A question that is almost always difficult to answer — and in many ways, I think it should be, that something is wrong if it isn’t — is:
What do you write about?
Maybe:
I write about feelings.
or
I write about birds.
or
I write about feelings and birds.
or
I write about bird feelings.
or
I write about new things and old things.
I think these could all be true.
Another thing I realised is that many poets — most — have poet mentors.
I haven’t had one yet. I’ve had people help me and give me lots of good advice. I wonder if it releases you somehow, lets you submit your education to someone else.
*
The following is a very, very long list of books recently purchased. It’s very, very long partly because the last time I did a recap was early January, partly because I had to buy a lot of course books and partly because I have been buying a lot of good books.
Poetry
Louise Gluck: A Village Life (2009)
This is signed as of yesterday, along with my copy of the first four books. Jealous?
What if I told you I also spent half an hour talking one-on-one with her about my poems?
Susan Howe: Souls of the Labadie Tract (2007)
I haven’t read this yet, but will soon. And see her read.
Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin: The Sun-Fish (2009)
Also signed. She’s a lovely woman and this is a lovely book. Highly recommended.
(The other cover is better, though.)
Kathleen Pierce: The Ardors (2004)
I reviewed this here.
Carl Phillips: From the Devotions (1998)
I haven’t read this one yet, but I expect it will be great.
Laura Riding: Selected Poems: in Five Sets (1970)
Excited for this.
Anne Carson/Sappho: If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho (2002)
We read this in the translation seminar-cum-workshop I’m taking this semester. I haven’t quite figured out how to list this book. The cover and all the introductory material suggest very much that this is an Anne Carson book — Anne Carson writing Sappho. And in many ways that’s precisely what it is. But for those who are confused, this is a collection of Anne Carson’s translations of Sappho’s fragments. They are astonishingly beautiful; easily the best Sappho I have read. The notes are wonderful too, which is not something one generally says of notes in poetry books.
Aleš Šteger: The Book of Things (2010; tr. Brian Henry)
I bought this book by accident. I saw it on Amazon and thought it was nonfiction. I read the description a little, but obviously not well enough. The cover called to me. So I bought it and then when I got it and opened it I saw it was poems. I was surprised (not disappointed). I’m pretty excited about this now, actually. I don’t know anything about Šteger, who is a Slovenian poet, or about the translator Brian Henry, but I think it will be an interesting project reviewing the book. Besides, I love things.
Brian Teare: Sight Map (2009)
Haven’t read yet, but will in the coming week. A good cover, don’t you think?
CD Wright: Rising, Falling, Hovering (2008)
This cover is simply stunning (and I get the feeling the book is too). I bought it on a high yesterday morning. I had a meeting with Louise Glück and it was wonderful (despite her absolute franchise) and I wanted to buy more of her books. So I almost ran to the nearest bookstore. Unfortunately they only had A Village Life, which I already had. They’re very different writers, but I have a feeling I will adore this book. It feels great in my hands. It’s wider than most books, and warmer.
Nonfiction
Walter Benjamin: Illuminations (1968; tr. Harry Zohn)
It was time.
André Breton: Mainfestoes of Surrealism (1962; tr. Richard Seaver, Helen R Lane)
I bought this for a class on dada and surrealism. I would never have bought it otherwise. I read the first manifesto and Soluble Fish. I doubt I’ll read anything more. I’ll probably sell it back. Vile stuff.
Matthew Gale: Dada & Surrealism (1997)
A strange mix of textbook and coffee table book. I prefer it to the actual surrealist manifestoes and texts; it’s interesting and has a lot of nice pictures. I’ll probably be done with it by the end of the semester.
Robert Motherwell: The Dada Painters and Poets: An Anthology (1951)
Another textbook, and rather expensive. It is, however, very comprehensive and fairly interesting. I can’t imagine reading it cover to cover though. I like the typeface. Might sell it back.
Eliot Weinberger/Octavio Paz: 19 Ways of Looking at Wang Wei (1987)
I wrote about this here. I got it for the translation class and it, shall we say, yields.
Recipe books
David Lebovitz: The Sweet Life in Paris (2009)
I adore David Lebovitz. He has wonderful recipes and anecdotes. You can’t go wrong following his instructions. My favourite cake in the whole world is the almond cake you’ll find on his blog. Anyway, he tweeted that the paperback version of this book was selling for pretty cheap on Amazon, so I bought it. Can’t wait to try the chocolate macarons.
The Margaret Rudkin Pepperidge Farm Cookbook (1963)
This one has been disappointing. I bought it for something like 8 USD (tax included) at a used bookstore, which, considering the book is hardback, very thick, and beautifully illustrated, seems like a steal. But the recipes aren’t very useful. Part of the reason seems to be how outdated the book is in terms of knowing what equipment and ingredients are available today (some people don’t even know what lard is). I tried the oatmeal cookie recipe. It seemed a little off, but I thought maybe it was just a quaint way of making cookies. They were terrible. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me. I have that much confidence in my cooking abilities.
If, by the way, you need an excellent oatmeal cookie recipe, ask David Lebovitz.
Drama
Alfred Jarry: Ubu Roi (1961; tr. Barbara Wright)
Another book I wouldn’t have bought/read if it weren’t for the dada/surrealism class.
Fiction
Louis Aragon: Paris Peasant (1994; tr. Simon Watson Taylor)
And another. Although this one looks pretty interesting. Great cover.
André Breton: Nadja (tr. Richard Howard)
And another. The best thing about this one is the cover and even that isn’t so great. (Yes, I read it. All of it.)
- André Breton: Mad Love (1988; tr. Mary Ann Caws)
And another. I haven’t read it yet, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t deserve such a nice cover.
Jules Renard: Nature Stories (2010; tr. Douglas Parmée)
Bought this morning. I love the New York Review Books catalogue. They publish such wonderful authors in excellent translations. They truly are committed to publishing exciting, little known work. This is the third time I’ve picked a book from their series without knowing I wanted it or even knowing the writer much at all. This is a translation from the French of Jules Renard‘s 1894 collection Histoires Naturelles with illustrations by Pierre Bonnard. I can’t wait to read it.
Françoise Sagan: Bonjour Tristesse (1955; tr. Irene Ash)
Bought this for 25 cents at the public library (10 cents more than its original price).
Well, that’s all for now. Not too obscene, is it?
I’ve never had a poet mentor, either, but wouldn’t mind one. I have a much clearer sense of my aesthetic in painting, photography, music, and prose than I do of poetry. Someone once suggested that I don’t like poetry very much, and perhaps I don’t? Hard to say.
Yes, very jealous!
*book envy*
I tried Nadja and some of Salvador Dali’s poetry and fiction and it did not impress me at all. Such a pity considering some of my favourite pieces of art came from the movement.
By the way, which one’s the NYRB publication?
Carson’s Sappho is way more interesting to me that perhaps even (dare I say it) The Autobiography of Red . The notes are interesting. When I read it, I was wondering what would’ve happened if they’d been footnotes, you know? Would that take away the beauty of the fragment surrounded by all that white space? (What do you think?)
Also, Susan Howe is superlative! I’m still trying to wrap my head around the amazing number of things she’s doing across her books (visual poems, collage, created fragments, character sketches, drawings)! She’s an amazing reader too. I’m seriously jealous that you’re getting to hear her read. Gah.
I suspect that time will answer that question for you. I can now look back on almost forty years worth of poetry and it’s pretty obvious that what fascinates me is the human condition, not necessarily my condition although often it is. You won’t find many poems about birds thinking or not thinking. Nor will you find many poems about social issues like war, politics, ecology or religion although I’ve touched on all of those but always from the perspective of the individual.
I never had a mentor in fact it’s only been within the last few years that I’ve even spoken to another poet. A certain part of me is rather grateful for this because it’s forced me to just get on with it. Additionally it meant I developed my own voice and didn’t try to imitate or at least impress another. I did try to mentor a young poet once with mixed success; I found it very draining personally. Nowadays I prefer to share what I know on my blog where anyone can benefit from it.
I assume then that the “Surrealist Manifestos” is just Breton’s writing, then? I have major problems with Pope Breton, though his influence on the movement is undeniable. I’ve read Nadja, which I didn’t like as much as I hoped I would. Seems like Bataille more successfully achieved what he was aiming for in Blue of Noon or even Story of the Eye.
Jarry is fun, basically proto-surrealist parody of Shakespeare. Truly he was the greatest pataphysician of all time. (And Artaud named his theatre after the guy, so…)
I’ve had Aragon recommended to me before, still haven’t read him.
Pallavi,
It’s the Jules Renard (Nature Stories).
Ranj,
I like the notes at the back of the book. It’s a more interesting dialogue that way.
Jim,
it’s pretty obvious that what fascinates me is the human condition
Oh dear.
AR,
Yes, all Breton. He kept writing new manifestoes, but the book also contains other nonfictional/propagandist works of his.
Increasingly, I feel that the core surrealists (among the writers, anyway) were the least talented of the lot. I’m much more interested in writers like Bataille and Leiris. Breton is the worst, IMO.
I liked Jarry, but I don’t really enjoy reading plays.
I’ve just started on the Aragon. Definitely looks better than Breton, but still may not be entirely to my taste.
Some of Breton’s poetry is OK, though often on a line-by-line basis. I haven’t read every one of the Surrealist writers yet, but Desnos is probably the best Surrealist poet I’ve read. English translations of Peret are difficult to find, but the little I’ve read isn’t bad, somewhat similar to Breton but better. Of course I am fond of Artaud, but YMMV.
No, I like Artaud a lot, but then he wasn’t a core Surrealist either. And I do like most of the poetry. I think a more accurate thing to say would be that Breton sucks. A lot. : (
I’m not exactly who are considered the “core Surrealists.” Artaud was involved with the Parisian group early on, around 1924-25, and left before it really broke as a movement in the 30′s. He’s fairly important as a Surrealist IMO, but then I don’t hold that only the Breton-approved artists are Surrealists. Dali wasn’t involved w/the Parisian group very long at all, yet is for many synonymous w/Surrealism as a whole.
The core Surrealists were Breton, Aragon and Souppault and some others that Breton rounded up in his church of Surrealism. Then there were various others on the fringes or who were part of the movement for a while and either left of their own accord or because Breton decided they weren’t good enough or something.
When I say ‘core’ and ‘fringe’ surrealists, I’m only pointing to Breton’s organisation of the movement, and not who I consider more or less surrealist/important/interesting/exciting/great/etc. I don’t hold that only Breton-approved artists are surrealists in the way that they thought about and produced art. My point is simply that to me the fringe surrealists are more interesting than the core ones (where core/fringe merely refer to where Breton placed people, etc), so we’re on the same side here.