Harry Guest, Common Room (March 2021)

Harry Guest

Head of Modern Languages, Lancing College 1961-1966

So, Harry has gone and we are all the poorer for that.      

He was a poet with a considerable reputation – his Wikipedia entry lists a substantial number of collections of poetry, translations, novels, essays. Some of his poems appeared in Penguin Modern Poets.

Harry first came loping across the Upper Quad from his rooms in Field’s in the autumn of 1961, beginning a period as Head of Modern Languages which covered one generation of boys (no girls then, of course).  

But it was some generation. Three knights of the realm (Sir Tim, Sir David and Sir Christopher) honoured for their services to literature were his pupils, and in a Festschrift compiled by friends, ex-colleagues and admirers for his eightieth birthday all three of them confessed to owing him a debt of gratitude, as did very many others.

Not a bad score – three knights in five years, but Harry would not want to be remembered just for that. Every bit as important were the many others, not only at Lancing, whom he enjoyed teaching and became not just pupils but friends. If you were to google a word count from the above-mentioned Festschrift, ‘enthusiasm’ would win by a country mile (actually ‘inspirational’ would be a close second).

Of course, the two are closely entwined. It was the enthusiasm he brought to whatever he was teaching that opened his students’ eyes.

Harry was not one for too many grades of opinion. He was more of a black and white man, not much time for shades of grey. He had tremendous admiration for Proust, Becket, Kafka, Mallarmé Baudelaire and a multitude of others; no time at all for Sylvia Plath or Philip Larkin…

David Hare remembers the occasion during a tutorial when Harry discovered that Professor George Steiner was under the impression that it was King Lear rather than Gloucester who tried to throw himself off Dover cliff. So incensed was he that he hurled the ‘Death of Tragedy’ by the revered professor into the wastepaper basket; a sort of literal metaphor.

Harry’s wife, Lynn, also a novelist, was sometimes capable of bringing him down to earth. He and I were involved at one point with the film club – or possibly the French film club and showed ‘Le Blé en Herbe’ to a rather slim audience which included Lynn. We watched with due respect and admiration and as the credits rolled, we congratulated each other on our sensitive choice. “Sentimental drivel,” said Lynn.  Or words to that effect. “Oh”, said Harry, rather taken aback.

Another memorable occasion was the evening when Harry invited a group of poets to perform with jazz in Great School. I think the whole school attended and listened open-mouthed to the poetry. Some of the imagery was startling – indeed so startling that the school chaplain walked out, muttering “disgusting”. The junior members of the audience loved it. The more senior, including the Head Master, William Gladstone, didn’t know which way to look.

Mind you, Harry may have appeared in Penguin Modern Poets, but that didn’t prevent him from having his old buffer’s technophobic side. No emails – just plenty of cards and letters written in miniscule handwriting. I think he enjoyed a good blimpish rant. And as for Brexit!

From Lancing, Harry and Lynn went to Japan where he lectured on English literature at Yokohama University. They both learnt Japanese – Harry added translations of Japanese poetry to his other work. Lynn published historical novels with a Japanese background. On returning to England Harry took a post as Head of French at Exeter School, where he remained until he retired.

His enjoyment of obscure literature continued unabated into old age. Not so very long ago he informed me how much he was enjoying Novalis’s novel Heinrich von Ofterdingen. Wow! He was an enthusiast’s enthusiast and what is more, he knew his stuff. He had a thesis on Mallarmé written when he was at the Sorbonne under his belt and (another cause of my admiration), he had read the whole of ‘A la recherche du temps perdu’!

I have to admit to a twinge of envy when I contemplate Harry’s life and work… Not of the volumes of poetry, the novels, the honorary degrees – but that he spread so much warmth, pleasure, and happiness around before he said the long good-bye.

Below is his comment on teaching poetry -

Poetry in Schools

‘The Times’ keeps mentioning ‘leading poets’ .Who

are they? Who are they leading? Where? And why?

In any generation there are few

Real poets who can challenge mystify

And thrill with grace and convolution. All

These scribblers who condemn learning by heart

Must fear their work lacks lasting value. Call

Their bluff. Make lazy teachers make kids start

To roll rich words around the tongue, explore

Strange words and find what poetry is for.

 

Michael Power, Lancing Common Room 1958-1985