Monday, August 31, 2009
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Via Silliman et al
- Remember the vanity press? How quaint that sounds. Here's why...
- Is poetry dying? Bah, humbug, I say. But despite National Poetry Month and other campaigns, the NEA finds that poetry readership has declined to its lowest point in 16 years.
- Talking with Erin Mouré. And what chatter in the chatter boxes!
One thing I've often wondered: how does Silliman get all his article links? And what never ceases to astound me: how does he keep up with it all?
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Silliman, Seth and the SOQ/Post Avant
Ron Silliman's opposition of SoQ and Post-Avant is patently reductionist and polarized. The likes of Henry Gould and I were pointing this out back in 2005. As I said in that post, where does Poe, who first coined the term SoQ, fit in? Yet Silliman is a juggernaut. I reckon he'll keep on railing against that SoQ strawman regardless of this or any other discussion: he lent us a profoundly deaf ear in the past. For that reason, I only visit Silliman occasionally now. Silliman shares a vast awareness of the *sociology* of poetry, particularly the poetry he is interested in, which for the most part, doesn't do a lot for me. I also appreciate his links lists and astute political observations. But -- he has his axe to grind, and he definitely has something to gain by the likes of you lashing out so verbosely against it. I find it interesting that here at least he links to you, creating (I hope, at long last, he proves me wrong) the disingenuous impression of being "open minded".
Friday, December 05, 2008
Via Jilly et al
-- Libraries as smut— “David Alpaugh, who has both run and won a poetry book contest himself, offers his astute analysis of the business of selecting poetry books for publication by holding a competition…” —
— In fact, researchers have settled on what they believe is a magic number for true expertise: 10,000 hours —
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Irving Layton Reconsidered (II)
It’s odd that Silliman’s announcement of Layton’s death elicited only two comments – mine, where I posted the poem below, and some one else saying how shocking it was that the announcement of the death of Canada’s “most famous poet” only prompted one comment.My first reaction was: What a bunch of ignorant egg-heads!
I give Ron credit, tho, for being generally up on Canadian poetry– he’s reviewed at least a couple about anthologies of our verse before I became aware of them, and he knows many of our poets, at least by name, probably better than I do -- but it’s telling he didn’t have anything more to say on Layton than splash his photo as if he were some rock star. Of course the “spatial and cognitive” gains more space and commentary than anything so traditional (yet wild) as this most Unquiet UnBritish Poet of So-Called Quietude… but I’m sure Ron would argue, and rightfully so, where else in blogland is “spatial and cognitive” poetry given such unlimited space? That’s his focus; it is his blog. But it would be nice for him to transcend his own self-imposed limitations once in a while. (Wouldn’t it be nice for us all…)
Back to Layton:
At this point, almost two weeks after his death, so much has been said on him elsewhere that it seems redundant to make yet another eulogy for this fighter, firebrand, and lion-like champion of poetry (there, that’s my eulogy). My only contribution to the discussion may be to point out that Enneagram-wise, Layton was an exemplar of an 8 with a 7-wing (which Don Richard Riso labels “The Maverick”… interesting that a Globe and Mail headline proclaimed him recently as “Canada’s Maverick Poet”)… an unusual number for a poet. To enthusiasts of both the Enneagram and Layton, this may be obvious (but how many of us are there? maybe one or two).
Layton’s inner “mantra” which he constantly reformulated to himself and broadcast to the world: The world is an unjust place, and I defend the innocent. Of course, “the innocent” was all too often himself, who he defended with his fists (as he says, in childhood) and (in adulthood, probably childhood too) all the powers of his impressive vocabulary. But when that innocent was a suffering prisoner or poet or bird or cat or bull calf, he could call forth a compassion that was truly breathtaking in its depth and largeness of spirit. If you turn to pp. 332-334 of Don Richard Riso’s Personality Types, you’ll see the dynamic of Layton's persona described practically to a tee. An extract that could describe him at his best:
The healthy Eight’s charisma combines with the healthy Seven’s capacity to enjoy life, producing an extraordinarily outgoing personality, often attracting many people and involving them in their hopes and plans. They create opportunities for others and enjoy challenging people to make something of themselves. There is a joyful enthusiasm for living life and sharing their experience and fortitude. Their inner strength and vitality may be so outstanding as to allow Eights with a Seven-wing to have a public, and possibly historical, impact. Their magnanimity will have a practical focus in the concern they show for the material well-being of others.
And at his worst:
Unhealthy persons of this subtype are ruthless and impulsive: they can say or do things that will later be regarded as either a stroke of genius or a fatal mistake. They can be offensive and tyrannical, verbally and physically brutish to others, lashing out at whoever has frustrated them or dared resist their wills. They have explosively violent tempers and quickly get into a rage. They easily feel betrayed and resist any restraints upon their behaviour. Their manic tendencies reinforce their delusions of omnipotence: they may spend vast amounts of money to feed their to feed their inflated notions of themselves. (I don’t know how far he went in this regard…) They tend to get out of control when they are anxious or feel threatened. Since they are susceptible to anxiety, they defend themselves against it by acting out, impulsively striking first, attempting to destroy before they are destroyed.
In all…
… robust, earthy, materialistic… feet firmly planted on the ground, but… not beyond seeking attention and regaling people with stories and “straight talk”. Even if … of limited financial means, Eights with a Seven-wing like to throw money around and have “nights on the town”. The Seven-wing also adds a degree of hyperbole, so they tend to make big promises and exaggerate situations in an effort to recruit others into their schemes.
Sounds like him? Those who are interested in exploring the Enneagram – a complex, enigmatic personality typology that can lead to literally clairvoyant insight into oneself and others -- should read Helen Palmer’s The Enneagram, and Don Richard Riso's and Ross Hudson’s Personality Types and Wisdom and the Enneagram. The Riso/Hudson Enneagram Institute site probably provides the completest information on the net.
But enough typecasting for the moment.
Layton did write a lot of dreck, all of it, however, a lively sort of dreck. Much of his work is a mixed bag of true inspiration and excess -- a source of fascination in itself, how a man could be so brilliant and yet at times aesthetically blind. Below though is one of Layton's stellar poems, that although much celebrated and anthologized, I’ve been unable to find up to now in its entirety on the net.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
OF DIARY BLOGS
Most diary blogs are of little interest to me -- like Ron Silliman, (I found this entry foraging in the back issues) I usually prefer blogs as an intellectual discipline, source of information, etc. But occasionally a diary-type blog comes up on my radar that is so exceptionally well-written that it proves to be . . . well, an exception.
Last year, when I was on the rolls of Blog-City, I came across a blog called Land of the Blind. It was so gripping and so beautifully written, it is no exaggeration to say that reading it seemed like watching a Pulitzer Prize-worthy novel unfold before my eyes. (No, it is not to be confused with a current blockbuster crime thriller by the same name.) Be-jeezus, some passages took my breath away! I wrote the guy to tell him that if I were Harper Collins or the like, I would send him a hundred thousand dollar advance with a contract proposal... Unfortunately (for us readers at least), as so often happens with extremely "hot blogs", it suddenly vanished into cybersmoke: without much warning, guy pressed DELETE on the whole affair. The blog did get very close to the emotional bone -- it was a surruptitious confessional detailing the stages of a breakup with his wife, and the emotional rollercoaster leading to his own nervous breakdown ... I actually saved quite a few entries on my own hard drive, and am tempted to just post one or two that don't get too personal (after all, I can't ask his permission -- but he did write many extraordinary musings and reflections too) to show how good such blog writing can be.
Blaugustine is written on a much more even keel... (This one I discovered thanks to Emily Lloyd's blog-roll...) No, it is not P-Prize material, but it is very well written and illustrated. The diary of Paris-based artist and illustrator Natalie Arbeloff , it is a veritable feast for the eyes... one of the most gorgeous blogs on the net. Under a lovely pastel (acrylic?) illustrating the subject (you have to go to the blog to see it), here are some reflections from May 17:
The African presence in Paris is nowhere more evident or more vibrant than on the RER platforms of the Gare du Nord and on the commuter trains. On my way to and from the suburbs where my aunt and uncle were hospitalised, I was enchanted by the spectacle of ordinary Africans going about their daily lives dressed in dazzling exotic plumage, colours that we consider clashing, patterns we disdain as garish, fabrics knotted and draped every which way over solidly curvaceous bodies in glorious, cacophonous harmony. Birds of paradise glowing against a background of concrete, steel and soot. I don't know their individual stories, where they came from, what they feel about living in France, whether they're happy or miserable or resigned. But compared to them, the rest of us seem to be in some kind of uniform, whether it's designer grunge, designer chic or just plain drab global sameness. The Africans in Europe (at least those who don't dress "like everyone else") wear their continent on their bodies and I for one am grateful to them for bringing such joy to my jaded eyes.
Here in Montreal we also see such Africans (mostly they come from from places like Senegal, Rwanda, and Burkina Faso), evidently not in such great numbers as in Paris, but she voiced my feelings about their dress versus ours exactly.
This is a blog I'll surely drop into from time to time.
Surely, though, there is great literature evolving somewhere in blog land. Does anyone have any recommendations?
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Gould vs. Silliman & the School of Quietude
Ron Silliman had been holding forth again (as always these days, it seems) on his Post-Avant vs. School of Quietude thesis, a binary which like all dualisms becomes oppressively reductionist when adhered to at any lengthy length. Especially when he lumps people like Sylvia Plath, Theodore Roethke, John Berryman, and Robert Lowell into presumably stuffy and "quiet" realm of the School of Quietude (SoQ).
Henry Gould's challenge to RS's assumptions couldn't be better put. So far RS hasn't even acknowleged it, let alone directly contested it. I transcribe the most incisive of his three April 15 riposts here (the others are hilariously ironic, one in mock-Shakespearean style... check them out)
The SoQ/post-avant theory is a mountain of polemic founded on pure special pleading. It's "us vs. them" paranoia as convenience. Why? Because literature, art and poetry are rooted in fundamental ethical and aesthetic criteria. Inner law. And every work of art is an imperfect attempt to express that law. The effort by polemicists and literary-historical revisionists such as Silliman, Gooding and others, to promote certain forms of art and poetry on a rhetorical-collective-political basis (by which certain literary groups and trends are inherently and historically "superior" to others) is bound to fail. Because art finds its sanction only through the art itself, and collective ideologies and networks are only forms of intellectual inside trading. They corrupt the essential "work" of art -- which is to express the ethical and aesthetic problem in its own original and irreducible terms.
To which I say, Amen.
Maybe this swipe is the only one Henry will make before flying back to his solitary roost.... need he say more?
One question I have which I may yet stick into Ron Silliman's squawkbox at an opportune moment: Silliman writes in his definition of the SoQ that it was Edgar Allen Poe who came up with the term, to describe (I'm paraphrasing here, & also drawing on his earlier definition of the so-called "School") a dominant group of conventional (viz. mediocre) writers and reviewers who accused him of not being "quiet" enough in his writing. To me a phenomenon that corresponds to Poe's notion of a School of Quietude does exist. You can see it in any of the array of mostly University based reviews that publish so much safe, quiet, peculiarly insipid material. See my review of last fall's ARC as an example. Yet if we look at Poe in comparison with Whitman (the real post-avant prototype), he definitely comes across as British-accented, narrow, conservative, even like -- curse the thought -- a Sylvia Plath or Ted Hughes. I think by Silliman's definition, Poe would be a hard-core SoQ'er. He definitely doesn't seem very post-avant to me.