Consider: What are negative poetry reviews?

Reading this article in the Huffington Post about “negative” poetry reviews being problematic, this excerpt intrigued me:

In terms of ‘negative criticism’ (so called), I rarely see the use of it. If it is to dismiss a work of literature/art as unvaluable/irrelevant, don’t we already do this by not attending it, or by not investing our desires and passions in it? It is so much work just to understand poetry/art (for works of art and poetry to become legible to one’s self) I have never understood why people would want to waste their energy on what does not interest them (what, that is, they do not love or desire).

Is this true? I don’t see the motive of critique as centered on discarding work as irrelevant, but, rather, making an effort at making it more relevant, or effective. Me thinking a poem could be better than what it is, and expressing that belief to the poet or reading audience, is not a waste of time. I see it as a responsibility on my part as a writer to open dialogue with all poets and writers about their work. This is not wasteful.

I’ve never seen criticism as negative or positive. It is what it is. It’s about what the text does. If it works, it works, and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. How is that positive or negative? It’s an analysis of language. So it’s not an attack on someone. It’s words talking about words.

And this:

Donovan sees a poet-critics job as to, first, “do no harm,” and then, in a sense, to work out of love.

Then this is stupid. Sorry. I’m not talking to the poet, but about the poem. What ever happened to the notion of the poet being distinct from the person? And writers, to grow, I think should assess this separation within themselves if critique hurts their feelings.

You can read the full article here.

Pop Literary: Which author’s life would you like to see adapted onto the big screen?

So Clive Owen (Derailed, that was such an awesome movie, I still can’t believe Aniston *SPOILER* played him like that!)  is set to play Ernest Hemingway in a movie that follows his relationship with his third wife, writer Martha Gellhorn. You can read the article here.

Is there a literary figure whose life you’d like to see brought on the big screen? Who would play that figure?

Consider: Creativity and Mentality

A while ago, I started a poll on the old blog asking if readers thought there was a connection between mental illness and creativity. 100% of the votes answered yes.

I thought I had a leg to stand on when writing up my response to the poll. But, as I began writing, I had difficulty developing a workable definition for mental illness, and kept finding myself pestered with the question: What is an untroubled mind? Isn’t the mind an affliction, anyway, that must be overcome for inner peace? The human mind is naturally problematic. So, if that’s the case, isn’t “mental illness” stating what is implied? So maybe the better question could have been: Do you see a connection between mentality and creativity?

What is a mad artist? Maybe one who’s let his mentality rule.

So creating iconic constructions of the troubled or mad artist is a lazy approach to obtaining and evaluating information. The troubled artist, the troubled author, the troubled poet…I seriously think that sometimes artists consciously will themselves to madness simply because it’s part of the packaging of the artist.

Does poetry emanate from mentality? What does mentality have to do with creativity?

Super Cool: Meeting Natasha Trethewey

I was humbled to attend a reading by my favorite poet, Natasha Trethewey, last week in Berkeley (not even the protesters, construction work, and an hour and a half of driving in circles with my Garmin were going to keep this from happening – thirty minutes late and all!)

I can say I was struck, simply, by the surreal nature of being at this event, something I tried to communicate to Ms. Trethewey after the reading, but was left repeating the phrases “I’m speechless, I’m humbled, I’m appreciative.” It’s very difficult to communicate with a poet (or anyone) an encapsulation – in a matter of seconds and without preparation – just how remarkable you think that poet’s work is. So one of the first things I said to her after the reading, and with duly noted hesitation, was “You’re my favorite poet,” despite telling myself that would be such a corny statement to make and figuring this revelation would probably stymie any further conversation of substance. Of course I wanted to blabber about why she was my favorite poet and express to her the extent of my admiration of her work, but instead found myself just telling her that, basically, I couldn’t speak because of the humility and gratitude I had for meeting her. A two and a half hour journey to say a simple thing: This little poet from Sacramento, California (I don’t think she knew were Sacramento was) is appreciative of her work. (I must’ve actually said this about three times, followed by “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe I’m here!”). This was the most honest utterance I could muster. Now that I think about it, I reckon the truest way I can communicate my admiration for her work is to continue to tell others about it, not her. I feel better now!

As for the reading, she seemed to be a kind of reserved reader, not making much eye contact with the audience (or maybe I missed all of the eye contact being a half hour late!). She seemed to be in her own zone when reading and speaking between her poems. I wonder, does frequently looking at the audience during a reading reduce one’s poetry to spectacle or episodic entertainment? Maybe something sacred and meaningful is lost in the performance of reading poems to a group of spectators. When I read, I close my eyes (yes, I close my eyes when I read my poetry!), because I liken the entire experience to prayer. Poetry is a promise of thanksgiving, and my reading is an offering. I guess that as audience members, we are only witnesses, like people sitting in pews at church as they watch the wedding to say “Yes, that happened.”

Consider: Creative Context

I came across an interesting piece on a new work entitled “The Secret Life of Emily Dickinson,” a novel imagining the life of the poet. This part of the review ingrigued me:

Whether they’re true or not, myths and legends that surround poets help us to see their work in a comprehensible context. Say the names Keats, Poe or Plath, for instance, and images of consumption, drug addiction and mental illness may come to mind, just as the image of 19th century poet Emily Dickinson as an eccentric recluse has persisted largely based on her poetry and a few scraps of biographical information.

I made a post recently about creativity and mentality, and expressed my indictments against the romanticization of madness, i.e. I don’t want to know that so and so was mentally unstable (though that phrasing, to me, is redundant) in an attempt to strengthen the mystique of a work. Yet, the statement above is interesting. Is, what may seem like peripheral information about the poet, useful as a way of making a poem’s meaning more discernable to a reader, a way to make a work more penetrable?

You can read the entire article here.

On My Shelf: We’re Getting On

Thanks to the July/August 2010 issue of Poets & Writers magazine, a couple of days ago I bought a copy of a book entitled “We’re Getting On” – about people who attempt to withdraw from a technologically-obssessed world into a more nature-driven experience – by a young author named James Kaelan.

I decided to buy the book for two basic reasons:

1. Poets & Writers featured an excerpt from the novel, and I really enjoyed how casual, unobtrusive and readable Kaelan’s writing was.

2. The press that published the book is based in Sacramento! So I wanted to show some support to a local, independent press, as well as a young and upcoming author.

One thing that’s quite neat about Kaelen’s book, from a physical standpoint, is that it has spruce-tree seeds inside it!  (Try planting them!) The decision to include seeds in the construction of his book seems like a fitting choice for an author who seems most passionately concerned with environmental themes, such as will be demonstrated this summer:

Kalen’s novel is part of a larger environmental effort. From July to August, he will eco-tour along the coast as part of his  “Zero Emission Book Project.” As a part of his project, the 23-year old will travel on his bicycle  from Southern California to Vancouver, making various stops along the way to read excerpts from the book.

His stop in Sacramento will be July 20 at Pangaea. I won’t be able to make it, but perhaps Kaelan’s book and project may interest you enough to attend a reading.

Visit Flatmancrooked’s site for more. You can read more about, specifically, the tour here.