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Tony Harrison
Remembered

Sir Richard Eyre reflects on his long friendship with the late poet, translator and playwright

Photo: Colin McPherson/Alamy

Tony used to say “the beat is in the blood”, in the iambic thumping of the heart, the rhythm of breathing, of walking – the pulse of life. It is hard to imagine that his beat has been stilled.

He wrote almost invariably in the iambic metre and all his writing is rhythmic, rhymed, memorable, alliterative, dramatic, and impenitently English.

Its voice is musical, sensual, working-class, and Yorkshire – a voice with a sense of place and class, a heartland from which the speaker has been separated.

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A lecture by Paul Gilroy led me to read At the Mind’s Limits by Jean Amery. It includes an account of how he was captured and tortured by the Gestapo before being sent to a concentration camp. Amery insists that “torture was the essence of National Socialism”. Many states have tortured people, he writes, but a Nazi had “to torture, destroy, in order to be great” and “achieve his full identity”.
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In our theatre of social media, the modern chorus has become a cacophony of competing rights and opposing certainties where the contemporary curse is that of othering, writes Jake Arnott
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