to approach the poem: it should be felt. The basis of the poem is experience, not contrived metaphor; Byrd writes simply but powerfully:

We may find roses soon or music,

And then what shall we do,

But drape our language like a ghost

Across that sudden and surprising darkness

And kiss again and walk beside the river?

Perception and Artistic Talent

By far the best piece of writing which appears in the Lion Rampant is Carter Wilson's "Mrs. Sessions Attends Church." The story is a chapter from a novel on which Wilson is working, but it can stand by itself. Wilson's use of language is simply marvelous. He can compress a whole range of ideas into a single line. He has an acute eye for small details, but--unlike Mr. Littlejohn--also possesses artistic ability to make the detail an integral part of his characterization and plot development. He portrays his main character and the movement of her thoughts with remarkable perception and technical skill. This passage illustrates Wilson's talents especially well:

Mrs. Sessions feels there is some special part of the Communion Service she is coming to hear--she cannot say exactly what, but she fears it comes early and is afraid she'll miss it. Some precious words, maybe only a half dozen that will fill in a black chink, or a gaping maw more and more she is sure exists in her otherwise peaceful and contented soul. Only recently has the need for the refill become obvious, although the cavity may have been there longer.

The Lion Rampant contains a lot of sludge, but the writing of Wilson and Byrd may make it worth a twenty-five cent investment.