open, fluid atmosphere; lots of fun; drinking; and talk of politics and poetry.”
Several years later, Scott and his wife Marian, a painter, would venture into downtown Montreal to hear Cohen read and sing in the variousclubs and coffeehouses. Cohen, in turn, often received invitations to North Hatley, where the Scotts had their summer cottage. He wrote in a lean-to cabin belonging to Scott’s brother Elton, which the Scotts made available to Cohen. He began to write
The Spice-Box of Earth
there in 1957 and a year later he returned to work on early versions of
The Favorite Game
. To show his gratitude, he wrote “Summer Haiku for Frank and Marian Scott,” which Mort Rosengarten carved on a rock. The Scotts put it to use as a doorstop; the poem also appears in
The Spice-Box
. Scott later wrote a recommendation for Cohen for a Canada Council grant.
Of all Cohen’s mentors at McGill, however, Irving Layton was unquestionably the most influential. Layton forced a new vitality into moribund poetic forms and linked the prophetic with the sexual. In Layton’s work, Cohen discovered a Judaic voice of opposition, energy, and passion. Who, Layton asked with a flourish, will read the “castratos,” the critics? “What race will read what they have said / Who have my poems to read instead?” Northrop Frye, among others, tried to diminish Layton’s sexuality:“One can get as tired of buttocks in Mr. Layton as of buttercups in the
Canadian Poetry Magazine
,” he remarked in the
University of Toronto Quarterly
in April 1952, when reviewing
The Black Huntsmen
.
In addition to a great and energetic teacher, Cohen found in Layton Judaic prophecy and Hebrew thunder. Layton brought the full force of Jewish identity to bear on his work. He also brought politics to poetry and Cohen absorbed Layton’s stance in later works of his own, notably
Flowers for Hitler
and
Parasites of Heaven
. Cohen met Layton briefly in 1949 and again in 1954 when he invited Layton, who had just published
The Long Pea-Shooter
, to read at Cohen’s fraternity at McGill. An aggressive figure with two books to his credit, Layton was then juggling a career as a part-time lecturer in literature at Sir George Williams University and as a teaching assistant in political science at McGill.
Layton’s ego was relentlessly public. He challenged the entire country to rise to his forthright statements and sexuality. From Layton, Cohen learned to value the excesses of the Dionysian style, to accept the power of prophetic visions, and to extend the poetic to include the Judaic. Layton defiled the sanitary classrooms of poetry in the name of poetry: “with a happy / screech he bounded from monument to monument,” wrote Cohen in his poem “For My Old Layton.” If Dudekknighted him, Layton took him out on the town. The influence was immense, but over the years, reciprocal: “I taught him how to dress; he taught me how to live forever,” Cohen has remarked.
Layton frequently brought Cohen along on reading or promotional tours. On one of their frequent car trips to Toronto, they became so engrossed in talking about poetry that they didn’t notice they were running out of gas. Fortunately, they were not far from a farmhouse, where they found help. Several years later they were again driving to Toronto and again ran out of gas. Uncannily, it was in front of the same farmhouse. They sheepishly told their story to the woman in the farmhouse who remembered them from years past. She summed up the entire episode with one word: “Poets!” Cohen and Layton read together at the old Greenwich Gallery on Bay Street, where Don Owen, the filmmaker, remembered that Cohen “always seemed to leave the gallery with the most intesting woman there, the one I’d spent all evening trying to get up enough nerve to say hello to.” Cohen was in his pudgy phase at this time, Owen noted, but the extra weight did not deter him from his pursuit of women.
Layton commanded the attention
Several years later, Scott and his wife Marian, a painter, would venture into downtown Montreal to hear Cohen read and sing in the variousclubs and coffeehouses. Cohen, in turn, often received invitations to North Hatley, where the Scotts had their summer cottage. He wrote in a lean-to cabin belonging to Scott’s brother Elton, which the Scotts made available to Cohen. He began to write
The Spice-Box of Earth
there in 1957 and a year later he returned to work on early versions of
The Favorite Game
. To show his gratitude, he wrote “Summer Haiku for Frank and Marian Scott,” which Mort Rosengarten carved on a rock. The Scotts put it to use as a doorstop; the poem also appears in
The Spice-Box
. Scott later wrote a recommendation for Cohen for a Canada Council grant.
Of all Cohen’s mentors at McGill, however, Irving Layton was unquestionably the most influential. Layton forced a new vitality into moribund poetic forms and linked the prophetic with the sexual. In Layton’s work, Cohen discovered a Judaic voice of opposition, energy, and passion. Who, Layton asked with a flourish, will read the “castratos,” the critics? “What race will read what they have said / Who have my poems to read instead?” Northrop Frye, among others, tried to diminish Layton’s sexuality:“One can get as tired of buttocks in Mr. Layton as of buttercups in the
Canadian Poetry Magazine
,” he remarked in the
University of Toronto Quarterly
in April 1952, when reviewing
The Black Huntsmen
.
In addition to a great and energetic teacher, Cohen found in Layton Judaic prophecy and Hebrew thunder. Layton brought the full force of Jewish identity to bear on his work. He also brought politics to poetry and Cohen absorbed Layton’s stance in later works of his own, notably
Flowers for Hitler
and
Parasites of Heaven
. Cohen met Layton briefly in 1949 and again in 1954 when he invited Layton, who had just published
The Long Pea-Shooter
, to read at Cohen’s fraternity at McGill. An aggressive figure with two books to his credit, Layton was then juggling a career as a part-time lecturer in literature at Sir George Williams University and as a teaching assistant in political science at McGill.
Layton’s ego was relentlessly public. He challenged the entire country to rise to his forthright statements and sexuality. From Layton, Cohen learned to value the excesses of the Dionysian style, to accept the power of prophetic visions, and to extend the poetic to include the Judaic. Layton defiled the sanitary classrooms of poetry in the name of poetry: “with a happy / screech he bounded from monument to monument,” wrote Cohen in his poem “For My Old Layton.” If Dudekknighted him, Layton took him out on the town. The influence was immense, but over the years, reciprocal: “I taught him how to dress; he taught me how to live forever,” Cohen has remarked.
Layton frequently brought Cohen along on reading or promotional tours. On one of their frequent car trips to Toronto, they became so engrossed in talking about poetry that they didn’t notice they were running out of gas. Fortunately, they were not far from a farmhouse, where they found help. Several years later they were again driving to Toronto and again ran out of gas. Uncannily, it was in front of the same farmhouse. They sheepishly told their story to the woman in the farmhouse who remembered them from years past. She summed up the entire episode with one word: “Poets!” Cohen and Layton read together at the old Greenwich Gallery on Bay Street, where Don Owen, the filmmaker, remembered that Cohen “always seemed to leave the gallery with the most intesting woman there, the one I’d spent all evening trying to get up enough nerve to say hello to.” Cohen was in his pudgy phase at this time, Owen noted, but the extra weight did not deter him from his pursuit of women.
Layton commanded the attention
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