Self-quote:
But does “blue” have any existence apart from its perception by humans?  Can it in fact really be a substantive?  Perhaps a philosopher on the list knows the answer.

 

My thanks to SKB for his observations following this question.  Mary Bellino’s posts from 2005 were of the greatest interest, and I look forward to reading J.L.Benson, and Pastoureau (at Mary Krimmel’s suggestion).

 

However I was thinking more along the lines of whether there might be some philosophical distinction between the independent existence of “blue” and the Juniper tree in the quad, when there’s no-one around to see it. There seems to me a difference between the human perception of colours and the perception of concrete objects. If you believe in God, like Knox, presumably not, since both would continue to be observed indiscriminately. By extension, that could mean that Zembla also has reality, since it is so vividly perceived by Kinbote, and therefore also by God. Most fiction is, and most people in fiction are, I suppose, much more real than the nameless multitudes who have led “real” lives. Invited by, say, Hendrik van Loon, to dinner with either Shade or Kinbote, I would definitely select Kinbote, anticipating an exceedingly entertaining evening. Marooned on Juan Fernández for a few years, Shade, though boring and dull (imho), would have to be preferred as a Friday.

 

The discussion of the differences between blue and azure, though partly (only partly) my fault, is reaching absurd heights. However, George’s thoughtful and rational remarks seek sensible answers. He wrote:

 

1) There is a tension in “azure” part of the quoted rhyme; we are forced to speed up at it to fit in the rhyme, - kind of smashing really fast and hard into something. I believe that even cliché words loose their life support when such tension is achieved.

 

The thought that “azure” in this context suggests “smash” is appealing. The waxwing is crushed against the glass. Beyond that I don’t sense much tension in the word. The “ash” sound seems soft to me. Although I don’t think I really pronounce “azure” as “ashure”.

 

2) Does branding certain word cliché prohibits their use regardless of context, semantic and other spices? I think not. This cliché may be a trap.

 

Fully agree that so-called clichés may be perfectly appropriate, depending on context. All words can, in a sense, be thought of as clichés, which I suppose is why writers are so often tempted to invent new ones. Jerry’s remark about “azure”: it's part of self-consciously elevated, exotic, pre-20th-century poetic diction. Far from being one of Madox Ford's "fresh, usual words", it smells musty to me. This may be what Charles meant by "poetastic", seems to me exactly to the point. Frost’s early “zephyr” struck me as being of the same ilk, and I felt that he deliberately avoided this sort of poetic diction in his later poems.

 

3) Could lack of “azure” in RF’s poetry be just a sign of personal preference? Or that he did not have a way to generate the above tension?

 

Yes, I think it is a matter of Frost’s personal search for the ideal in poetry. On the other hand I think he was very capable of generating intense emotional tension.

 

4) Should we place so such value in numeric order in OED and to the fact that it does not list azure as noun denoting sky as other dictionaries do? Poetry is arguably a thing of perfect rhyme but it is not a thing of perfect order.

 

I was certainly surprised to find the OED listing “lapis lazuli” as the first meaning of “azure”. Jerry Katsell’s discovery in Webster’s New World Dictionary of the American Language of the 1950s:  “of or like the color of a clear sky; sky blue—n. 1. sky blue or any similar blue color;  2. [Poet.] the blue sky”  certainly supports the concept, in America, of “azure” as, secondarily, a poetic synonym for “sky”, but doesn’t increase my respect for Webster’s attention to the history of word usage. The phrase “Côte d’Azur”, I suppose because of its juxtaposition of colour with coastal shore,  has always evoked for me the deep blue of the Mediterranean sea, but I may be alone in this. Ask a random selection of New Yorkers what “azure” means and I’d imagine 90% would say “blue”. Perhaps I’m wildly wrong.

 

5) Shade is the poet but VN is the writer of the novel containing the poem. Isn’t that sufficient ground to place more weight on use of “azure” in the 4th meaning? If we use Shade’s poem to criticize VN as a poet let’s give credit to Russian poetic heritage to which VN alludes.

 

All I’ve really been interested in, following Brian Boyd’s heated attack on James Marcus, is to ruminate on why Marcus first remarked that the “diction of Pale Fire dips into poetic flabbiness with the very second line ("false azure" indeed)”, and to speculate on what could have been in his mind when singling out that phrase. The reaction to what I’d thought was an inoffensively sober interpretation of Marcus’s flippancy has escalated alarmingly.

 

The entire discussion of Pale Fire the novel still seems to me to hinge on the reader’s judgement of the aesthetic quality of Shade’s verse composition,  and I’ll have yet another attempt at illustrating what I believe to be the difference between verse and poetry.

 

Before me are two books. One is titled “Collected Verse of Rudyard Kipling”; the other is titled  “The Collected Poems of Robert Frost”. It is quite inconceivable to me, where I’m coming from, that any tolerably educated publisher would ever contemplate switching these titles to read “Collected Verse of Robert Frost” and “The Collected Poems of Rudyard Kipling”.  Although I make due allowance for other’s doubts, I will continue to trust myself --- on the whole.

 

Charles

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