Guzzle your ghazals

I just came back from dinner at a Peruvian restaurant with five of my students; they wanted to have some fun over the Xmas break, and invited me out; I was happy to join them. We got stuffed on seafood and plied ourselves with sangria, and had plenty of laughs. The same five are captured in the above photograph taken at a school Xmas party about ten days ago (I have more than 20 on my class list: this is a small "core group" that hangs out together). They are, across the top, Gabriel from Columbia, Dary from Cambodia, Choun Ming from China via Paris (he actually grew up in France), and across the bottom, yours truly, and Svilen and Alexandra from Bulgaria. Lovely people, all of them.

Today I spent much of the day making three submissions (assertions?) to various reviews -- an occasion to look over the poems, fine tune with changes and deletions (one good reason to send things out: revisit your own work, and by implication, your life). A submission to CV2's upcoming Jilted Issue took me on a trip through time: I revisited a very lonely poem from almost two decades ago (it's a good one); the three more recent ones are a good measure of where I've come. A poignant experience, going through those: I'm sure CV2 is going to get a crop of heartfelt poems.

On Xmas day, I put up the post below. An exploration of ghazals, it's a kind of implicit Good Cheer. So I didn't bother with the usual huzzahs.

I remember I was distinctly disappointed when I learned how "ghazal" is pronounced in official Arabic: it is not a variation of gazelle, but rather more like "ghuzzle" -- perhaps appropriate for a poem form traditionally centred on drinking and love.

Right now, though, I think I'll make the implicit explicit: Season's greetings, everyone!

Eric Folsom: Northeastern Anti-Ghazals

Although books outnumber chapbooks on my shelves by at least two dozen to one, the chapbook has always struck me as a format most germane to poetry: the intensity of the form lends itself to short draughts. Looking at all the unfinished collections on my shelves, as well as all those I have read in full to which I might return to reread a handful, I could easily say that in every full-length book of poetry, I find a chapbook I could call my own.

Eric Folsom's Northeastern Anti-Ghazals is a chap I picked up at the last League of Poets' AGM in Edmonton. I read the poems with great interest a couple of months ago, and now am rereading them and enjoying them all the more. Especially arresting is the diamond-like particularity of many of those couplets, i.e. observations like:

Inside where I stand, one cobweb on the ceiling
Delicately twists when the furnace comes to life.

or the suggestiveness of

Labouring with love for love, the wedding ring
On the spice shelves while I do the dishes.

... and the frequently mysterious leaps between those couplets.

The Ghazal, according to my Dictionary of Poetic Terms, is a Near Eastern verse form, celebrating love and drinking, composed of 5 to 12 couplets, the last of which contains the author's name. One feature of them is a spirit of intensity and compression that brings to mind the haiku; according to Kate Braid & Sandy Shreve's In Fine Form, traditional ghazal couplets are never enjambed; and in fact were so independent of each other that their order could be changed without damaging the poem.

Eric tells me (we corresponded by e-mail) that the “Anti” part in the title "is a nod to Phyllis Webb, who first used the term to acknowledge that she was really writing a highly westernized version of the ghazal, not recognizable to most Arabic poets, and one might presume Persian, Urdu, or Hindi." (Possibly English haikus could be called an anti-haikus for the same reason.) His poems tend to take the form of understated, sharp observations: drinking is not a primary feature of them, although definitely love figures prominently, in a restrained sort of way; I see no enjambment between couplets, however, and although none of the poems includes his name, many of the poems end with a first-person self-reference.

Speaking of those leaps between couplets, I am reminded of a passage by one Idis Parry quoted in Alan Watt's The Book:

What guarantee is there that the five senses, taken together, do cover the whole of possible experience? They cover simply our actual experience, our human knowledge of facts and events. There are gaps between the fingers; there are gaps between the senses. In these gaps is the darkness which hides the connection between things... This darkness is the source of our vague fears and anxieties, but also the home of the gods.

In a number of the poems, one is left guessing about why the various couplets are sewn together. In others, a multiplicity of connections is possible. In their cryptic construction, ambiguities abound. Clearly, this is a form that takes risks, but can also bring great rewards. In the following poem, for instance, the reader is forced to shift gears emotionally as well as logistically with the shifts in points of view. It is the mind’s hunger for context that finds an implied narrative in the juxtapositions:


THE WISE

She wore a scent like blue light bulbs,
Wore her coat the way trees wear hills.

After the bloodiest campaign in years,
His heart smouldered like an old cigar.

His eyes put down roots for the first time,
The light of crows in his hair.

Every influence caught her off-guard:
A vaginal infection, the phone calls.

He courted his own grief,
He thought she would be his second wife.

No angry objects on this table,
No jack-in-the-box anger from your lips.

I love your failure to communicate,
I love your naked back facing me.


Each of these couplets, of course, could be a separate epigram: a hallmark of the form. The second one, for instance, could be about Donald Rumsfeld. But considering that the first five couplets shift between a man and a woman, a very intense war between the sexes is set up. The second last couplet is a particularly brilliant one: it can be taken as both a climax of the implied narrative, and negation of the tension, depending on whether one takes it as a command or an observation. Considering the intensity of the previous couplets, and of that image of “jack-in-the-box anger” that quite literally shoots out from the page, it commands attention, in any case; even when one says “there is no anger”, presence of anger is invoked. Similarly the title, “The Wise”: is it ironic? Does it suggest the process these characters must go through to become wise? The denouement is a lovely one, a celebration of beauty, and yet an unresolved tension: it could be taken as playfully tender, or deeply ironic, all at once.

Googling Eric and ghazals, I found this link, where you can read articles by Eric and others about the form, as well as a couple of other poems from the collection, including a personal favourite, "Just Another Yuppie Raising Children".

North-Eastern Anti-Ghazals is (on the surface of it) a plain production on ordinary paper comprising 15 poems; it is, as with all chapbooks, one of those instant rarities. Published by above/ground press in Ottawa, it can be obtained here.

If you feel you've got to use the word "soul" in your poem, that may be the very thing your poem lacks!

This, or something like it, in response to a post on Greg's blog. (I'm not implying anything about Greg here: read the post.)

SNOW DAY

No teaching tonight -- Montreal schools are closed after last night's storm. It's the second snow day in two weeks. Here, the chairs on my balcony, a "cardrift" seen through my window, and the window through which I took that photo, beside the desk where I write.

The animators for the cartoon South Park have done some great videos with excerpts from Alan Watt's lectures. Thanks to Robert for pointing this out.

Another Delphic passage from Alan Watts' The Book. Again, bear in mind that this was written in 1966.

... To most of us living today, all these fantasies of the future seem most objectionable: the loss of privacy and freedom, the restriction of travel, and the progressive conversion of flesh and blood, wood and stone, fruit and fish, sight and sound, into plastic, synthetic, and electronic reproductions. Increasingly, the artist and musician puts himself out of business through making ever more faithful and inexpensive reproductions of his original works. Is reproduction in this sense to replace biological reproduction, though cellular fission or sexual union? In short, is the next step in evolution to be the transformation of man into nothing more than electronic patterns?

This passage is stimulating in how it seems a melange of on-the-mark as well as off-the-mark speculations. 41 years later, "restriction of travel" seems quite off, in light of how all corners of the globe have become more accessible by jet, etc. -- but if he means a "reduction of movement" or "increasingly sedentary life", as in the post below*, well, we need only to think of computer-bound office workers, bloggers, etc. "Loss of freedom" since the time he wrote is also debatable: in some respects, we (or at least a great many of us) have more choice and influence at our fingertips than ever; in others, we feel ever more powerless to affect things. But what he says about cultural reproduction -- again, bang on, my dear Watts!

*this passage is only two paragraphs after the one below, and in between he talks mainly about the "individual getting smaller and smaller" as population increases and resources shrink.

Alan Watts

Take a look at this prophetic observation by the brilliant Alan Watts. This is from his book titled The Book and was written in 1966. To put it into today's context, we need only think of the internet, broadband, and the corporatization of media:

Despite the fact that more accidents happen in the home than elsewhere, increasing efficiency of communication and of controlling human behavior can, instead of liberating us into the air like birds, fix us to the ground like toadstools. All information will come in by super-realistic television and other electronic devices as yet in the planning stage or barely imagined. In one way this will enable the individual to extend himself anywhere without moving his body—even to distant regions of space. But this will be a new kind of individual—an individual with a colossal external nervous system reaching out and out into infinity. And this electronic nervous system will be so interconnected that all individuals plugged in will tend to share the same thoughts, the same feelings, and the same experiences. There may be specialized types, just as there are specialized cells and organs in our bodies. For the tendency will be for all individuals to coalesce into a single bioelectronic body.

I just discovered, quite by accident, that a poem of mine is on the Canadian Poets Against War site. I sent it in to them sometime last summer -- and I guess they published it without informing me. Looking at its placement on their list, I can only imagine it's been there for some time. Funny, I wrote this one 'way back in the early '80s, but did some minor edits just before submitting it. (Never too late to edit. I'll probably be editing on my death bed.) Curious thing is, I vividly remember writing it -- in a cafe beside Pages Books on Queen St. in Toronto. It was written in response to news coverage I had just seen of the Iran-Iraq war.

CCA SYMPOSIUM: A REPORT

Last weekend, as I said before, I attended the Canadian Conference of the Arts 2007 Symposium on The Role of the Arts and Culture in Canadian Public Diplomacy. This is a draft of a report I’ve written for the League of Canadian Poets. It was not requested of me; but since they paid my way in, I figured certain people there might benefit from more than a thirty-second synopsis on a conference call. And maybe you, as well. (If not, then scroll way down.)

As a working artist, of course, it was hard to get my mind around the notion of “public” or even its subset, “cultural” diplomacy. Public diplomacy can be defined as cultural and academic exchanges between nations and more broadly, the promotion of cultural and national values so as to create a favourable image of one's own country abroad. For me, this seemed an almost theoretical issue, the concern chiefly of politicians, academics and arrangers of international events. My own preoccupation as an artist is surviving while putting out the best art I can, and publishing or performing it in the best (or at least decent) places; for the rest, come what may.

Part of the haziness of the topic, of course, lies in the terms in question. Culture can be defined in at least a hundred ways, from the fine arts to fast foods. The working definition for this conference seemed to be products and performances of the various disciplines conventionally understood as “the arts”, with the values and experiences of the culture as a kind of matrix or background.

“Diplomacy”, also, is a particularly sticky word: it suggests not only reasoned negotiation, but doing some sort of PR for your country. What if as an artist you have serious issues to contend with, and choose to show your society as you see it, warts and all? Isn’t social criticism one of the fundamental purposes of art? If you as an artist engage in such exposés, does that rule you out as a cultural “representative” of your country? These questions I had in mind as I went to the conference.

Although, as I said before, I imagined the conference would consist of so much complaining about our present arts-unfriendly government, which was conspicuously absent from the proceedings, the moderators tried to set a higher tone by presenting the day as one of “gentle reflection” on the role of the arts in international affairs, and stressing that we would try to “s’elever de la politique malgré tout” – to rise above politics, despite everything.

This, perhaps, was easy to do, considering that we were sitting in a plush auditorium among comfortable, distinguished company.

Here, in any case, are some of salient points made by various speakers. (I must stress that I did find this an educational experience: otherwise, I wouldn’t be writing this.)

A concern frequently expressed, not only by the Canadians on the panels but even a Japanese diplomat, is that despite a few major coups on the international stage in the last number of years, the general perception of Canada around the world is still that of a country lacking in cultural sophistication. The popular image is that we have plenty of natural beauty and resources, produce lots of hockey players, but continue to club our seals. Canada’s cultural diversity and urban character are relatively unrepresented and unknown. A lot of this is due to a lack of promotion of Canadian culture abroad. Unfavourable comparisons were made to other middle powers – France, Germany, and Britain – that spend a lot more per capita on international communications, cultural centres in foreign lands, representation at festivals, etc. than Canada.

A number of commentators stressed, of course, that cultural representation abroad is a kind of “soft power”, a sharing of our values, dreams and experiences that peels away prejudices and heals divisions between nations and peoples. Even if our art challenges common assumptions or is sharply critical of our society, that goes to show that Canada champions one of its core values, freedom of expression. The dissemination of our culture abroad redounds to our benefit not only in terms of international respect, but cultural tourism. (We need only think of all the Japanese tourists flocking to see the site of Anne of Green Gables. I hope someday I can come up with a better example. As a side note – this is my note, not one made during the conference – even the film Borat, a film of low jokes about Kazakhstan, has apparently resulted in a multi-fold increase in tourism to that country.)

One commentator – a marketing manager for the Stratford Festival whose name I failed to note -- suggested that ideally, if we were truly committed to enhancing our international “brand image”, we would create an independent entity along the lines of the Canada Council, but entirely devoted to the promotion of Canadian culture abroad. This would include enhanced budgets for touring, in order to “push our arts” around the world. To have the kind of muscle needed to do the job properly, he figured 150 million dollars per year would be suitable. As he put it, “Do it big or stay in bed.” If such an agency could be supported by an endowment, to make it impervious to the vagaries of changing government policy, so much the better. At the present time, international cultural promotion is a “poor stepchild of (the Ministries of) Foreign Affairs and Heritage”: this arms-length relationship creates a credibility gap. It also feeds an inferiority complex among artists: aren’t we worth being validated outside our country? Wouldn’t it be great to be told a little more often that we are outstanding, and to be so treated? Of course, such a commitment would imply greatly increased financial support for culture inside the country as well.

A commentator from Quebec pointed out that la belle province has fared better, perhaps, through its cultural promotions than other provinces. The international success of Cirque du Soleil has put forth a strong image of imagination, expertise, style and excellent management all at once; so, too, the films of Denys Arcand. A rather minimal provincial arts promotion budget –some 8 million dollars annually, all told – goes a long way, especially considering how little artists actually demand for their work. Left begging, however, was the question of whether artists should be content to receive so little.

Other notable contributions were made by the likes of former Foreign Affairs (and recently, Defence) Minister Bill Graham and Communications Minister Marcel Masse.

Bill Graham reasserted his statement, made while he was Foreign Affairs minister, that culture, following peace and security and economic development, was the “third pillar” of foreign diplomacy. He openly admitted that his own government did not do enough for the arts, although of course, the present government is “far worse” in ignoring that third pillar entirely. He praised the former Gov. General Adrienne Clarkson’s insistence that her foreign visits be accompanied by a cultural entourage, even though it was so roundly deprecated in the press for its “extravagance”, arguing that it impressed upon some important leaders that Canada, culturally speaking, is indeed a major player on the world stage.

Marcel Masse was actually refreshing in how he spoke about Canadian culture in terms that have been quite absent from discussions over at least the last two decades: how we Canadians are both awash in American culture and yet need to distinguish ourselves from it, how we need to express and export our distinct sensibility, etc. While Americans have a particular genius for marrying culture and the private sector, Canada clearly has to go another way. At the same time, he stressed, it is disturbing how rarely cultural questions are debated in parliament: cultural questions are simply not on the minds of our political decision makers.

Many other things were said, some of the most stimulating and insightful by artists on the panels and question period. I shall never forget, for instance, famed dancer/choreographer Judith Marcuse’s dance/pantomime expressing isolation and communication, or her inspired presentation afterwards. What I came away with from the conference was a heightened sense of the international ramifications of my own work, however small a poetry audience might be – how it can bring people together beyond the national sphere, and put a human face on the nation. Art is an important way to share who we are, in all our passions and particularity. As Judith Marcuse put it, a culture that doesn’t share its stories “gets sick.” And as Guilloaume Sirois in one of the background reports for this conference writes, “Whether they like it or not, artists and culture professionals carry the national flag abroad.” At the same time, modern medias present new opportunities to do some informal “cultural diplomacy” of one’s own: I need only think of various online reviews I’ve published in, YouTube, or for that matter, this blog.