Saturday, November 08, 2003
Thanks for writing about Dan's book — it's always interesting to get people's thoughts on his writing.
I had to stop and think about why I did not list the order of the sections of culture, which is I guess a way of saying that what follows is more hindsight than anything else. But, for what it's worth, here's my take:
You're right about why Krupskaya published some of it online — they simply couldn't afford to do the whole book. I'm not sure how Dan himself would have felt about this compromise. Ultimately, I felt that, because Dan had been so active online, even before the World Wide Web, it was appropriate that some of it appear online, even given that the reason it's up there is due to a financial compromise. Part of the compromise, I think, involves especially that piece "An Account," which posed a kind of typesetter's nightmare. By simply scanning Dan's manuscript (no electronic version of any of this text existed — at least, I didn't have an electronic copy of any of it), all of his intended formatting was retained. Because Krupskaya books are uniform in design and size, I'm not sure how a typesetter would have gone about reformatting something designed initially for 8-1/2" x 11" ... I mean, it could have been done, most likely in Quark, but I think the cost (or maybe the cost and time) required to have it done prevented Krupskaya from doing it that way.
The fact that some of it is online and some in print was — to me — an interesting approach to publishing the book that seemed to render the manuscript order somewhat — not entirely, but somewhat — moot, considering that one has to go from book to Web and back to book, so already a solid sense of linearity has been lost. Because he was such a Webhead by the end of his life, that I think Dan would have appreciated the way in which Krupskaya's part-print/part-Web publication brings the work into the digital (and non-, or less linear) age.
But, like I say, that's hindsight, and the truth is, if someone had offered to publish the book wholly in print, that's what I'd have done — and it would have, in that case, retained the original manuscript order of the sections. Krupskaya's interest in publishing the book, btw, was a surprise to me ... Kevin simply wrote to me one day saying that Krupskaya wanted to publish it. I hadn't submitted it myself; I think either Sianne Ngai or Dan Farrell had done so.
I need to dig out the manuscript itself again to find the original order of the sections (it's at home, and I'm at work), but I do know that they weren't ordered chronologically. I think he had figured out all of the sections he was going to write very early on, because I do remember him talking about it as a whole project, even from the beginning, but I don't think he was quite so systematic as to write each section, one after the other, in order. He did, however, finish some things earlier on — Product, for instance was the first one he completed. I think, though, that Image was completed after Transit — I remember Transit appearing very early on in Avec, a couple of years before Image came out as a book from Zasterle.
Thanks again, and hoping you are well,
Thursday, November 06, 2003
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
start looking, Ur-blogs & protoblogs abound. Whoever had the bright idea to
start running the diary of Samuel Pepys
as a blog got it right. Thoreau was a blogger, he just didn’t know it. And Robert
Duncan’s H.D. Book (the PDF of which
appears to have disappeared from its
What brings these thoughts up however inchoately is the appearance in print form of Bruce Andrews’ “Reading Notes” in the latest issue of PLR: The Prague Literary Review, technically vol. 1, number 4. Ostensibly a series of “notes, at times manifesto-like, on the (often neglected) dynamics of reading radical texts,” that use, as a point of reference, Dorothy Trujillo Lusk’s Ogress Oblige, Andrews’ notes want only for a scrollbar & maybe a Squawkbox to become bloggish in the extreme.
Andrews, in a move that will not be unfamiliar to his readers, is out to take no prisoners:
The call is out for a writing that frustrates, or doesn’t bother with, a leaning back style or comfy ‘read.’
Which is to say without necessarily naming names that Andrews is taking on large portions of even the best younger post-avant writers with such a challenge. Comfy would very much seem to be on the agenda, so Andrews is definitely prodding here. Poking to get a response.
As is so characteristic of the blog form – short note: short note: sweeping conclusion – Andrews’ “Notes” proceed not so much as an argument, but as a list, specifically B-1 through B-5 & its parallel portions amid the C’s or, more accurately, graphically,
B-1 through B-5
& so forth, out of what would appear to be a larger suite, possibly A through J. One need not read them sequentially – indeed they seem programmed to catch the bouncing eye that wanders about this tabloid-sized PLR page. Virtually every section & sub-section appears about to burst into topic-sentence-ness at the drop of a droll quotation:
Action: “to repudiate a lineage.” We can experience such a ripping up of convention as we get over being spooked by those ghosts of coherence & consensus that had been bottled up in them. “Time’s showroom exegete” wants our votes for continuity instead. Yet continuity is little more than the concession that death makes to life, or to dynamic change. ‘Close reading’ is taxidermy The best continuity is death.
Hardly any member of my generation (or, as AARP now titles its new mag for boomer geriatrics, My Generation) has half so consistently pushed for an extreme or complete engagement with the problematics of meaning & society as has Andrews, bursts of wit, documentation, perception, emotion exploding off the page with incredible density – the man never lets up. Trujillo Lusk is extraordinarily fortunate to have, in some sense, found her reader in Bruce Andrews – this is, after all, close reading at its most engaged.
not a blog – we need to get Bruce to Blogspot or Onepotmeal or Typepad for that –
but two pages in a 20-page tabloid, printed on fabulously heavy paper – more
the paper stock you would expect for posters than newsprint. Andrews’ first
page has, by way of illustration (I read it more as comment), Robert Smithson’s
A Heap of Language,
the second page wrapped around Carl Fernbach-Flarsheim’s
Boolean Image. Overall, PLR is
a great read, tho hardly a comfy one [buyer beware: the lead article in the
issue is by yours truly, a piece scribed originally some time back for Leslie
Davis’ never-to-appear 20th century anthology].
Still a piece like Bruce’s points both ways – it reminds us once again of just how close to journalism the blog itself as a form is (but with so many critical differences) &, vice versa. Andrews himself would in fact make a great blogger. Hey Bruce, you listening?
* Translated by Gian Lombardo, whose versions of Aloysius Bertrand I have also been enjoying of late.
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Jake Berry responds to my review of his work & to Bill Lavender’s response thereto:
Thanks Bill for the sending the Open Letter. My thoughts regarding the response anthology are much the same as your own. I was not surprised by The Times Picayune review, but I find it fascinating that it is the only book to get panned. Language Poetry is the avant-garde that most academies now recognize as legitimate, so anything calling itself experimental is going to acquire that label. Of course this is inaccurate and perhaps even insulting to some Language poets and no doubt some of the poets in the anthology as well. We knew this was coming.
And I am not surprised that there are Language poets that wish to distance themselves from the anthology, or at the very least discredit it as experimental, or to use your term Ron, "post-avant" ( a very useful term I think, but the "post-" is as overused as experimental (or avant-garde), and no more accurate). As much as this anthology might get labeled Language writing, it makes sense for one of the founders of that movement to say, in effect, "yes, there may be some good writing here, but it's nothing new, and much of it isn't very good." That's fine with me even though I don't agree with it, but then I wouldn't would I?
However, it is important, that an anthology calling itself southern be published by a press in south if only to inform the writers and publishers of "traditional" southern literature that many poets in the south aren't writing traditionally. You and I have talked about this Bill, and I agree that it is important to make this distinction, expecting the backlash from the start, and knowing the direction from which it would come.
Hank's notion of "kudzu textuality" works as well as any other term anyone is likely to come up with, and better than what I would imagine most anthologists could come up with. And I am sure that most all of us that are in the anthology are not comfortable with it, nor would we be comfortable with any other term. That's the nature of the beast. But it gives the reader, especially the reader of "traditional" southern literature something to hang on to going into the book. It perhaps additionally ironic that kudzu is an import to the south. All of us that grew up surrounded by the stuff find it beautiful but a little frightening because once it sets in it's almost impossible to limit its growth, at least in the South. I don't expect the work in the anthology to thrive quite so well, and it's no threat to Language poetry. Still, it is persistent, the South and the world will have to contend with it for a while yet.
I have not read much of what the MFA workshops have produced (though I have enjoyed some of what I have read), so I am not current on the critical terminology. Thinking about "as dense a cluster of overwriting & cliché" as related to Brambu Drezi though seemed to me a fair enough criticism. Compared to much of the contemporary poetry I read (under whatever label) Brambu is certainly overwritten, precisely because so much poetry seems to me underwritten (and I mean that also as being underwritten by concerns that have little if anything to do with the poetry). Brambu is indeed (sometimes) a dense cluster. And it is sometimes clichéd in a sense, but more self-aware of that than you give it credit Ron. And I may indeed need a little "driving instruction", but I seriously doubt that I would drive anywhere that you would want to go. Part of the idea of Brambu is to develop as it goes, and more recent, and yet unpublished sections, of Brambu 3 do seem, to me anyway, to be more focused, but this is probably because I am more focused in my obsessions. I think this happens to most of us as we get older. It produces a different kind of poetry, but not necessarily better. I have no idea if any of my work will be relevant in the future, nor yours or anyone else's. For instance, I like your work (in fact it is the body of work, among the poets associated with Language writing, that I like the most), and many others like your work, but a few generations down the road all our work may all be dust, utterly forgotten. Maybe I'm just a little more reckless than you are. At any rate I appreciate you taking the time to examine the anthology, and responding to it critically. It's more than most have done.
Thanks Bill for the open letter and for striving for clarity in the argument. Your intelligence is one of the primary reasons this project has been so much fun for all of us.
My best to both of you,
Monday, November 03, 2003
One of the
curiosities of Culture, Daniel
Davidson’s collection of poetry that – save for one major collaboration with
I have always presumed that the reason the Krupskaya Culture fails to include the three works is that they would add 61 pages to what is already a 126-page text, placing the book outside the range of what, both formally & financially, the Krupskaya collective could afford. But I realize, in reading (mostly rereading) Davidson, both in print & online, is that I don’t know – because neither the book nor the site make clear – where in the sequence of Culture these works fall. Are they the final three poems? Or not? The question of position & before-&-after has considerable consequence. We have all seen how Mr. Pound once made Mr. Eliot seem quite a bit smarter & sharper than he proved to be, & thus I have a nagging feeling that – as beautiful as the Krupskaya Culture is – the book really is a stopgap measure, to give us some sense as to what is there (& what we have lost) before “the real” compleat edition arrives at some future, unspecified moment.
The three poems that are not included in the print version don’t necessarily strike me as being in any self-evident way “lesser” than the four in the book itself. Here, for a taste, is one section of “Transit”:
relies and remains, the
fabric of discussion, journey of the
whole name, if all that entering into
hopes to be. All are distinguishing some,
and they, quantified the touch of profession
bring machines, then disgorge into
crowd. Ravenous. Return into one,
one into another, then return of the
entry of one. Without convergence the personal
conglomerate slits, looks out, enters
motions the individual, transfers
the physical, then locution, rhetoric
the place where work, the home, and following
the dismemberment, any memory that sells.
Dissolve into place, then into stream,
forgotten ahead, lunge to surround.
the name? Nothing, surrounded by move.
The poet whom Davidson has most reminded me of, over the years, has been Barrett Watten, whose work Davidson obviously read closely – and I suspect with some sense of competition. The shifts between lines, use of categorical nouns, the fondness for one as a neutral pronoun – a term identifying position within a discourse while withholding all else – all feel to me as though I were reading Watten through some kind of half-opaque filter. “Transit” actually strikes me as being less apparent in this regard than do either “Product” or “Image.”
In fact, one of the interesting shifts that my reading takes when I look at what’s on the web in addition to what’s in the book, is that two of the three works in the PDF seem to me to be moving in other directions, not necessarily with less of a sense of being honed in on the writing of one or two poets, but at least different poets.
necessarily a criticism of Davidson – I happen to share his fascination with
Watten’s work & one could, I suspect, make the very same claims about some
of my poetry as well. Yet Davidson’s degree
of influence underscores what I think is one of the real limitations of this
extraordinary talent – Culture is a
very “young” book, younger in some ways than Davidson’s years writing it might
suggest (he began it at 37 and worked for six years on these pieces). Prior to
embarking on Culture, Davidson hadn’t
been a part of the poetry scene in any visible fashion, but, according to old
friend & now literary executor
The result is that I read this book – the physical book – with both great interest & frustration. Not so much frustration that all seven works aren’t included this time around, or even that nobody thought to indicate the final order, but rather that Davidson didn’t give himself the opportunity to set forth on the next journey in his poetic career. What I read here is the foreshadowing of a great poet who never got to get to wherever this work might have gone. Damn.
Sunday, November 02, 2003