October's exchange ("The Big Three") offers useful insight into the nature of prizes. Just by intuiting the difference in taste between Averill Curdy and Dan Chiasson one senses the importance of compromise for committees. As Curdy and Chiasson are quick to observe: what gets chosen isn't necessarily an effective barometer for excellence or longevity. The same, however, can be said for what we read. Our collective taste is likewise flawed. John Barr's September letter to Poetry's subscribers suggests as much. The Poetry Foundation, thanks to Ruth Lilly's generous donation, wants to recognize "Neglected Masters," to reward poets whose work we've somehow overlooked. It is noteworthy, then, when Averill Curdy writes: "in no way do prizes predict what's durable: how many sit down with a volume of . . . William Bronk (National Book Award, 1982)." Because Bronk, dead now for five years, is a neglected master. His volume To Praise the Music revolutionized the sonnet form. He remains American poetry's most consistently insightful practitioner of philosophical verse. Just because we don't choose to sit down with a volume of William Bronk doesn't mean Bronk's to blame. As William Logan point outs in his antagonism of Hopkins, the blame might be ours, due to "some defect of character."