Excerpts
Working Definitions?
Poetry can thus be defined as the art of language, as distinguished from fiction which is the art of written narrative, from drama, the art of theatrical narrative, or from the essay, the art of written rhetoric.
There are only two modes in which any genre can be written, prose and verse. Prose is unmetered language; verse is metered language. Any of the genres can be written in either of the modes; that is, there are prose narratives and verse narratives, prose dramas and verse dramas, prose essays and verse essays. Likewise, there are prose poems and verse poems.
There is, thus, only one logical answer to the question “What is the difference between poetry and prose?” Poetry is a genre, and prose is a mode.
–from pages 4-5 of The New Book of Forms: A Handbook of Poetics (1986) by Lewis Turco
Tags: lewis turco, the book of forms
Thanks, I just put that in my scrapbook folder.
If this kind of thing interests you I recommend “The Architext” by Gerard Genette.
Thanks, I just put that in my scrapbook folder.
If this kind of thing interests you I recommend “The Architext” by Gerard Genette.
Hmmmm. This doesn’t seem to fit historically though – look at all poetry pre renaissance (ie the birth of the sonnet – it being the first poetic form not intended to be read aloud; the beginnings of widespread literacy, etc etc). Furthermore the etymology of the word “Prose” complicates matters further.
Hmmmm. This doesn’t seem to fit historically though – look at all poetry pre renaissance (ie the birth of the sonnet – it being the first poetic form not intended to be read aloud; the beginnings of widespread literacy, etc etc). Furthermore the etymology of the word “Prose” complicates matters further.
There are some poems that contain “verse” sections as well as “prose” sections.
And isn’t The Canterbury Tales a “written narrative”?
I’d rather think of the division between prose and poetry as a gradual continuum.
There are some poems that contain “verse” sections as well as “prose” sections.
And isn’t The Canterbury Tales a “written narrative”?
I’d rather think of the division between prose and poetry as a gradual continuum.
Dig it, especially this: ‘Poetry is a genre’
hehe
Dig it, especially this: ‘Poetry is a genre’
hehe
Could you elaborate, Ross? The OED mentions the earliest version of “prose” as “prouse,”:
Anglo-Norman and Middle French prose (French prose) form of discourse which is not subject to the rules of verse (c1265),
though it then seems to drift into:
hymn (13th cent. in Anglo-Norman), composition recited in the Mass after the gradual (first half of the 14th cent.), written document (14th cent.)
which means it moved away from its root. Does it simplify and then complicate, maybe?
Could you elaborate, Ross? The OED mentions the earliest version of “prose” as “prouse,”:
Anglo-Norman and Middle French prose (French prose) form of discourse which is not subject to the rules of verse (c1265),
though it then seems to drift into:
hymn (13th cent. in Anglo-Norman), composition recited in the Mass after the gradual (first half of the 14th cent.), written document (14th cent.)
which means it moved away from its root. Does it simplify and then complicate, maybe?
“Poetry can thus be defined as the art of language, as distinguished from fiction which is the art of written narrative”
i hate this distinction. it doesn’t ring true. so fiction does not involve the art of language? poetry has no narrative?
so then, william gass is more often than not a poet, while russell edson must be writing prose?
definitions are stifling.
“Poetry can thus be defined as the art of language, as distinguished from fiction which is the art of written narrative”
i hate this distinction. it doesn’t ring true. so fiction does not involve the art of language? poetry has no narrative?
so then, william gass is more often than not a poet, while russell edson must be writing prose?
definitions are stifling.
Your point is an interesting one, Matt. Turco doesn’t seem to account for multi-genre work (i.e. The Canterbury Tales: an example of a text that contains both prose & verse).
I also wonder how Turco might classify something like the Lyric Essay.
With regard to your comment: “I’d rather think of the division between prose and poetry as a gradual continuum.” Turco would argue that Poetry is a genre, and Prose is a mode; therefore no continuum could feasibly be established between those two things. Using the continuum model, they would each be on their own separate continuum: one generic and the other modal.
Your point is an interesting one, Matt. Turco doesn’t seem to account for multi-genre work (i.e. The Canterbury Tales: an example of a text that contains both prose & verse).
I also wonder how Turco might classify something like the Lyric Essay.
With regard to your comment: “I’d rather think of the division between prose and poetry as a gradual continuum.” Turco would argue that Poetry is a genre, and Prose is a mode; therefore no continuum could feasibly be established between those two things. Using the continuum model, they would each be on their own separate continuum: one generic and the other modal.
Good recommendation, Alan. I have learned a lot from Genette — especially from his three volume collection called Figures.
Good recommendation, Alan. I have learned a lot from Genette — especially from his three volume collection called Figures.
@ Blake: I used to subscribe to the notion that definitions (here, more specifically, genre definitions) are stifling, but I’ve come t’other way. I feel they’re necessary. Especially in literature. My feeling is that they do nothing to define how a work *should* be written, but rather are a guide to the pact made with the reader. Thus, for me: fiction = not true. Judge me on how “believable” I feel (whatever that might mean for a reader). Non-fiction: judge me on a factual basis. And, finally, poetry: I am neither factual nor untrue. I become fact via my self-announcement.
@ Blake: I used to subscribe to the notion that definitions (here, more specifically, genre definitions) are stifling, but I’ve come t’other way. I feel they’re necessary. Especially in literature. My feeling is that they do nothing to define how a work *should* be written, but rather are a guide to the pact made with the reader. Thus, for me: fiction = not true. Judge me on how “believable” I feel (whatever that might mean for a reader). Non-fiction: judge me on a factual basis. And, finally, poetry: I am neither factual nor untrue. I become fact via my self-announcement.
I agree, Blake, definitions are stifling! That’s part of why I posted this thing: it got me thinking about the assumptions we have when we approach texts, how these assumptions are bred in us, and what effects/affects those assumptions might engender.
For instance: if I believe fiction should be written narrative, then I will dismiss a piece of fiction that seems overly concerned with the art of language simply because it is not meeting my idea of what fiction should be.
I would argue that this is one of the constitutive features of what precipitates the division between “conventional realism” & “experimental” literature. The conventionalist values the art of written narrative, and the experimentalist values the art of language. This is not to say that they don’t both partake in each of those things, it just strikes me as a difference in preference.
To put it another way, by Turco’s definition most of the fiction writers I like are actually writing poetry. And since I, myself, am way more interested in the art of language than the art of narrative, I guess I should start thinking of what I do as poetry not fiction — but does it really matter? I don’t know. I guess not, but maybe it does. I don’t know.
I agree, Blake, definitions are stifling! That’s part of why I posted this thing: it got me thinking about the assumptions we have when we approach texts, how these assumptions are bred in us, and what effects/affects those assumptions might engender.
For instance: if I believe fiction should be written narrative, then I will dismiss a piece of fiction that seems overly concerned with the art of language simply because it is not meeting my idea of what fiction should be.
I would argue that this is one of the constitutive features of what precipitates the division between “conventional realism” & “experimental” literature. The conventionalist values the art of written narrative, and the experimentalist values the art of language. This is not to say that they don’t both partake in each of those things, it just strikes me as a difference in preference.
To put it another way, by Turco’s definition most of the fiction writers I like are actually writing poetry. And since I, myself, am way more interested in the art of language than the art of narrative, I guess I should start thinking of what I do as poetry not fiction — but does it really matter? I don’t know. I guess not, but maybe it does. I don’t know.
Narrative poetry, of course, has its supporters.
Narrative poetry, of course, has its supporters.
Hmm. I don’t know. I’m still not sold on the value of defining, particularly from the creator’s standpoint.
Here’s a question: what good has the supposed differentiation between prose and poetry done for you in your own making? Is it something you even think about? Or is this a practice for particularly discerning readers, who think as much about the screens around the thing as they do the thing?
Hmm. I don’t know. I’m still not sold on the value of defining, particularly from the creator’s standpoint.
Here’s a question: what good has the supposed differentiation between prose and poetry done for you in your own making? Is it something you even think about? Or is this a practice for particularly discerning readers, who think as much about the screens around the thing as they do the thing?
I think prose is omnivorous, thus devours whatever is available for its purposes. Poetry flaunts rhythm and the materiality of language, so prose ingests it. It sees catechism, so it swallows that (Ulysses). It sees Biblical language and Hemingway and Faulkner and giant Western vistas, chomp, chomp (McCarthy). It sees bureaucratic forms, yum (Jonke’s Geometric Regional Novel). It sees film, so we have the cutaway technique beloved of many contemporary short story writers, and the montage of Ondaatje or Matt Bell’s “Ten Scenes from a Movie Called Mercy.” It sees the web and so we get hypertext. It’s appetite is bottomless and rebounds quickly after momentary satiety.
For me, the only value of those definitions is if they can point me to something savory…or at least edible.
I think prose is omnivorous, thus devours whatever is available for its purposes. Poetry flaunts rhythm and the materiality of language, so prose ingests it. It sees catechism, so it swallows that (Ulysses). It sees Biblical language and Hemingway and Faulkner and giant Western vistas, chomp, chomp (McCarthy). It sees bureaucratic forms, yum (Jonke’s Geometric Regional Novel). It sees film, so we have the cutaway technique beloved of many contemporary short story writers, and the montage of Ondaatje or Matt Bell’s “Ten Scenes from a Movie Called Mercy.” It sees the web and so we get hypertext. It’s appetite is bottomless and rebounds quickly after momentary satiety.
For me, the only value of those definitions is if they can point me to something savory…or at least edible.
Can anyone tell
Me if this
Is a poem or
Not?
Can anyone tell
Me if this
Is a poem or
Not?
I CAN tell you. I’m just not GOING to tell you.
Sorry.
I CAN tell you. I’m just not GOING to tell you.
Sorry.
Shame.
Shame.
I think you’re absolutely right about this being a non-issue for writers, Blake. Makers need not worry about definitions, they need only make.
This issue is primarily one for readers — not just discerning readers, but all readers.
Like I said before, I think many readers base their judgment of work on their understanding of what work is “supposed to do” –or– “ought to be”. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard/read a response to a work of experimental fiction along the lines of “it’s not a story” –or– “what’s the point?” These assumptions: that prose should have a story or that prose ought to have a point, are just two examples of why I think it’s important to confront and reevaluate our working definitions.
These hypothetical readers that I’m using as example have obviously internalized Turco’s dictum about fiction being the art of the written narrative. Thus, they go to fiction looking for written narrative. I was hoping, by posting these obviously problematic definitions, that they might function as a mirror, so that they might strike readers as so absurd as to make them question their own working definitions.
As I’m typing this I’m realizing I probably should have written this or something like it in the post, to contextualize it better. Crap. Well, hopefully folks are checking out this comment thread!
I think you’re absolutely right about this being a non-issue for writers, Blake. Makers need not worry about definitions, they need only make.
This issue is primarily one for readers — not just discerning readers, but all readers.
Like I said before, I think many readers base their judgment of work on their understanding of what work is “supposed to do” –or– “ought to be”. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard/read a response to a work of experimental fiction along the lines of “it’s not a story” –or– “what’s the point?” These assumptions: that prose should have a story or that prose ought to have a point, are just two examples of why I think it’s important to confront and reevaluate our working definitions.
These hypothetical readers that I’m using as example have obviously internalized Turco’s dictum about fiction being the art of the written narrative. Thus, they go to fiction looking for written narrative. I was hoping, by posting these obviously problematic definitions, that they might function as a mirror, so that they might strike readers as so absurd as to make them question their own working definitions.
As I’m typing this I’m realizing I probably should have written this or something like it in the post, to contextualize it better. Crap. Well, hopefully folks are checking out this comment thread!
Yes, I do, Mr. Higgs. What you need to do is get a copy of the book and read it rather than judge from excerpts published on-line. There are two modes of writing, and two modes only: prose, which is unmetered language, and verse, which is metered language. Then there are genres of writing: fiction, drama, poetry, expository writing and other nonfiction genres. ANY OF THE GENRES MAY BE WRITTEN IN EITHER OF THE MODES. And, of course, a writer (such as Chaucer) may mix genres at will.
Yes, I do, Mr. Higgs. What you need to do is get a copy of the book and read it rather than judge from excerpts published on-line. There are two modes of writing, and two modes only: prose, which is unmetered language, and verse, which is metered language. Then there are genres of writing: fiction, drama, poetry, expository writing and other nonfiction genres. ANY OF THE GENRES MAY BE WRITTEN IN EITHER OF THE MODES. And, of course, a writer (such as Chaucer) may mix genres at will.
Mr. Turco, it’s an honor to have you here at htmlgiant. Your presence leads me to believe you are either a) interested in issues of contemporary indie literature, or b) you are like me and obsessively Google yourself. Either way, it’s a pleasure to engage in conversation with you.
Point of clarification: I posted those quotes directly from your book, they were not excerpts found on line. I own and have read/studied your book.
The points you make here are redundant; if you were to notice carefully, my second block quote above outlines those distinctions. This still does not account for work such as the lyric essay, which directly challenges the distinctions between the art of language/written narrative/written rhetoric. The very fact that you are using the word EITHER (written in either mode) instead of the word BOTH is the key to the disconnect.
Furthermore, your comment that “a writer (such as Chaucer) may mix genres at will” seems to nullify the necessity of establishing the distinctions in the first place, does it not? Or perhaps this notion of “mixing” is your way of gesturing toward the problem of the lyric essay?
At any rate, I appreciate your comment. Thank you again for taking the time to engage with our community.
Mr. Turco, it’s an honor to have you here at htmlgiant. Your presence leads me to believe you are either a) interested in issues of contemporary indie literature, or b) you are like me and obsessively Google yourself. Either way, it’s a pleasure to engage in conversation with you.
Point of clarification: I posted those quotes directly from your book, they were not excerpts found on line. I own and have read/studied your book.
The points you make here are redundant; if you were to notice carefully, my second block quote above outlines those distinctions. This still does not account for work such as the lyric essay, which directly challenges the distinctions between the art of language/written narrative/written rhetoric. The very fact that you are using the word EITHER (written in either mode) instead of the word BOTH is the key to the disconnect.
Furthermore, your comment that “a writer (such as Chaucer) may mix genres at will” seems to nullify the necessity of establishing the distinctions in the first place, does it not? Or perhaps this notion of “mixing” is your way of gesturing toward the problem of the lyric essay?
At any rate, I appreciate your comment. Thank you again for taking the time to engage with our community.
in the renaissance the definitions of prose and poetry seemed to intertwine, with each at different times being a perjorative for what we now call poetry – a certain writer would e crafting “mere poesy” or “mere prose”
in the renaissance the definitions of prose and poetry seemed to intertwine, with each at different times being a perjorative for what we now call poetry – a certain writer would e crafting “mere poesy” or “mere prose”
My major bug with this is the who “prose is unmetered language” – all language has meter, it’s just a question of whether it’s regular or not – and “poetry is a genre”. The combination of the two makes the vast majority of poetry since Whitman “prose poetry” – and by common usage of the term this is clearly not the case.
My major bug with this is the who “prose is unmetered language” – all language has meter, it’s just a question of whether it’s regular or not – and “poetry is a genre”. The combination of the two makes the vast majority of poetry since Whitman “prose poetry” – and by common usage of the term this is clearly not the case.
LANGUAGE GOD HAS SPOKEN
LANGUAGE GOD HAS SPOKEN
Thanks, Ross. Interesting stuff.
Thanks, Ross. Interesting stuff.
No, all language does NOT have “meter.” All language has RHYTHM. Only VERSE has METER.
What good has the differentiation done? It’s put poetry in a dark corner, for one thing.
Anybody here read Attridge’s Poetic Rhythm: An Introduction?
No, all language does NOT have “meter.” All language has RHYTHM. Only VERSE has METER.
What good has the differentiation done? It’s put poetry in a dark corner, for one thing.
Anybody here read Attridge’s Poetic Rhythm: An Introduction?