I'm always a little cranky about having to go work and earn money instead of reading and writing all day, and this morning I got all the way to high dudgeon at what appeared to me a deliberate misrepresentation by Jonathan Mayhew of my last night's post. I sent a most unfriendly email, Jonathan replied, and after things calmed down a real exchange occurred (I must say that Jonathan did more than I to defuse things). Here, with Jonathan's permission, is that exchange. Only the first message is edited, presenting the context for what follows without referring back to the meanness I started. Part of what I say is obviously paraphrased from the Christian Wiman essay I quoted a few days ago, and the phrase "Dead as Queen Anne" came from a blog I was reading yesterday: alas! I don't remember which.
Jonathan: that's the function of criticism: to provide that context and preparation, that little nudge in the right direction.
Me: Jonathan, think for a moment about the trap you've set for poetry. In what other art form would you say the intervention of a critic is required for even surface enjoyment of the best work? I can think of one -- serial music. As dead as Queen Anne.
Like artists in every other field, poets must seduce and charm to reach an audience other than their friends or school or internet circle or hip coterie. If they can't or won't, well, they will be forever at the margins. There's nothing wrong with that, and you are consistent at least to the point of saying that that's where poets belong.
But the poets who can and will have at least a chance to be heard by the larger culture when they go on to say hard things, hard in form and matter. I don't admire his work as you do, but Frank O'Hara knew that. There's a good essay on him by Stephen Burt posted today.
Jonathan: I'd say any art in which the products are numerous and the good stuff is hard to sort out needs more criticism, someone to nudge the reader in the right direction. I'm always grateful when a critic points out a writer I would have otherwise overlooked. There's a sea of crap out there, and poets are so chummy and afraid of offending their peers that nobody will point this out. The good stuff doesn't just magically land in my lap. It's hard work seeking it out. The reader in the bookstore coming on Anne Carson will be extremely lucky: he or she will have chanced on something worthwhile, a one in a hundred chance. I'm not at all assuming that poetry needs explication for surface enjoyment. What it needs is someone to say: "hey, look at this, it's good!" Or, "if you think it's dull it's because it is dull," as with my comments on Cole Swensen. Criticism is discrimination.
Me: Music and visual art critics are not generally themselves musicians or visual artists, and can be disinterested in their opinions. Even novels generally get reviewed by non-novelists. In addition, there's a sizable audience of people who have no professional connection at all to the arts who spend their money on and talk to their friends about music and novels and even painting. There's a pretty good chance, in such an environment, that the sorting out you wish for will in fact occur. Ideologues, frauds, and the talentless will be quickly exposed.
Even so, critics only become useful as guides when one has formed one's own tastes sufficiently, through non-specialist education and exposure to the general culture, to know that such-and-such a critic usually praises work one has oneself enjoyed, so that a recommendation from that critic means some investment of time and energy is likely be repaid. It becomes worthwhile to take chances on more esoteric work.
But, for whatever reasons, serious poetry is no longer part of the general culture. Poetry is read by, reviewed by, published by, and awarded prizes by other poets. There are no disinterested critics, and there is no general audience. The result is that there is indeed a sea of crap out there -- I'd say there are many seas of crap, each with its particular stench sincerely promoted by the sailors sinking in it. Is Pinsky or Silliman a reliable guide? Burt? Wiman? Kasey? Me? You? How can anyone know?
People value that for which they've paid dearly. Fraternities with the most rigorous hazings have the most loyal members, least likely to question group motivations and actions. The same is true of outsider, shunned groups -- they pay a price for each other's loyalty. I don't think the New Formalists or the L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poets or the flarfists are any different. The only way to find out whether the price was really worth it is to try to reach people outside the charmed prison.
Jonathan: I agree with what you say here. Poetry reviewing is awful for this very reason. I'm a pretty reliable guide to poetry, if only everyone knew it!
For what it's worth, I like Anne Carson's poetry, and even the poem quoted isn't bad — I just think it's a horrific choice for the first poem in a book.
7:10:04 PM 
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