Ezra Pound loved to jump, from idea to idea, from culture to culture, from lyric to epic. Whether on the tennis court or in the salon, he remained energized by ideas and action. He was also outspoken and insistent: “I have never known anyone worth a damn who wasn't irascible,” Pound told Margaret Anderson in 1917 and he fulfilled this dicta completely (SL 111). His agenda as a poet, translator, editor, anthologist, letter-writer, essayist and provocateur was clear, his plan precise: “Man reading shd. be man intensely alive. The book shd. be a ball of light in one's hand” (GK 55). Vague words are an anathema, the hard, clear statement the goal. And he does not hesitate to instruct: “Against the metric pattern,” he tells the poet Mary Barnard, “struggle toward natural speech. You haven't yet got sense of quantity” (SL 261). The best “mechanism for breaking up the stiffness and literary idiom is a different meter, the god damn iambic magnetizes certain verbal sequences” (SL 260). “To break the pentameter, that was the first heave,” Pound announces in The Cantos (LXXXI/538).

These statements against complacency and convention reveal the man as much as they do his literary practice. Everything about Pound was unorthodox.