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Chargement... Join the Planetspar Reed Bye
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Poetry. JOIN THE PLANETS contains a generous selection from Bye's earlier books, plus almost a hundred pages of new poems. "There is a kindness to Reed Bye's poetry that is impossible to separate from the considerable skills variously on display throughout his work; it is part of his sense of measure, and would alone, rare quality that it is, make JOIN THE PLANETS a pleasure to engage. That Bye's poems are rich with observation and musical range, as well as a deeply nuanced sense of scale, raises the stakes: this is a sorely needed book, and it is a joy to have it in the world"--Anselm Berrigan. Reed Bye's previous books include Some Magic at the Dump, Erstwhile Charms, BORDER THEME, HEART'S BESTIARY and Passing Freaks and Grace. His first CD, LONG WAY AROUND, was released in 2005 and is available from SPD. Bye is a professor at Naropa University, and lives with his wife in Boulder, Colorado. Aucune description trouvée dans une bibliothèque |
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I'm strongly opposed to the un-self-critical pursuit of 'creative' activity b/c I think that the "un-self-critical" aspect of it is precisely what keeps it from being creative. IMO, entirely too many people take certain bases for granted & work from there. As such, we have a plethora of people just drawing pictures as if that's enuf. To me, it isn't. Sure, maybe everyone can draw a picture but that doesn't mean that doing so is going to manifest any skill or any content that's going to distinguish sd picture enuf to make it interesting to a connoisseur. Same goes for poetry.
Many people probably think that being a poet means just writing poetry. Fair enuf, sortof. But what's the HOW of it beyond that?! Many poets just sit down & write some words down, maybe they read it then & change a few things. But are they thinking: What do I think poetry is & how does this poem relate to the body of poetry that already exists? If the poet isn't even doing that little bit of beginner introspection & analysis chances are their writing won't amt to much.
In other words, to me there's a bit of empty egomania involved in thinking that just by writing a poem the poet is accomplishing much. For me, any creative person is more likely to be actually creative if they're tapping into their deepest levels of personal individuality in their most informed way - & it helps to actually have a self-consciousness of what that means in their individual case, to have well-articulated standards for this. & this is, IMO, precisely what most pseudo-creative people lack. Instead there's the kind of 'stoner' mentality: "Wow, dude, I'm so clever & profound" - end of story, no need for substance when egomania can do w/o it so easily.
I've reviewed alotof poetry here. & Alan Davies & I 've commented elsewhere that there's too much uncritical mutual back-scratching in the poetry world. All the poets give all the other poets 5 star ratings for their bks b/c they don't want to hurt their friends' feelings & b/c they don't want bad ratings for their bks. Few GoodReads reviewers ever bother to actually explain why they think the bks are so 'great'. Hence, such are valueless as criticism.
Then there're the capsule reviews on the backs of bks. On poetry bks, they tend to be samples of whatever hyperbole style the reviewer (usually another poet) enjoys writing. But are they heartfelt? I maintain a firm NO on that one. Take, eg, Clark Coolidge's endorsement of Reed Bye's "Join the Planets":
"Such fine work over so many years' sheer poem! Modest, undernoticed, Reed Bye knows the ropes, holds to the adventure and shares out his finds. All praise!"
My translation of this is along these lines: 'Reed Bye is in a position of power at a university where I like to read. If I say what I really think about his writing I'll never be invited back again - &, besides, he's a nice guy.' But, then, what do I 'know'? Maybe Coolidge really loves this writing. I doubt it.
For me, "Join the Planets" exemplifies the 'I'm going to sit down & write a poem now' school of poetry that most poetry comes from - & I find it deeply unsatisfying. Take, eg, this poem on p22:
"INDIANA
A blue garbage truck goes by
and it's already hot.
A guy with an unlit cigarette out his mouth
hacks down the motel walk.
Soon we'll be driving,
Tom will be driving, me
off and on reading
Two Years Before the Mast.
In the coffee shop now
just me the cook and waitress,
nothing sexual but
the Declaration of Independence
placemat.
What an excellent
taut nippled document--
governments are instituted
to secure rights for their peoples.
When they fuck up, they're out."
What's being written here? How's it being written? Are either the form or the content remarkable enuf to justify my reading it in a bk? I think not. If I were sitting in a coffee shop w/ a friend & he noted that a garbage truck went by it wd be small talk. If he noted a guy w/ a cigarette walking by it wd be small talk. If he mentioned that he'd be reading a novel while his friend drives it might get beyond small talk if he sd something substantive about the novel. The comment on the Declaration of Independence placemat might qualify as low-level 'witty' banter. All in all there's not much here but egomania - the belief that any observation, no matter how banal, when placed in poetic form somehow becomes justified, perhaps even 'elevated'. To me it's just a bore. But this is one of the poems I dislike the most. There are exceptions. I found this poem on p31 slightly more interesting:
"THE BLACK TOOTH SNARLED IN THE VICTOR'S BEHIND"
Money, pragmatism, and future news
versus down there scrubbing for car insurance
The body kept bright versus
throwing what's left in the sea.
Mind turning back and forth
on a priceless fantasy.
The great flaw dallies on the bridge,
you meet the big man and the little,
both make a living on the same substance,
both need to talk about it.
They live among the moneyless
planning their escape,
worried about the struggle
on the bridge, will they survive?
And will there be no or too much
time left, then, for their writing?
The day the empire turns toward ruin
another shiny ball slips between the flippers."
Rather than just observing & reporting he's ruminating. But as I'm writing this review I'm listening to Luciano Berio conducting The London Sinfonietta conducting his own works: "Points on the Curve to Find", "Concertino", "Chemins IV", & "Linea" - & the amt of care & love & imagination & knowledge that goes into producing such work makes these poems seem lazy & thoughtless in contrast.
I read this entire bk & took notes thruout. I noted dreams & typos & references to other people whose paths I've also crossed. It was my intention to write a more even-handed & thorough review, it was my intention to find something positive to say mixed in w/ my distain for the lack of formal innovation & what I think of as 'self-indulgence'. Alas, in the end, listening to Berio's genius, I think I shd get to work on something more important to me. Sorry about that.