After
J.H. Prynne died, I realized in speaking to a poet-friend about the obituary that I’d been mispronouncing his name for many years, meaning the very few times in those many years that I had reason to bring up his name in conversation. I was pronouncing his name like the folk singer’s name, John Prine. Perhaps that's another gauge of how well-known a writer is—that one can go on mispronouncing the name without correction.
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