I would like to test (or apply) some of the thinking of purposive writing onto a specific text for no better reason than to see if it works or fits. Way back in the day, people (including poets and critics) felt confident expressing clear, coherent statements about the purpose of poetry. Thus we arrive at "to teach, to move, [and/or] to delight." I mused a moment ago about how this kind of statement, which was meant to establish the ideal for all of poetry, might relate to contemporary writing. Well, as chance would have it, I've been reading some of the very kind this very day: Monty Reid's new chapbook Sweetheart of Mine (BookThug). Here's one from the set:
[If you are Monty Reid and would like me to remove this poem, please just say the word. It is, as it is, posted here without permission.]
With thanks to Mark, I won't comment on the artsy line-breaks nor the (oh oh obvious) theme of "man versus nature" in the poem. What I did want to mention is the use of allusion in it; specifically, to the traditional song of the same name. Now, most of the poems in the little collection are also direct responses to songs. I caught some of them, but didn't recognize an equal number. In case you did not pick up the specific references, though, Reid thematizes it for you and includes 10 poems that explicitly allude to songs (the word "song" itself is repeated 7 times in 26 poems). This heavy repetition of a theme (a conceit!) effectively divides the poems in two directions: to the music they reference, and to the poems they are. Allusion, here, thus opens the whole project up into an ironic space. If it were paintings, it would be ekphrasis, but it's (American) music so I don't know what the term is.
I would argue that the allusions are meant to be a delight -- they give pleasure in recognition, they give even more in their twist and corruption of the original source. Parody, pastiche, irony, satire, and other kinds of humour could all be read into these little poems. In fact, they keep themselves open enough that it could be argued they do little more than invoke the allusion, without attempting to interrogate or destablize it.
The poem above, for instance, seems to use the same voice as the narrator of the traditional song (which is your standard lament of a cuckold). Reid adapts the old work for a new medium, and adds to the original with the additional gloss that, to a great extent, 'outspeaks' the original, daft narrator of the song. The haunted quality of the last four lines (and, perhaps, that allude to Eliot) heightens the outright expression of emotion of the original song, but that emotion is already in the original ("I'd rather be in some dark hollow, where the sun don't ever shine, than to see you another man's darling, would cause me to lose my mind").
Okay, fine, I confess that the segue at the start was really my attempt to connect the two discussions, and I wanted to talk about Reid's new book (which is, as usual, a beautiful BookThug object). Here I am though, having done a reading of the poem, reaching toward a conclusion that could very easily meet the well-discussed aphorism, and I find that I don't want to talk about the "purpose" of the poem. I don't want to understand how this little poem attempts to either teach, move, or delight -- though I am interested in the kind of teaching, movement, and delights it has to offer. It is a fine line between the two, and I don't have a good solution for or explanation of the difference. I suppose you could say that I am not interested in the closed utility of the poem, but definitely interested in its shifting, possible, and provocative usefulness. I want to read Reid's poem, hear the rhythm and intonation of the traditional song in the background, and carry on to the next poem, "Every Time You Say Goodbye."
Another facet of Reid's collection: there are 26 poems, whose titles follow an abcedarian pattern (Dark Hollow is, thus, #4 in the sequence). Besides, perhaps, a thin reference to the alphabet song, I can't make out why the poem is structured thus. It seems like a random and incidental structuring device, unless I'm missing something.
Dark Hollow
another man's darling
and the stories
are all about
where you have been seen
the where
of it
the hollow of it
overflowing
[If you are Monty Reid and would like me to remove this poem, please just say the word. It is, as it is, posted here without permission.]
With thanks to Mark, I won't comment on the artsy line-breaks nor the (oh oh obvious) theme of "man versus nature" in the poem. What I did want to mention is the use of allusion in it; specifically, to the traditional song of the same name. Now, most of the poems in the little collection are also direct responses to songs. I caught some of them, but didn't recognize an equal number. In case you did not pick up the specific references, though, Reid thematizes it for you and includes 10 poems that explicitly allude to songs (the word "song" itself is repeated 7 times in 26 poems). This heavy repetition of a theme (a conceit!) effectively divides the poems in two directions: to the music they reference, and to the poems they are. Allusion, here, thus opens the whole project up into an ironic space. If it were paintings, it would be ekphrasis, but it's (American) music so I don't know what the term is.
I would argue that the allusions are meant to be a delight -- they give pleasure in recognition, they give even more in their twist and corruption of the original source. Parody, pastiche, irony, satire, and other kinds of humour could all be read into these little poems. In fact, they keep themselves open enough that it could be argued they do little more than invoke the allusion, without attempting to interrogate or destablize it.
The poem above, for instance, seems to use the same voice as the narrator of the traditional song (which is your standard lament of a cuckold). Reid adapts the old work for a new medium, and adds to the original with the additional gloss that, to a great extent, 'outspeaks' the original, daft narrator of the song. The haunted quality of the last four lines (and, perhaps, that allude to Eliot) heightens the outright expression of emotion of the original song, but that emotion is already in the original ("I'd rather be in some dark hollow, where the sun don't ever shine, than to see you another man's darling, would cause me to lose my mind").
Okay, fine, I confess that the segue at the start was really my attempt to connect the two discussions, and I wanted to talk about Reid's new book (which is, as usual, a beautiful BookThug object). Here I am though, having done a reading of the poem, reaching toward a conclusion that could very easily meet the well-discussed aphorism, and I find that I don't want to talk about the "purpose" of the poem. I don't want to understand how this little poem attempts to either teach, move, or delight -- though I am interested in the kind of teaching, movement, and delights it has to offer. It is a fine line between the two, and I don't have a good solution for or explanation of the difference. I suppose you could say that I am not interested in the closed utility of the poem, but definitely interested in its shifting, possible, and provocative usefulness. I want to read Reid's poem, hear the rhythm and intonation of the traditional song in the background, and carry on to the next poem, "Every Time You Say Goodbye."
Another facet of Reid's collection: there are 26 poems, whose titles follow an abcedarian pattern (Dark Hollow is, thus, #4 in the sequence). Besides, perhaps, a thin reference to the alphabet song, I can't make out why the poem is structured thus. It seems like a random and incidental structuring device, unless I'm missing something.
posted by functional nomad at 11:21 PM
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