The Icelandic Canadian - 01.12.2009, Blaðsíða 53

Vol. 62 #3
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
195
had, of course, to get his permission not
only to use the poem in our guide, but also
to obtain his assent to use the version that
appears in it. Until the latest (new edition)
of the guide, we acknowledged the
Milkweed Edition in every printing of the
book (we also had to get their permission
to use the poem, despite it being a different
version). I feel badly that it was left out of
this edition and will takes steps to reinstate
it the next time it is printed.
The published version was not known
to me at the time that I heard 'ours' recited
at an awards' ceremony by the actress Sean
Phillips who had been given it by him
many years before. I was deeply affected
by it and to procure a copy I began by con-
tacting her - quite tricky since anyone of
her profession is fiercely guarded by
agents, etc. When I did at last make contact
it transpired that she had long since lost
touch with him. So 1 then got in touch
Iceland's national newspaper asking if they
would place an advertisement and how
much it would cost. I was informed that it
would have to be in Icelandic. So I wrote to
an Icelandic publisher to ask they would
kindly translate an advertisement I had
drafted and place it in Morgunbladid. The
advertisement simply asked if anyone
knew of the whereabouts of 'the poet Jon
Holm' because this was the name Ms
Phillips had given me. Quite remarkably a
few weeks later someone responded.
Somehow or another an Icelandic radio sta-
tion got wind of this story and the result
was a late night three-way conversation on
a radio programme between myself, Bill
Holm and the publisher.
You may be intrigued to hear that it is
entirely due to the poem that we brought
this nation into our series of
Xenophobe's® Guides and set out to find a
writer for it. For me it is a truly wonderful
piece of work, in both versions. I am
tempted to change over to the one you
quote but, largely due to the extraordinary
nature of its discovery I hope you do not
mind if we continue with the one I am so
fond of, and deeply moved by. However, I
shall gladly correct the identity of the
author to 'Bill Holm1 since you say that
this is the name under which he wrote.
I also look forward to reading other
works by him and much appreciate your rec-
ommending his essays. He sounded like a
delightful person and I am sorry that I did not
have the pleasure of meeting him.
Thank you again for your most informa-
tive and helpful letter which was a joy to
receive since it reminded me of this serendip-
itous episode in which some verses overheard
heard when flicking channels on television
resulted in such a rewarding outcome.
With kindest regards
- Anne Taute, Series Editor Oval Books
Reply to Oval Books, Aug. 2, 2009
Dear Ms. Taute—
Thank you so much for your prompt
response. Obviously I was incorrect in
assuming that the poem you printed was a
translation of a translation, but that instead it
was a different, probably earlier, version that
Bill had given to Sean Phillips. I am particu-
larly pleased to hear that it was this poem that
caused Oval Books to publish the book in the
first place. He would have chuckled and
twinkled if he had known.
To say that someone is a "force of
nature" is a cliche, of course, but it is hard to
describe Bill without in some way creating
such a mental assessment of him. He was a
huge man, six and a half feet tall and always
overweight, bright eyed, red faced and white
bearded, the perfect Santa, with a voice that
was not always loud, but which had enough
natural volume when he needed it to make
electronic amplification totally unnecessary.
He was a fine classical pianist and harpsi-
chordist with musical tastes that ran heavily
to Bach, although in Iceland last summer he
talked about a newfound appreciation for
Chopin. He also played a lot of jazz, particu-
larly Scott Joplin's ragtime classics. He quit
singing publicly a few years ago, but for most
of his life he was known for his tenor voice.
He had a baby grand piano and a harpsichord
in his home in Minneota, Minnesota, where
he lived most of the year. In Brimnes, his lit-
tle house in Iceland, where he spent a few
weeks each year, he had a small Yamaha
piano which he felt provided the best music