Howard Nemerov
American poetry in the mid-twentieth century was a crowded and competitive field, shaped by shifting currents in modernism and a growing institutional framework of prizes, fellowships, and academic appointments. Howard Nemerov emerged from that environment as a poet, novelist, essayist, and university teacher whose work spanned several decades and drew recognition from the country's most prominent literary bodies.
Born in New York City on February 29, 1920, Nemerov was educated at the Ethical Culture Fieldston School and later at Harvard College. He wrote in English throughout his career and worked as a university teacher alongside his literary output. As a writer, he moved across forms — poetry, fiction, and the essay — though it was his poetry that drew the most sustained critical attention. His death came on July 5, 1991, in St. Louis.
The honors Nemerov accumulated over the course of his career were considerable. He received a Guggenheim Fellowship and a Fellowship of the Academy of American Poets. He was appointed Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress on two separate occasions, first from 1963 to 1964 and again from 1988 to 1990. He also received an honorary doctorate from the University of Miami, the St. Louis Literary Award, and the National Medal of Arts.
The clearest concentration of recognition came in 1977, when The Collected Poems of Howard Nemerov won three major awards in the same year: the National Book Award for Poetry, the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, and the Bollingen Prize. That convergence of honors from distinct and independent bodies — a commercial prize, a newspaper-endowed award, and one of the oldest prizes in American poetry — marked the collection as a significant achievement in his career and placed Nemerov among the more decorated American poets of his generation.
Quotes by Howard Nemerov
Howard Nemerov's insights on:

Poetry is a means of seeing invisible things and saying unspeakable things about them.

When you write it doesn’t occur to you that somebody could think different from what you do.

Occasionally a student writer comes up with something really beautiful and moving, and you won’t know for years if it was an accident or the first burst of something wonderful.

The historian is terribly responsible to what he can discern are the facts of the case, but he’s nothing if he doesn’t make out a case.

Mostly the thought and the verse come inseparably. In my poem Poetics, it’s as close as I come to telling how I do it.

I think there’s one thing which distinguishes our art – we don’t consider. We don’t think. We write a little verse because it comes to us.

History is one of those marvelous and necessary illusions we have to deal with. It’s one of the ways of dealing with our world with impossible generalities which we couldn’t live without.

I’ve thought of the last line of some poems for years and tried them out, It wouldn’t work because the last line was much too beautiful for the poem.

