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“Church and State” (guest posted by Rauan Klassnik)
or “Michael Schiavo’s Negative Review of Matthew Dickman’s All-American Poem” (“The Anti-Whitman or Out of Many, Me, Me, Me: Matthew Dickman’s All American Poem.”)
[A guest post (hopefully the first of many) by Rauan Klassnik -ed.]
Michael Schiavo has written a very passionate and very negative review of Matthew Dickman and his poetry.
In the aftermath of his review Michael Schiavo has stated that he doesn’t “plan on doing negative reviews, especially of this intensity, often. But (he) will do so when necessary. And this was necessary. Big picture.”
Michael has also since written that Dickman’s poetry is not even worthy of being called “shit.”
“To even describe these poems as shit is to assign value to them. Shit is the root of things, rids the body of toxins while building up the natural world that surrounds us. It’s part of nature, part of a process that has meaning and power behind it. It’s disconcerting to hold in your hand something that rightly shouldn’t exist.”
Some people aren’t too excited about negative reviews. But I’m all for them. As Benjamin Button (in one of the most boring movies ever) says, walking towards Daisy and consummation: Absolutely!
We absolutely need negative reviews. Absolutely! Absolutely! Absolutely!
I mean, c’mon, who doesn’t want to walk towards, embrace and climb into bed and make love to Daisy (Cate Blanchett)?
So, it’s agreed: we need negative reviews.
But, seriously now, the negative review should be fair also. Smart. Well thought out. And it should not, as it exposes shit, be full of it too. (And when I say “shit” here I mean the bad kind. The toxic kind.)
Schiavo’s negative review is to a certain extent successful, but, unfortunately, it is also, at its heart, prescriptive, fanatical, and self-righteous. It is, at its heart, full of shit.
Schiavo begins his review by stating that the
“Phenomenon of the Dickman twins, Matthew and Michael, and specifically Matthew’s first book, All-American Poem, is too powerful to ignore. The collection is so very bad and the method by which the Dickmans have foisted themselves upon the American poetry establishment——and, in turn, by which the poetry establishment has foisted them upon the American public——should be looked at closely.”
Okay, fair enough so far. Schiavo is calling bullshit. And good for him. I want people to call bullshit. And, as Schiavo himself is saying, we need people to do it.
Schiavo then walks us through (in prose peppered with some clever and entertaining phrases) how the Dickman twins have conned their way to the top. He also quotes long passages from All-American Poem and goes on at length about weak line breaks, weak syntax, selfishness, and childish superficiality.
So, in a way, so far so good. But Schiavo is not just writing a review to expose bad poetry. Schiavo is a man on a mission. A man full of opinions of what “rightly” should and should not exist. What we should and should not do. A man quick to climb up on a stage and lecture.
No, that’s no quite right. A man quick to climb up on to a soapbox and preach.
Here is Schiavo at his worst:
“If you’re brazen enough to put the word “America,” or any variation thereof in the title of your book or poem, you better bring to bear all the intelligence of spirit that the word evokes, whether to retrieve from ourselves the greatness of our nation or to point out its horrifying transgressions and correct them. This has always been true but it is exceptionally so in 2009, in the gathering darkness we face from within and without, when we now, more than ever, need to recognize ourselves and our abilities..”
This, in a word, is crazy.
It is prescriptive.
Threatening——“you better.”
Excessive and farcical——“in the gathering darkness”.
Deluded——“all the intelligence of spirit that the word evokes.”
And it smacks of a teenager who’s just discovered sex——“now, more than ever”——and can’t imagine that anything so incredible and special has ever happened to anyone else.
(The “sex” here is Schiavo standing up in the “gathering darkness…within and without” and spewing his dictums all over us.)
Fuck “America!” What the hell does any writer owe the word “America?” For that matter what does any tax-paying, law-abiding artist owe America?
That was Schiavo at his worst. (And me at my angriest.) Here’s Schiavo nearly at his worst:
“ ‘We can sit quietly on a blanket’ he writes in the title poem, ‘watching the transcendentalists come and go, talking / of Henry David Thoreau.’ He co-opts one of the most famous passages in English-language poetry (written by a British citizen), not to show his affection for one of the most well-known native philosophical movements in this country but to illustrate, as he repeatedly does throughout the title poem and others, how mysterious and far away his America is, how disconnected he and everyone else is from the nation. But instead of proposing alternatives or answers, paths by which we might reclaim the spirit, he abandons us. How does this lift up a people? How does this shatter the mold? How does this transform the soul?”
If you mention, besides its name, any of our country’s important events, symbols, movements, etc, etc, then Michael Schiavo expects you to “show (your) affection.” (Here to my mind comes the image of a dog licking its master’s feet.)
But why is it anyone’s duty to have to “lift up a people?” To “shatter the mold?” Or to “transform the soul?”
Or to propose “alternatives or answers?”
I’ve heard this maxim many times (you shouldn’t criticize if you don’t have an answer or alternative) but it’s just flat wrong.
There is plenty of bad poetry that criticizes and destroys without providing “alternatives or answers,” but just because it isn’t providing “alternatives or answers” doesn’t mean it isn’t or can’t be good or great even.
With Schiavo it’s all about betterment. But what about pleasure for its own sake? Decadence? Just rolling around in it? How about, even, auto-mutilation?
A Few More Thoughts and Observations
Here are some other things I’d planned to write at length about and may well do so later:
1) Walt Whitman.
Schiavo, in his blindness, gets Walt Whitman wrong. (Or at least chooses to present a very limited view.)
What we do get from Schiavo regarding Whitman is that he “contains multitudes that contradict” (a platitude repeated billions of time) and that he had “empathy” and “sympathy” for the people he walked among and in which he could “conjure…spiritual forces.”
Whitman, though, is also a monster, a liar, and a con-man. Throughout Leaves of Grass the great poet is, among other things, trying to gain your confidence. Win you over. And much of the time it’s with empty, vague promises.
Whitman plays to your fears. Reassures you. Puts his arm around you. Whispers in your ear. “There, there,” he says, and “just trust me.” And he licks into your ear.
Even though it would make for interesting and appropriate reading (especially since “con-man” is one of the charges brought so heavily against Matthew Dickman) Michael Schiavo is unable to conceive or talk of Walt Whitman (a kind of All-American high priest or even Jesus figure) in really complex and accurate terms.
Schiavo, to be fair though, does acknowledge the “confidence game” aspect of America. But he just doesn’t see it (or acknowledge it) in Whitman.
Whitman, for Schiavo, is a White Knight on a White Horse.
Schiavo, it would seem, sees himself in much the same way.
A White Knight come to inspire and transform and disabuse.
2) Christ Martin: Humane and Honest.
In the comments stream following Schiavo’s review Chris Martin (one of the poets Schiavo holds up as a counterpoint——one of the poets Schiavo says “have galloped into the frontier on their own, with only their native wit for a shield”), asks a question and then answers it:
“Why should we care if Dickman writes poems to get laid or score prizes? Because we care about poetry that does something to make the world a more honest, interesting or humane place.”
Poetry that makes the world a more honest and humane place?
Schiavo and Martin are demanding a socially correct sort of poetry,
and for them, it seems, other types of poetry shouldn’t “rightly” exist.
3) Misogyny
For some reason this is a particularly hot-button topic that sets Schiavo off.
I’m not saying that the Dickman passages quoted in Schiavo’s review reflect a utopian interplay of the male and female sexes (nor of course should they), but they certainly don’t warrant Schiavo’s heavy-handed and overstated charge of “misogyny.”
Schiavo would, I am sure, say that you can’t write misogynist poetry. But man-hating or woman-hating poetry can of course be good or great even.
4) Church and State
At an off-site reading at the most recent AWP (Chicago) Brenda Hillman exhorted the members of the audience to actively protest our country’s involvement in the Iraq War.
She talked about going into her Congressman’s office in D.C. And then she urged us all to do the same sort of thing. To get, like her, involved.
Good for you, Brenda. And include this sort of thing in your poetry if you want. (Though I’m not a fan of most political poetry I certainly won’t tell you what you can and can’t write about. Or how you should or should not do it.)
Talk to people at the bar about it. Talk to people at dinner afterwards. Stand up at a political rally and talk about it.
But using your position of poet and your opportunity on stage behind a microphone to foist it on us is just irresponsible.
There are a million worthy causes (starving kids in Africa, The AIDS epidemic, Ovarian Cancer Awareness, America the Beautiful, etc, etc.) and I don’t want, when I’m at a poetry reading, to be lobbied about any of them.
In the next room there was a pool table. I went in there, leaned against the wall, and watched them play.
Tags: matthew dickman, michael schiavo
I don’t know about this, Rauan… I feel pretty much the same way as you about political grandstanding in the poetry world, but I didn’t feel like this was an example. The reason I didn’t feel this was an example is because I think he’s basically right about the book he’s reviewing. Now, I’m not against anyone writing in any particular way or about any particular subject, or even writing bad poetry. But I do have a problem with bad poetry being held up as ‘good poetry’, and the main point of Schiavo’s review is to deflate the hype. I know that a bad poetry book probably won’t do any more harm in the world than a bad tv show, but then, like a bad tv show, it doesn’t really help either. I actually kinda care about how poetry is perceived by ‘the outside world’. No, it’s not the most important thing in life to be worried about, but neither is the fate of this season’s Cubs, which I also worry about, even knowing it’s not that big a deal.
I don’t know about this, Rauan… I feel pretty much the same way as you about political grandstanding in the poetry world, but I didn’t feel like this was an example. The reason I didn’t feel this was an example is because I think he’s basically right about the book he’s reviewing. Now, I’m not against anyone writing in any particular way or about any particular subject, or even writing bad poetry. But I do have a problem with bad poetry being held up as ‘good poetry’, and the main point of Schiavo’s review is to deflate the hype. I know that a bad poetry book probably won’t do any more harm in the world than a bad tv show, but then, like a bad tv show, it doesn’t really help either. I actually kinda care about how poetry is perceived by ‘the outside world’. No, it’s not the most important thing in life to be worried about, but neither is the fate of this season’s Cubs, which I also worry about, even knowing it’s not that big a deal.
Matt,
i think it’s clear from my post that i don’t much care whether or not “he’s basically right about the book he’s reviewing”
Matt,
i think it’s clear from my post that i don’t much care whether or not “he’s basically right about the book he’s reviewing”
This is good. More posts from Rauan.
This is good. More posts from Rauan.
Being prescriptive is crazy? What’s crazy about prescribing certain qualities of value? Maybe it’s unfashionable these days to suggest (or, in this guy’s case, assert) that fulfillment of certain criteria is necessary for people to assume they’ll enjoy a thing (be it a poem or a meal or a song), but if it’s crazy then there goes the entirety of criticism out the window.
Being prescriptive is crazy? What’s crazy about prescribing certain qualities of value? Maybe it’s unfashionable these days to suggest (or, in this guy’s case, assert) that fulfillment of certain criteria is necessary for people to assume they’ll enjoy a thing (be it a poem or a meal or a song), but if it’s crazy then there goes the entirety of criticism out the window.
Rauan, thanks for posting this. I think it’s important to push past the kind of first-grade thinking we so often get trapped in: are we for/against “negative” reviewing? etc. The implication seems to be that if you are “for” negative reviews, then when you find any kind of negative review you are supposed to be happy. But your point is really well-taken: just because we believe that real critical writing SHOULD exist, doesn’t mean we think every instance of it is an exemplary achievement in its field.
I think there’s an 1800-word review of the highest quality buried somewhere in the Schiavo piece. I think he’s got a great eye, several viable positions (like you, I’m wary of political/polemical literature, in the art itself or in the critique of it, but unlike you I don’t reject it completely), and he’s probably right. Problem is, in this as in everything else, being right isn’t enough. The misogyny charges are the most bizarre, and whether technically “right” or not, don’t really hold their own in the discussion. That whole thread has the stink of the honors undergraduate seminar about it.
In the end, I think what we’re seeing here is the value of a good editor–and what happens when you don’t have one. Of course personal blogs aren’t supposed to have editors, that’s sort of their whole point, but literary criticism is a much older form than the blog, and the elder form has always had a place for an editor to participate–trim down, reign in, veto, etc.
Schiavo should have run this thing by one of his own harshest and most trusted critics before releasing it out into the world. That said, I’d rather have it out there than not.
Rauan, thanks for posting this. I think it’s important to push past the kind of first-grade thinking we so often get trapped in: are we for/against “negative” reviewing? etc. The implication seems to be that if you are “for” negative reviews, then when you find any kind of negative review you are supposed to be happy. But your point is really well-taken: just because we believe that real critical writing SHOULD exist, doesn’t mean we think every instance of it is an exemplary achievement in its field.
I think there’s an 1800-word review of the highest quality buried somewhere in the Schiavo piece. I think he’s got a great eye, several viable positions (like you, I’m wary of political/polemical literature, in the art itself or in the critique of it, but unlike you I don’t reject it completely), and he’s probably right. Problem is, in this as in everything else, being right isn’t enough. The misogyny charges are the most bizarre, and whether technically “right” or not, don’t really hold their own in the discussion. That whole thread has the stink of the honors undergraduate seminar about it.
In the end, I think what we’re seeing here is the value of a good editor–and what happens when you don’t have one. Of course personal blogs aren’t supposed to have editors, that’s sort of their whole point, but literary criticism is a much older form than the blog, and the elder form has always had a place for an editor to participate–trim down, reign in, veto, etc.
Schiavo should have run this thing by one of his own harshest and most trusted critics before releasing it out into the world. That said, I’d rather have it out there than not.
I really liked this line.
“But man-hating or woman-hating poetry can of course be good or great even.”
This line intrigues me, but I think irresponsible could be replaced with something else, maybe “opportunsitic” and even then, I am on the fence about how we use our “power” if you can call it that.
“But using your position of poet and your opportunity on stage behind a microphone to foist it on us is just irresponsible.”
I really liked this line.
“But man-hating or woman-hating poetry can of course be good or great even.”
This line intrigues me, but I think irresponsible could be replaced with something else, maybe “opportunsitic” and even then, I am on the fence about how we use our “power” if you can call it that.
“But using your position of poet and your opportunity on stage behind a microphone to foist it on us is just irresponsible.”
yes, if you’d helped me edit this piece i would have changed Irresponsible to Opportunistic….. it is better,… (and now please excuse me— i’m going to beat on my brother who helped me with small edits,… and one big section… “come here you little monkey !!!”….. “eeeeek, eeeeek…..”)
yes, if you’d helped me edit this piece i would have changed Irresponsible to Opportunistic….. it is better,… (and now please excuse me— i’m going to beat on my brother who helped me with small edits,… and one big section… “come here you little monkey !!!”….. “eeeeek, eeeeek…..”)
Thanks ron, That’s a realy good peice. I would think with the lengths that Schiavo has gone to there would be some concrete engagement and self-awareness, but alas… “That whole thread has the stink of the honors undergraduate seminar about it”. To tell the truth, i’ve read more rigourous 1st year essays.
Negative reviews are nessessary, and on the surface I agree that the book needs to be spoken to, and the gender politics smell like Brett Easton Ellis. And rhetorical proscritivness has its place, but not in critical writing. This is how the various coteries of Modernist Academia (I’m thinking especially of my home counry of New Zealand here) persued their monocultural agenda by silencing the wrting of women, and others offering alternatives to their aesthtic paradigm.
“If you mention, besides its name, any of our country’s important events, symbols, movements, etc, etc, then Michael Schiavo expects you to “show (your) affection.” (Here to my mind comes the image of a dog licking its master’s feet.)”
Ginsberg’s “America”, Ferlingetti’s Dog Poem (that i can’t remember the name of right now).
I think political poetry has it’s place, but rather than a dictation of a polemical position, politics (or ethics even, I’m thinking of Steve McCaffery’s writing on the applications of Levinas’s ethical writings to poetic practice) should be demonstrated or perfomed within the work. A pertinant example of this being Bruce Andrews’ essay “Writing Social Work and Political Practice”, and its ramifications for his own work. That piece could be seen as a dogmatic diatribe, and is, for the most part, but knows that it is one pice of the ongoing conversation on “poetry and praxis”.
Ok so i think that’s me.
Thanks ron, That’s a realy good peice. I would think with the lengths that Schiavo has gone to there would be some concrete engagement and self-awareness, but alas… “That whole thread has the stink of the honors undergraduate seminar about it”. To tell the truth, i’ve read more rigourous 1st year essays.
Negative reviews are nessessary, and on the surface I agree that the book needs to be spoken to, and the gender politics smell like Brett Easton Ellis. And rhetorical proscritivness has its place, but not in critical writing. This is how the various coteries of Modernist Academia (I’m thinking especially of my home counry of New Zealand here) persued their monocultural agenda by silencing the wrting of women, and others offering alternatives to their aesthtic paradigm.
“If you mention, besides its name, any of our country’s important events, symbols, movements, etc, etc, then Michael Schiavo expects you to “show (your) affection.” (Here to my mind comes the image of a dog licking its master’s feet.)”
Ginsberg’s “America”, Ferlingetti’s Dog Poem (that i can’t remember the name of right now).
I think political poetry has it’s place, but rather than a dictation of a polemical position, politics (or ethics even, I’m thinking of Steve McCaffery’s writing on the applications of Levinas’s ethical writings to poetic practice) should be demonstrated or perfomed within the work. A pertinant example of this being Bruce Andrews’ essay “Writing Social Work and Political Practice”, and its ramifications for his own work. That piece could be seen as a dogmatic diatribe, and is, for the most part, but knows that it is one pice of the ongoing conversation on “poetry and praxis”.
Ok so i think that’s me.
ah, but now I notice you would have used a variation on opportune twice! And that would not be good. Anyway, you get my drift.
Really nice post.
ah, but now I notice you would have used a variation on opportune twice! And that would not be good. Anyway, you get my drift.
Really nice post.
What I’m most afraid of is not ill-considered negative reviews but ill-considered praise and adulation. In that sense I share Schiavo’s anger at not just the poetry but the dangerous praise it has been given.
Why dangerous? Who among us hasn’t wished that the world had fewer poet-lovers of John Ashbery?
It’s a familiar complaint, but I don’t know a single reader of poetry who doesn’t write it as well. Maybe I know the wrong people. Clearly I know the wrong people. But can you say that about the prolixity of readers of novels?
When something becomes too easy, it should get worried about its reputation.
Wait – was that misogyny?
What I’m most afraid of is not ill-considered negative reviews but ill-considered praise and adulation. In that sense I share Schiavo’s anger at not just the poetry but the dangerous praise it has been given.
Why dangerous? Who among us hasn’t wished that the world had fewer poet-lovers of John Ashbery?
It’s a familiar complaint, but I don’t know a single reader of poetry who doesn’t write it as well. Maybe I know the wrong people. Clearly I know the wrong people. But can you say that about the prolixity of readers of novels?
When something becomes too easy, it should get worried about its reputation.
Wait – was that misogyny?
I agree with that. It seems to me all criticism is prescribing the critic’s aesthetic. How do you avoid implicitly prescribing and still have an opinion? You could pepper the text with “Well, I feel X, but it’s only my opinion, my reaction, my taste…” ? Isn’t that just implied in all critiques? Maybe I’m wrong here – Rauan might perhaps enlighten us.
I agree with that. It seems to me all criticism is prescribing the critic’s aesthetic. How do you avoid implicitly prescribing and still have an opinion? You could pepper the text with “Well, I feel X, but it’s only my opinion, my reaction, my taste…” ? Isn’t that just implied in all critiques? Maybe I’m wrong here – Rauan might perhaps enlighten us.
The great thing about living in a small city like Christchurch, NZ, is that the artistic community is fluid. Artists in all disciplines mix together, and we have poets listening to sound-art and writing on painting, curators and sculptors reading poetry and attending readings, etc etc. This should happen more often, adn everywhere. I gain a lot from talking to artists who work in different media, and often end up applying alien theories/practices to my own work, to its (I hope) betterment. I think overall such an environment is beneficial to all involved; I’m thinking of precedents (the like of which i could only dream of being involved with, i might add) in the generic crossovers of Zurich Dada, The so-called “Lost Generation” in paris, New York in the 50s-60s etc.
Furthermore, I totally agree with the above statement that what is most worrying “is not ill-considered negative reviews but ill-considered praise and adulation”. All communities of artistic production have problems with incestuous back-patting. Honest feedback, criticism and like are neccesary to keep everyone on there toes and working at their best. I recently read a review of a concert ( http://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/music/gig-reviews/2263966/Homegrown-sounds-off#comments ) where the critic was honest, and a large number of people went to the trouble of posting feedback saying that he was “a knob”, or asking “Why send a […] hater to review [said gig]?”. it seems the public’s expectations, probably fueled by fan-blogs, is that criticism should be no more than a raging fanboy ranting about how x was the best [insert genre] ever.
The great thing about living in a small city like Christchurch, NZ, is that the artistic community is fluid. Artists in all disciplines mix together, and we have poets listening to sound-art and writing on painting, curators and sculptors reading poetry and attending readings, etc etc. This should happen more often, adn everywhere. I gain a lot from talking to artists who work in different media, and often end up applying alien theories/practices to my own work, to its (I hope) betterment. I think overall such an environment is beneficial to all involved; I’m thinking of precedents (the like of which i could only dream of being involved with, i might add) in the generic crossovers of Zurich Dada, The so-called “Lost Generation” in paris, New York in the 50s-60s etc.
Furthermore, I totally agree with the above statement that what is most worrying “is not ill-considered negative reviews but ill-considered praise and adulation”. All communities of artistic production have problems with incestuous back-patting. Honest feedback, criticism and like are neccesary to keep everyone on there toes and working at their best. I recently read a review of a concert ( http://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/music/gig-reviews/2263966/Homegrown-sounds-off#comments ) where the critic was honest, and a large number of people went to the trouble of posting feedback saying that he was “a knob”, or asking “Why send a […] hater to review [said gig]?”. it seems the public’s expectations, probably fueled by fan-blogs, is that criticism should be no more than a raging fanboy ranting about how x was the best [insert genre] ever.
Thanks for your critique of my critique. Of course, we’re veering very far off the point if we have a critique of your critique of my critique. Then we’re just talking in a room of mirrors.
But all this — the anonymous personal attacks on my blog and now your public critique of my essay — which I appreciate you putting your name on and putting out there — still avoids the elephant: you say nothing of Matthew Dickman’s work. What did you think of the book?
Thanks for your critique of my critique. Of course, we’re veering very far off the point if we have a critique of your critique of my critique. Then we’re just talking in a room of mirrors.
But all this — the anonymous personal attacks on my blog and now your public critique of my essay — which I appreciate you putting your name on and putting out there — still avoids the elephant: you say nothing of Matthew Dickman’s work. What did you think of the book?
First of all, let it be known that however much I resembled some people’s lord and savior during my long-haired hippie days, Christ is not my given name. Secondly, I think it is VERY important that we know how Rauan feels, in a critical sense, about Dickman’s work. This is clearly related to how he misapprehended my comment on Michael’s essay. If you don’t CARE about the work, except to defend it’s philosophical right to be appreciated with a concision and correctness of your own making, then you’ve sunk into the mire of intelligent talk. I was not in any way prescribing a “should” for poetry, but I was prescribing a “should” for appreciating poetry. I’m glad Dickman’s work is in the world and I’m ecstatic that Michael took the time to care about it.
First of all, let it be known that however much I resembled some people’s lord and savior during my long-haired hippie days, Christ is not my given name. Secondly, I think it is VERY important that we know how Rauan feels, in a critical sense, about Dickman’s work. This is clearly related to how he misapprehended my comment on Michael’s essay. If you don’t CARE about the work, except to defend it’s philosophical right to be appreciated with a concision and correctness of your own making, then you’ve sunk into the mire of intelligent talk. I was not in any way prescribing a “should” for poetry, but I was prescribing a “should” for appreciating poetry. I’m glad Dickman’s work is in the world and I’m ecstatic that Michael took the time to care about it.
Michael,
Thanks for your comment.
And I agree with you regarding anonymous posters. (Cowards!)
I can’t say anything about Dickman’s book because, as you might have guessed, I haven’t read it.
But, really, with respect to what I’ve written about your review whatever I think or do not think of Dickman and/or his work is besides the point
Rauan (Ron)
Michael,
Thanks for your comment.
And I agree with you regarding anonymous posters. (Cowards!)
I can’t say anything about Dickman’s book because, as you might have guessed, I haven’t read it.
But, really, with respect to what I’ve written about your review whatever I think or do not think of Dickman and/or his work is besides the point
Rauan (Ron)
Chris,
I am sorry for misspelling your name.
And i’m also glad that Michael took the time to care about Dickman’s work. I’m just not happy with the review he wrote. For particulars regarding that I would refer you back to what I’ve already written.
Rauan (Ron)
Chris,
I am sorry for misspelling your name.
And i’m also glad that Michael took the time to care about Dickman’s work. I’m just not happy with the review he wrote. For particulars regarding that I would refer you back to what I’ve already written.
Rauan (Ron)
Another tempest in a teapot. Next…
Another tempest in a teapot. Next…
I was amused, Rauan, to see that you most disliked the paragraph that I most disliked. I quoted much of it in my own response to Michael Schiavo’s review, appending an “Oh!” Coinkydentally, when I read that statement by Schiavo on the right way to address America, I was (& still am) working on a long poem addressed to America (“O America, you bullshit artist!”) that is doing what it wants — and whether it wants to “retrieve from ourselves the greatness of our nation or to point out its horrifying transgressions and correct them” is something I haven’t yet figured out, but it does seem unlikely.
Still, good for Schiavo, stirring up some excitement. I had an argument at my book blog, Dare I Read, with the author of a book. I hadn’t known, writing my blog post, that I was writing to the author, but he must have had a google alert for his name — and there he was! I learned some interesting things from the author, yet we didn’t see eye to eye. I get very few comments on my blogs. Sometimes half the people who show up to read are people I’ve mentioned; then, I suspect, they never come back.
I was amused, Rauan, to see that you most disliked the paragraph that I most disliked. I quoted much of it in my own response to Michael Schiavo’s review, appending an “Oh!” Coinkydentally, when I read that statement by Schiavo on the right way to address America, I was (& still am) working on a long poem addressed to America (“O America, you bullshit artist!”) that is doing what it wants — and whether it wants to “retrieve from ourselves the greatness of our nation or to point out its horrifying transgressions and correct them” is something I haven’t yet figured out, but it does seem unlikely.
Still, good for Schiavo, stirring up some excitement. I had an argument at my book blog, Dare I Read, with the author of a book. I hadn’t known, writing my blog post, that I was writing to the author, but he must have had a google alert for his name — and there he was! I learned some interesting things from the author, yet we didn’t see eye to eye. I get very few comments on my blogs. Sometimes half the people who show up to read are people I’ve mentioned; then, I suspect, they never come back.
That’s IT. I’m writing a review of this review.
That’s IT. I’m writing a review of this review.
Once poetry’s makers charge into the political (or gender or school or movement) bull-ring, it no longer merits the name, “poetry.” Let’s call a spade a shovel and heap upon it the same kind of id-fit snit-fits on display in the above-cited works or, IOW, let us bravely say what such specious agendas engender: Propaganda.
On its own ostensibly persuasive terms, propaganda already proliferates in the twenty-worst century without the need for such messengers to co-opt the medium for questionable messages of mass deception (and, the causes for this atrocity, myriad as myth itself, in no way mitigate nor justifiy the unjustifiable). A poem fails when either form or content eradicates half its essential balancing act, its raison d’etre, so to speak.
Thanks for bringing this to readers’ attention; perhaps you’ve prevented one poet from committing yet another glerror in the name of “poetry,” in the name of what Eliot, damned near a century ago, affirmed: “The rest is not our business.”
That’s the melodramarama sop-op egregiosity; sadly, that conscription happens so much too often it’s now taken as part of the art’s “status quota” given. Dregma, dulliciously driven. Quel fromage. (Send in the clone drones.)
—
In Other Words:
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/blogs/Booksblog/
Once poetry’s makers charge into the political (or gender or school or movement) bull-ring, it no longer merits the name, “poetry.” Let’s call a spade a shovel and heap upon it the same kind of id-fit snit-fits on display in the above-cited works or, IOW, let us bravely say what such specious agendas engender: Propaganda.
On its own ostensibly persuasive terms, propaganda already proliferates in the twenty-worst century without the need for such messengers to co-opt the medium for questionable messages of mass deception (and, the causes for this atrocity, myriad as myth itself, in no way mitigate nor justifiy the unjustifiable). A poem fails when either form or content eradicates half its essential balancing act, its raison d’etre, so to speak.
Thanks for bringing this to readers’ attention; perhaps you’ve prevented one poet from committing yet another glerror in the name of “poetry,” in the name of what Eliot, damned near a century ago, affirmed: “The rest is not our business.”
That’s the melodramarama sop-op egregiosity; sadly, that conscription happens so much too often it’s now taken as part of the art’s “status quota” given. Dregma, dulliciously driven. Quel fromage. (Send in the clone drones.)
—
In Other Words:
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/blogs/Booksblog/
I know I’m entering the conversation a bit late here, but I just had to add my two cents regarding the final section of your post. You describe Hillman as “using [her] position of poet and [her] opportunity on stage behind a microphone to foist [political action in opposition to the Iraq War]”, and you call this choice “just irresponsible.” I have to disagree with you here, especially with your use of the word irresponsible. What would be irresponsible would be to ignore an opportunity to call attention to a tragic situation and urge those gathered to act out against it. When any of us has an opportunity to speak out against pain and suffering in an attempt to affect change, we should take it. It is absolutely our responsibility to take advantage of our freedom speech in order to better our world and its people. To let cowardice–or the fear that an audience might find the experience irritating–keep us from doing so, is the truly irresponsible choice.
You go on to explain that you “don’t want, when [you’re] at a poetry reading, to be lobbied about any of [these worthy causes]. I agree that it can be an unpleasant experience to hear politically motivated speech at an event or venue where it is unexpected. But I also believe that this has mostly to do with our own shame and cowardice: we don’t want to be reminded that outside the pleasant circle of a poetry reading, there are bad things happening and that we have a hand in them. We are also sometimes even embarrassed for the poet and her bald sincerity. This makes us uncomfortable as well. I think I understand why you left Hillman’s pleas for action to go and watch pool being played in the other room–I would have undoubtedly had the same instinct. However, I urge you to fight it next time.
I know I’m entering the conversation a bit late here, but I just had to add my two cents regarding the final section of your post. You describe Hillman as “using [her] position of poet and [her] opportunity on stage behind a microphone to foist [political action in opposition to the Iraq War]”, and you call this choice “just irresponsible.” I have to disagree with you here, especially with your use of the word irresponsible. What would be irresponsible would be to ignore an opportunity to call attention to a tragic situation and urge those gathered to act out against it. When any of us has an opportunity to speak out against pain and suffering in an attempt to affect change, we should take it. It is absolutely our responsibility to take advantage of our freedom speech in order to better our world and its people. To let cowardice–or the fear that an audience might find the experience irritating–keep us from doing so, is the truly irresponsible choice.
You go on to explain that you “don’t want, when [you’re] at a poetry reading, to be lobbied about any of [these worthy causes]. I agree that it can be an unpleasant experience to hear politically motivated speech at an event or venue where it is unexpected. But I also believe that this has mostly to do with our own shame and cowardice: we don’t want to be reminded that outside the pleasant circle of a poetry reading, there are bad things happening and that we have a hand in them. We are also sometimes even embarrassed for the poet and her bald sincerity. This makes us uncomfortable as well. I think I understand why you left Hillman’s pleas for action to go and watch pool being played in the other room–I would have undoubtedly had the same instinct. However, I urge you to fight it next time.
Don’t kid yourself Rauan. Michael does not care about the Dickman’s work. Jealous yes, like a school boy who didn’t win. The rantings I do not think even qualify as a literary review. If you want to read real reviews try the Boston Review or someplace where they know what they are talking about and not just whining. Or what established poets have said about Dickman’s work. Schiavo is boring at best and seems to have the emotional stability of a 12 year old.
Don’t kid yourself Rauan. Michael does not care about the Dickman’s work. Jealous yes, like a school boy who didn’t win. The rantings I do not think even qualify as a literary review. If you want to read real reviews try the Boston Review or someplace where they know what they are talking about and not just whining. Or what established poets have said about Dickman’s work. Schiavo is boring at best and seems to have the emotional stability of a 12 year old.
Wow. I guess I’ve just been so busy raising my children and being the executive functioning body (which is already not my strong suit) to a house full of off-the-charts-gifted people who can’t put perishables in the fridge or find their own socks, that I missed out on all the excitement two years ago. Is it too late now for me to get in on the action?
Well, how’s this for a sob story: I recently submitted a poem I have been working on for about 5 years to a journal that was offering an editor’s prize. Guess who the guest editor is? Matthew Dickman. I didn’t do my homework beforehand, I just read the journal’s mission statement, which said something about discovering diverse voices, and I was schmoozed into thinking it might be worth my ten bucks to give it a shot. Well, then I got curious and I looked up Matthew Dickman’s poetry on-line, and came across a piece (yes, intentionally refraining from using the term, poem) entitled “V.” Well, aside from the fact that I am admittedly the world’s biggest prude, I took deep offense at Dickman’s exploitation of stereotypically “Nerdy” references in his inauthentic, ill-informed pretense at caring about what type of communication might actually appeal to another human being (ie, the girl with the t-shirt), that is, after he was finished “getting himself over” (as Schiavo so aptly described it), which actually only served the purpose of giving him what he thought was a viable excuse to write the terms “cock ring” and something about the “shadow of an anus” within the construct of something he tried to pass off as a poem. Yes, in addition to being a spiritually-disillusioned forty-something, I am also, admittedly, the queen of the run-on-sentence, and not trying to hide my penchant for commas, either, but… I also happen to be the parent of a delightful, high-functioning autistic child, who at the tender age of 13 is a million times more a MAN than Dickman. I highly resent that Dickman tried to weasel his way into an archetype and embody something that he knows absolutely nothing about, for no other reason than to engage in a sex-fest with himself and attempt to appear charming to teenagers while doing so. (I also highly resent that he got paid for it without being drawn up on prostitution charges). What I can assure you is #1. that no WOMAN I know would see it as anything but repulsive, and #2. that I know for a fact that for at least one young man I am aware of who is genuinely fascinated by and informed about the physical properties of space that cause light to bend (though he is too young to appreciate the nerdy appeal of Star Trek, and would probably find it to be tedious and/or rife with contradictions), the Physics, itself, is plenty exciting, and finding another person with whom he could share his abounding observations and discoveries about the laws of nature (more than once…) would be a dream come true, and #3. I do not doubt for a nanosecond that the FURTHEST thing from his mind is a cock ring. The most disconcerting thing of all, though, is that I’m pretty sure I now know all anyone needs to know about this Joe who is five years and apparently light-years my junior in experience, and HE will be judging the merits of something I wrote… Yuck. But it’s my own fault…
So, to weigh in about the topic at hand two years after the fact: I appreciate Schiavo’s careful, thoughtful criticism of Dickman (and especially got a chuckle from the allusion to the extent of Dickman’s world-view and the authority he draws upon to call himself “American” being right on par with that of Sarah Palin), but I imagine that the building of his (Schiavo’s) soap-box alone would have taken more spare time than I have in a given month… If I had the kind of time it takes to craft a manifesto, let’s just say I’d be spending it in other ways.
That being said, Rauan Klassnik’s criticism of the criticism (does that make it a meta-criticism?) was also astute to an extent, but I ask, also, to what end? It is two years later, and Dickman is judging a poetry contest for a distinguished journal… And while I agree with Schiavo that we should be suspect of anyone who would place Dickman in the same exalted camp as Whitman (or even compare their styles or breadth or depth of insight in any way whatsoever), I also appreciate Klassnik’s warmer and fuzzier approach to criticism, in general, that who’s to say that “poets” (term used loosely, in Dickman’s case) are not allowed to do whatever it might be that gets them off, and, if it lands on paper, call it poetry? But is negatively criticizing negative criticism any more wholesome or useful an endeavor that just plain old negative criticism, in terms of convincing the brain-washed and/or stupid masses to stop equating provocative with good, refreshing or new? Dickman has nothing in common with Whitman, because only being capable of writing about yourself and pretending like that’s not really what you’re doing is not at all the same thing as writing a “Song of Myself” that recognizes above all else that it cannot BE anything without an OTHER who is willing AND able to be the trace, form, documentation of, and justification for the author’s very existence. Simply put, Whitman is vastly more creative than Dickman in expressing his hunger for validation and conquest (sexually and otherwise). When he is through with ravishing you, you don’t leave feeling cheap or cheated. Whitman is an artist.