I've noticed that most narratives of Spanish literary history revolve around concepts of insufficiency and belatedness. For example:
Spain's "enlightenment" was insufficient, and thus Spain never developed a culture of modernity. The consequences are seen even today, in that Spain is not as "European" as the rest of (Western Europe.)
The transition to democracy was insufficient because of the lack of an enlightenment tradition. (the "Subirats hypothesis").
"Postmodernism" in Spain is insufficient and superficial because Spain never had a great enlightenment tradition of modernity.
Romanticism in Spain was insufficient and superficial. It took Luis Cernuda--a 20th century poet--to bring a more profound, Hölderlinian romanticism to Spain.
So basically, I have as my field a literature defined by its problematic relationship to modernity, expressed as a narrative of insufficiency and belatedness. The original sin is not having an enlightenment in the first place. This failure, in turn, stems from the act of reconquering Spain from the Moors and expelling the Jews and later the remaining Arabs. Then setting up the inquisition and resisting Protestantism. Stamping out Jewish and Islamic-tinged mysticism in favor of orthodoxy.
So there are two narratives, really. One, on the left, celebrates anyone who (exceptionally) fights against the central anti-modernization at the heart of Spanish history. Blanco White, Larra, Américo Castro, Cernuda, Goytisolo. The other, on the right, celebrates the achievements of empire and Christianity.
7 jun 2005
There's nothing like submitting to a magazine and then reading blog entries by the magazine's editor about reading maybe 5.000 poems at a single sitting while sipping green tea, finding 9 or 10 poems, none of them yours (most probably). You can also see said editor complain about poets who send him abusive emails, leaving abusive comments at his blog, after being rejected. Apparently the magazine was good enough for the poet to submit to in the first place, but, once they are rejected, it becomes boring and conservative, edited by this now incompetent editor.
***
Coolidge is not an optional poet. That is, you aren't allowed to overlook him or say "he's not to my taste." I don't mean that you can't dislike him. Likes and dislikes are personal. All I'm saying is he's undismissable, irreplaceable, nonpareil. It's required reading for all true Bemshaites.
There are maybe three periods. Reading the early Coolidge is watching a poet train himself in language. ING, Space, Polaroid are good examples. There's a lot of attention to phonemes, morphemes, and lexemes, as though the poet didn't yet trust hinmself to deal in syntax. If you haven't read Coolidge at all I would start with the middle period. Own Face, Solution Passage, The Crystal Text, Mine, The American Ones, Sound as Thought.. We're talking basically late 70 and 80s. Here Coolidge is more syntactical, "referential" and even confessional. You see the fruits of the labor of working with morphemes and phonemes, but in a more narrative context. With "late" Coolidge some repetitiousness and even tediousness creeps in. There are good still good books, but I would read these last, after the middle and early. While Ron seems to think it's simply a matter of seeing what's in front of your face, I would argue that it takes years to be able to read and assimilate Coolidge. Or maybe it's a matter of learning the simplest things last. I think of that poor woman staring at Mondrian for years without getting anything out of it. I've always loved Coolidge, but it's taken me a while to get through all of this vast and at times difficult terrain. And he keeps writing more so I will never be done.
The best 100 pages of Coollidge bests the best 100 pages of any other living American poet. Discuss in comments.
***
Coolidge is not an optional poet. That is, you aren't allowed to overlook him or say "he's not to my taste." I don't mean that you can't dislike him. Likes and dislikes are personal. All I'm saying is he's undismissable, irreplaceable, nonpareil. It's required reading for all true Bemshaites.
There are maybe three periods. Reading the early Coolidge is watching a poet train himself in language. ING, Space, Polaroid are good examples. There's a lot of attention to phonemes, morphemes, and lexemes, as though the poet didn't yet trust hinmself to deal in syntax. If you haven't read Coolidge at all I would start with the middle period. Own Face, Solution Passage, The Crystal Text, Mine, The American Ones, Sound as Thought.. We're talking basically late 70 and 80s. Here Coolidge is more syntactical, "referential" and even confessional. You see the fruits of the labor of working with morphemes and phonemes, but in a more narrative context. With "late" Coolidge some repetitiousness and even tediousness creeps in. There are good still good books, but I would read these last, after the middle and early. While Ron seems to think it's simply a matter of seeing what's in front of your face, I would argue that it takes years to be able to read and assimilate Coolidge. Or maybe it's a matter of learning the simplest things last. I think of that poor woman staring at Mondrian for years without getting anything out of it. I've always loved Coolidge, but it's taken me a while to get through all of this vast and at times difficult terrain. And he keeps writing more so I will never be done.
The best 100 pages of Coollidge bests the best 100 pages of any other living American poet. Discuss in comments.
6 jun 2005
El culo de Bette
El culo de Bette no existe en el tiempo; sólo es espacio.
El culo de Bette no tiene ni orejas ni ojos
ni pecho. ni labios -- ¡faltaba más!
Sólo es culo, puro culo intemporal.
El culo de Bette no tiene Bette, ni Marilyn.
Se ha quedado sin Greta, sin Ingrid.
¡Ay de los tacones perdidos, del lápiz
de labios que Bette ya no tiene, que
el culo de Bette ya no tiene, que nunca ha tenido!
Ni tendrá nunca. Pobre de Bette.
Pobre del culo amplio pero inexistente
de Bette.
El culo de Bette no existe en el tiempo; sólo es espacio.
El culo de Bette no tiene ni orejas ni ojos
ni pecho. ni labios -- ¡faltaba más!
Sólo es culo, puro culo intemporal.
El culo de Bette no tiene Bette, ni Marilyn.
Se ha quedado sin Greta, sin Ingrid.
¡Ay de los tacones perdidos, del lápiz
de labios que Bette ya no tiene, que
el culo de Bette ya no tiene, que nunca ha tenido!
Ni tendrá nunca. Pobre de Bette.
Pobre del culo amplio pero inexistente
de Bette.
5 jun 2005
I've been continuing to readThe Canary # 4. One sign of a well-edited journal is that the poems by lesser known poets are as good or better than those of the "famous-to-a-few" poets. I was looking forward to work by some of my favorites, like Howe, Nakayasu, Schultz, Jarnot. These did not disappoint, but many of my favorites in this issue are by poets I didn't know as well. David Trinidad's long but absolutely devastating pantoum, for example. I liked Danielle Pafunda's "Small Town Rocker" a lot. It's like a classic "New Yorker story" with all the extraneous material cut away. I was glad of this because I hadn't liked her poem in the Best American Poetry very much. Devin Johnston comes through strong in two poems. I can't help seeing a Ronald Johnson connection, since Devin runs Flood Editions which publishes Johnson. Another favorite: Jess Mynes' "November." I tend to like lean, spare styles like those of Johnston or Mynes. Paul Naylor is someone I've never heard of before, and his poetry in this issue is also very good.
3 jun 2005
My Carve came today, along with a Spoon River Poetry Review. Also, I picked up a copy of The Canary at a little store that tends to have lots of assorted magazines. I came across a poem by Laurel Snyder in The Canary that surprised me: "You'd come to my house if I were sleeping / naked. If I were naked with naked Britney Spears." I had never read her poetry before, and I expected it to be somehow more ... earnest and relgious. It's funny how one's blog image of a person creates certain expectations.
Not much in Spoon River: a lot of clunky midwestern style poems. Jeffery Bahr's "Dinosaurs" is good, upholding the honor of the bloggers. Carve has Jordan's "Overcast Market," among other good things.
Not much in Spoon River: a lot of clunky midwestern style poems. Jeffery Bahr's "Dinosaurs" is good, upholding the honor of the bloggers. Carve has Jordan's "Overcast Market," among other good things.
Another thought on publication and rejection (I have a lot of poems out there circulating right now and I had a weird dream about it last night.): it might take a few batches of poems to get the editor to warm up to your "voice." If you really feel you are right for a journal, but the editor has not warmed up to you, try again. Don't overdo it though. I'd recommend a journal where you think you might be read by the same one or three people every time, as opposed to one that uses screening by MFA students.
This does not apply to the poet who doesn't even know his or her work is truly crappy, and submits over and over again.
This does not apply to the poet who doesn't even know his or her work is truly crappy, and submits over and over again.
2 jun 2005
Also, I am updating links. Check your link at the left. Is this your current website or have I not made note of your change? Was that your blog url in like, 2003? Did I forget you completely? (I've added Tim Peterson and C. Dale Young recently.) Write me an email. I know there are blogs I read regularly that I don't link to now, but I'm not sure which ones they are!
1 jun 2005
"One of the defining peers of my own imagined company of poets."
That's a blurb for Ronald Johnson, written by Creeley. It might seem rather ordinary, as though he could have written it about anybody, but to me it is quite striking. Every word seems to carry a particular weight or emphasis. defining : he is a poet who defines the company itself; without him it would be different. peers : these poets are equals. imagined The company of poets exists in Creeley's imagination. They might not have ever been in the same room together, but they form a group in Creeley's mind. company = cum = panis. People with whom you break bread. Constrast this with "one of our greatest poets." -- H. Bloom. Creeley's is a much more personal statement.
***
One question missing from those below is how to deal with rejection. That seems inherent in the process of seeking publication. My own feeling, coming back to the process after many years of not seeking publication at all, is that I have to view any editor I submit to as fully competent to judge the needs of his / her own magazine. This does not mean the editor is competent to judge the value of my poetry outside of that context of publication, but simply that "la loca en su casa sabe más que la cuerda en casa ajena." [the madwoman in her own house knows more than the sane woman in someone else's house]. So you can't go back to the editor and say, "Why did you publish HIM instead of me?!" Even when you know you are better than HIM, you have to let the editor make his or her own "mistakes." Your poems simply haven't convinced the editor. I have submitted to some journals I don't anticipate would be that sympathetic to my work, just to see if I have "crossover appeal." (I don't so far, but you never know!)
That's a blurb for Ronald Johnson, written by Creeley. It might seem rather ordinary, as though he could have written it about anybody, but to me it is quite striking. Every word seems to carry a particular weight or emphasis. defining : he is a poet who defines the company itself; without him it would be different. peers : these poets are equals. imagined The company of poets exists in Creeley's imagination. They might not have ever been in the same room together, but they form a group in Creeley's mind. company = cum = panis. People with whom you break bread. Constrast this with "one of our greatest poets." -- H. Bloom. Creeley's is a much more personal statement.
***
One question missing from those below is how to deal with rejection. That seems inherent in the process of seeking publication. My own feeling, coming back to the process after many years of not seeking publication at all, is that I have to view any editor I submit to as fully competent to judge the needs of his / her own magazine. This does not mean the editor is competent to judge the value of my poetry outside of that context of publication, but simply that "la loca en su casa sabe más que la cuerda en casa ajena." [the madwoman in her own house knows more than the sane woman in someone else's house]. So you can't go back to the editor and say, "Why did you publish HIM instead of me?!" Even when you know you are better than HIM, you have to let the editor make his or her own "mistakes." Your poems simply haven't convinced the editor. I have submitted to some journals I don't anticipate would be that sympathetic to my work, just to see if I have "crossover appeal." (I don't so far, but you never know!)
At the risk of prolonging the meme or vogue of questionaires, I feel I must answer Radical Druids questions. After all, they have my name on them.
1. Do you write with the intent of submitting (and getting published)? Is that your primary objective in writing poetry (publishing to print media, or online journals, or other outlets [i.e., contests, prizes, etc.])?
I write with the intent on being published, but I don't necessarily write "for publication." Sometimes, though, I let the occasion of being asked for a poem generate the poem itself. For example, Tom Beckett was soliciting poems on "textual improprieties" and I wrote a poem to order called "Textual Proprieties." Gabe Gudding asked me for a poem for Spoon River Poetry Journal so I wrote a poem entitled "Spoon River Anthology," riffing on the E.A Masters theme. David Shapiro commissioned a poem from me on my Mormon background, and I wrote it, publishing the first section in the Hat. I like Spicer's idea in the book of magazine verse to write poems specifically for journals.
2. If submittal/publishing is not your primary objective, is there another outlet (regular public poetry readings, religious liturgy, slams, literary cameraderie/competition) for which you tend to write?
Publishing is not the objective. These are outlets, media, not reasons for writing.
3. Do you write poetry for other reasons (i.e., personal confessional, celebration of special events, academic requirement, etc.)? How much of what you write is for these "personal" uses, as opposed to ultimately for "audience" consumption?
That's a false dichotomy. The reason you write is always personal, but you still want what you write to reach an audience.
4. In any case, what percentage of your "audience" is other poets, versus non-poets?
Probably nearly 100% poets, but that is partly because I am an extremely unknown poet. I've never published a book of poetry, for example.
5. As relates to audience, what is the level at which you seek to connect with them (i.e., artistic, intellectual, emotional, political, spiritual, etc.), once you have them identified? Does "connecting" to your audience even matter?
These aren't really separate "levels." If there is no connection there is no audience. I like Creeley's idea of a "company" of poets.
6. As you explore those different aspects of yourself through your poetry, does that change your audience, make it larger or smaller, alienate it, etc.?
The audience is going to be small for the foreseeable future. I do have a very high quality audience for my poetry, though. Alienating my miniscule audience would be interesting.
7. What percentage of the "audience" for your poetry would you consider your friends or even acquaintances, if any?
I eventually end up making friends with all my readers. See answer to question 4.
8. In terms of well-crafted, do you think that craft (that is, skill of the poet in whatever genre or form they have chosen) is typically the criteria used in determining what is or is not published in the above? Or is it more likely to be what is considered "good" poetry by academia and its associated publishing press?
It depends what you mean by craft; I've always had problems with that word. What is considered good poetry in academia (but what part of academia; I am an academic myself?) does reflect a certain idea of "craft," which usually means conformity to a period style. I can see a more "skilled" poem being rejected in favor of an (apparently) less skilled one. When we say a poem is well crafted how is that different from simply saying that it is a good poem?
9. What is more important to you as a poet, assuming that you can only pick at most two of the following: that you be widely read, widely known, widely admired, widely quoted, or well-paid?
Obviously if you're known, your'e also read. You can't be widely quoted without being first well-known. I would like to be considered an indispensable part of the "company" of a poet whose work I admired. Giving that word "company" the inflection that it has in Creeley's work.
1. Do you write with the intent of submitting (and getting published)? Is that your primary objective in writing poetry (publishing to print media, or online journals, or other outlets [i.e., contests, prizes, etc.])?
I write with the intent on being published, but I don't necessarily write "for publication." Sometimes, though, I let the occasion of being asked for a poem generate the poem itself. For example, Tom Beckett was soliciting poems on "textual improprieties" and I wrote a poem to order called "Textual Proprieties." Gabe Gudding asked me for a poem for Spoon River Poetry Journal so I wrote a poem entitled "Spoon River Anthology," riffing on the E.A Masters theme. David Shapiro commissioned a poem from me on my Mormon background, and I wrote it, publishing the first section in the Hat. I like Spicer's idea in the book of magazine verse to write poems specifically for journals.
2. If submittal/publishing is not your primary objective, is there another outlet (regular public poetry readings, religious liturgy, slams, literary cameraderie/competition) for which you tend to write?
Publishing is not the objective. These are outlets, media, not reasons for writing.
3. Do you write poetry for other reasons (i.e., personal confessional, celebration of special events, academic requirement, etc.)? How much of what you write is for these "personal" uses, as opposed to ultimately for "audience" consumption?
That's a false dichotomy. The reason you write is always personal, but you still want what you write to reach an audience.
4. In any case, what percentage of your "audience" is other poets, versus non-poets?
Probably nearly 100% poets, but that is partly because I am an extremely unknown poet. I've never published a book of poetry, for example.
5. As relates to audience, what is the level at which you seek to connect with them (i.e., artistic, intellectual, emotional, political, spiritual, etc.), once you have them identified? Does "connecting" to your audience even matter?
These aren't really separate "levels." If there is no connection there is no audience. I like Creeley's idea of a "company" of poets.
6. As you explore those different aspects of yourself through your poetry, does that change your audience, make it larger or smaller, alienate it, etc.?
The audience is going to be small for the foreseeable future. I do have a very high quality audience for my poetry, though. Alienating my miniscule audience would be interesting.
7. What percentage of the "audience" for your poetry would you consider your friends or even acquaintances, if any?
I eventually end up making friends with all my readers. See answer to question 4.
8. In terms of well-crafted, do you think that craft (that is, skill of the poet in whatever genre or form they have chosen) is typically the criteria used in determining what is or is not published in the above? Or is it more likely to be what is considered "good" poetry by academia and its associated publishing press?
It depends what you mean by craft; I've always had problems with that word. What is considered good poetry in academia (but what part of academia; I am an academic myself?) does reflect a certain idea of "craft," which usually means conformity to a period style. I can see a more "skilled" poem being rejected in favor of an (apparently) less skilled one. When we say a poem is well crafted how is that different from simply saying that it is a good poem?
9. What is more important to you as a poet, assuming that you can only pick at most two of the following: that you be widely read, widely known, widely admired, widely quoted, or well-paid?
Obviously if you're known, your'e also read. You can't be widely quoted without being first well-known. I would like to be considered an indispensable part of the "company" of a poet whose work I admired. Giving that word "company" the inflection that it has in Creeley's work.
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