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All The World’s A Stage
This precocious role I took in the world was possible only because the world seemed so unreal, the stage transected by lights, its fourth wall missing in order to afford a view to thronged but shadowy spectators. Everything I did was being watched. If I turned right rather than left, someone took careful notice. If I repeated a magic phrase, the words were recorded and obeyed. Those spectators were certainly real, though I did not know them yet, but what they were watching, this dumb show in which I played such a decisive role – it was merely a simulacrum of actual feelings. These tears were paste. What was slowly dawning on me was my extreme importance, something the audience had long ago suspected. Who were they. these spectators? I’d look up into the evening sky to see them ranked in blowing white robes, the hems wet with blood. When I had a fever I could hear them.
Edmund White, A Boy’s Own Story
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A Response To “Poetry, Politics and PhDs”
This article is in response to the Gilbert Koh’s blog post titled “Poetry, Politics and PhDs” posted on mrwangsaysso.blogspot.com. Basically, his post was a self-congratulatory pat on the back that one of his poem has found it’s way into a PhD thesis, culminating into a condescending attack on NUS students and their inability to appreciate poetry. No wait, actually just his poetry.
Upon reading the comments section, it is apparent that the accusation was directed at one Nicholas Liu who wrote an unfavourable article on his latest (and only) poetry anthology, 2 Baby Hands. Nicholas in his review[1] noted a formulaic, cookie-cutter writing style similar to “Alvin Pang” and “Ng Yi-Sheng”. , Nicholas also raised the Koh’s tendency to patronise his readers with a simplistic, ‘in-your-face’ writing style among other jargonistic points raised.
Koh raises several rebuttals in response: [2]
“Firstly, he thinks that my intention, as the poet, was to get the reader to “sigh and leave wiser, reconsidering what it means to write”.
Secondly, he thinks that the poem is a “poem about poetry”.
Thirdly he thinks that there is some “formula” to be applied to writing such a poem, and he goes on to elaborate why I didn’t apply the “formula” well. To illustrate where I’ve misapplied the “formula”, he writes: “”if sentimentality could kill, the image of a child burbling and raising his/her hands to the clouds would surely be a WMD” ….. the situation is not at all improved by Koh’s choice of shorthand for the phenomenal world: birds, rain, clouds, the sky. A longer poem might well have added sunsets, rivers, and adorable kittens. Need I add that for Koh, declaration must be solemn and freshness sweet?”
Nick got nothing right. If Nick were a student writing an essay on my poem, I’d have to fail him, for completely misreading it. Whether he likes the poem or not is a separate question – but he has to be failed, for misreading it…
Nick thought that I’m applying a “formula”. And that I have applied it badly.
I find his remark rather distasteful, not because of the “badly” part, but because in the first place, I do not believe in using any “formula” for writing poetry. I find the suggestion quite insulting actually.”
Sigh… What do I think of this whole fiesta? Well, I find Liu’s article to be a tad too acerbic for my taste; a certain Perez Hiltonesque bitchiness pervades the article. But I thought the points he raised were valid and succinct. Do we penalise the critic because his analysis misread the poet’s intentions expressed the poem? No, unless critic in question failed to provide substiantial evidence for his arguments. We have all seen essays, not just literary in nature that has accused Hitler of being homosexual and Conrad as a white supremacist. Whether one agrees that Koh is employing a formulaic recipe for churning “sub rosa poem(s)-about-poetry” is a different matter altogether but it is totally disrespectful to claim that “Nick got nothing right” because there is no right or wrong to any literary essays. There’s only well-written/ substiantiated essays and essays which are not. Hence, we have to grateful that Koh is not any of our professors because he is not qualified to mark our essays in the first place.
So what do I think about Koh’s poetry? I do agree with Liu in the fact that there is a constant bombardment of cliches in Koh’s work, noted constantly by other critics as well. [3] “Toy soldiers” in National Day Parade to reflect conformity in the army. The choice of a sea setting in My Father Takes My Son For A Walk to create a contemplative atmosphere. Anyone in CAP could do better than that.
Furthermore, I find the poetic structures of Koh’s works vulgar. His poetry seems like broken-up prose masquarading as one. For instance in National Day Parade, it reads almost as well as it is in a linear prose form:
“I had a small part in a big show of a great little nation. My uniformed mates and I were to march out, swing left, turn twice, and get off the grounds in twenty seconds flat. Meanwhile the music boomed, the lasers splashed and the darkened crowds hit. A new high of pre-planned, programmed excitement. ” (truncated, mine.)
There is a disregard for rhythm, rhyme and structure that produces a unique musicality which distinguishes poetry from prose. But then again, my literary sensibilities (and other NUS lit students that Koh is so disapproving from) stems from Shakespeare, Tennyson, Plath and Swinsburne. Koh will say I’m outdated and doesn’t get modern poetry. And I will say most modern poetry are all bs anyways.
[1]http://www.qlrs.com/critique.asp?id=730 (Liu’s review)
[2]https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4405345292513335071&postID=8990124072091597090 (Koh’s rebuttals)
[3] http://www.qlrs.com/acid.asp?id=493 (Another unfavourable review on Koh’s poetry)
[4]http://www.votefortheworst.com/20091014/adam_lambert_writes_awful_poetry (Lambert’s poem)
EDITTED: A friend just reminded me that there are many 21st literary heavyweights whom I adore such as e.e. cummings and Atwood. Their poems are classics but I’m referring to another class of modern poets who lack artistic taste and sensibilities. Many arrange their ramblings into funny shapes (because poetry isn’t poetry without interesting structures), throw in several ambiguous words because they can (Not Koh, though Adam Lambert’s latest attempts at poetry is a good example. [4]) and accuse you of being dense/stupid/snobbish if you don’t get their poetry. Writer friend Perihan Magden once told me that most “postmodern works are rubbish” because of the lax standards of publishing and all the formulaic plots and styles spurn off by 100 dollars creative writing courses. But if you truly think about it, when was the last time someone could write poetry like Shakespeare, Tennyson, Plath, or Eliot? Who could portray human psychology as well as Dostoevsky or Kafka or Nabokov? These literary icons did not undertake any creative writing classes or took whatever Mentor Access Programme. They are the world’s greatest writers because they are the world’s greatest writers. It’s a talent that most people can only try to emulate (See how many people tried to emulate Hemingway but failed?) by paying lots of money without any tangible results.
The Intent Of The Critic
The three roles of the critic—as an individual respond- ing to the work of art, as interpreter to an audience, and finally as judge—merit analysis, for each of them leads to significant corollaries and conclusions.
That a work of art is a personal expression is today generally accepted. It is not so widely recognized that literary criticism is also personal expression. A pure literary critic in the actual practice of his profession cannot escape from being an individual excited into a new or an increased awareness by a specific poem or play. The first quality of a literary critic is the natural
endowment for responding, intuitively and in his own person, to works of art.
— Edmund Wilson.
On Last Boy and Singapore Poetry
I’ve noticed that my posts has been fixated on the theme on literature and poetry for the past few weeks and somehow I’m unable to break off this persistent literary shadow. I’ve been reading up on Singapore literature (yes, cue the orchestra and the B/C chords) and I’m considering signing up for the Mentor Access Project, unless of course my mentor is Ng Yi-Sheng and MOE decides to step in haha. Or Alfian Saat for that matter but I digress. I’m glad that there’s some active programs present that supports the growth of the local literary scene but somehow, I’m dubious about this program. You don’t need to go for some creative writing course or have a Masters in Eng Lit to become the world’s greatest writer. You just gotta be the world’s greatest writer to become the world’s greatest writer.
Perhaps it’s just me, but somehow Singapore literature just doesnt hit the mark. You have all the local poets self-praising each other works (see below) and I’m disappointed at the quality of the literary works produced by Singaporeans. Felix Cheong’s poetry tend to be loaded with incoherent, dissimilar imagery, Gibert Koh’s poems ain’t poems, merely political diatribes arranged ingrammatically and in funny shapes. And Ng Yi-Sheng is just like T.S Eliot, only he’s being obscure for the sake of being obscure. His last boy collection is overridden with Greek, Chinese and ??? mythology that in his appendix he apologetically refers his readers to a tiresome long list of mythic references if they find his poems opaque and “obscure”. This is a perfect example of the rising aesthetic elitism present in the Singapore arts community. I’m not the only one who feels that most Singapore artists are pompous, hollow art-farts of course, but there is a reason why most Singaporeans cant list a single local writer asides from Catherine Lim; and no. Singaporeans are more well-read than you think.
http://www.qlrs.com/critique.asp?id=600
I’ve just told Aaron that his review on last boy is indulging and unnecessary kind. I’ve really tried to read last boy because Yi-Sheng seems like a sweet guy and he won the Singapore Literature Prize. He claims to be a voice for the heartlanders (Kanye West anyone?) and write poems that the layman would understand so you would notice how ironic the end result is. His use of imagery is original and occasionally appropriate at times but he becomes hypnotised by the language he uses and his message becomes garbled and unfocussed. Which was sad because I was planning to buy the book that day.
What Makes A Good Poem (For My Reference But You Can Read It)
A good poem is a blind date with enchantment.
Above all, no matter what its subject matter,
it must possess perfect verbs and no superfluous
words. It must be an antidote to indifference.
The acid test is that you want to read it time and
time again, and not only to yourself. A good poem
begs to be shared with others.
J.Patrick Lewis. Freedom Like Sunlight: Praisesongs for Black Americans.
When I think of a good poem :
Many things come to mind but a few specifically: A good poem makes you feel like you’ve been there before, or want to go. A good poem takes you to the city, to the sea, to the heart of any and all matters; you see it, taste it, belong to it. A good poem is a menagerie of craft; a spinning of sound, word choice, alliteration, rhythm and often rhyme. A good poem is the arrangement of enchantment, or as J. Patrick Lewis says, a blind date with enchantment.
Rebecca Kai Dotlich. Lemonade Sun and Other Summer Poems.
For me, good poems, ones that I like to read over and over, can bring delight in many ways. Wit, word-play, unexpectedness of word and thought, depth of feeling, word-music, vivid images, the shape of the poem on the page, all bring me joy.
I think poetry should come from the heart of the writer—whether it is light and funny or deeply-felt. Caring—about the subject, the emotion, the act of making the poem—is, I believe, essential.
It seems to me a good poem can rhyme or not rhyme, use similes and metaphors or not, be metrical or free, be as complex as a Shakespeare sonnet or as seemingly simple as a statement by William Carlos Williams. It can be anything the writer wants it to be—as long as it reflects true feeling. And that “feeling” can be just the joy of using words!
Strong, accurate, interesting words, well-placed, make the reader feel the writer’s emotion and intentions. Choosing the right words—for their meaning, their connotations, their sounds, even the look of them, makes a poem memorable. The words become guides to the feelings that lie between the lines. Just-right words make the poem reverberate—and give the reader the joyful shivers!
Patricia Hubbell. Black Earth, Gold Sun.
Prose = words in their best order; Poetry = the best words in their best order”—Coleridge said it, and I believe it. Poetry IS about words—their precision, texture, beauty (and ugliness). Prose is about words, too, but not in the same way. Prose is about the bigger picture. The canvas is bigger and so are the brushstrokes. A good poem, whether narrated by a character or by the poet her/himself, uses words wonderfully, and it uses them to capture specific moments in a fresh way, a way that makes the reader exclaim with delight, “Yes, that’s it! That’s right!”
A good poem may also ask philosophical questions. In its condensed form, poetry gives these questions an immediacy, a great power to startle and grab the imagination. Poetry is great for asking—and sometimes answering—those questions that come to you just as you’re falling asleep.
Marilyn Singer. Footprints on the Roof: Poems About the Earth.
Personally, I’d say a good poem makes me see something in a new way. It’s fresh and eye-opening. And it’s also compact and intense. One of my favorite quotes about poetry is this one from Arnold Adoff: “I really want a poem to sprout roses and spit bullets; this is the ideal combination…” I think it’s partly the compactness of a poem that, if the poet has a strong vision and command of language, will let it both “sprout roses and spit bullets” at the same time. A good poem doesn’t waste words; it uses them sparingly and meaningfully.
Rebecca Davis, editor
There are at least a hundred different ways to respond to that question. Like a good poem, it says more in a few words than some novels do in three hundred pages.
But, here’s a thought I had recently about poetry:
A good poem is like medicine. It can be made up of almost anything, but only when its ingredients are put together in the right proportions–neither too much nor too little—can it affect your life.
Taking that medicine analogy even further, just a little dose of good poetry is sometimes all you need to be helped and even healed.
This, of course, ties into some very old ideas. My Abenaki ancestors said that words have power, that a song can be medicine, can restore balance, can bring back joy after sorrow. Words of power make things happen. Good poems touch that sort of power.
Joseph Bruchac. No Borders.
My answer to your question comes in part from a poem of mine called “What Is A Poem?”
What is a poem?
Hard work.
Emotion surprised.
Throwing a colored shadow.
A word that doubles back on itself, not once but twice.
The exact crunch of carrots.
Precise joys.
A prayer that sounds like a curse until it is said again.
Crows punctuating a field of snow.
Hard work.
Jane Yolen. Take Joy: A Book for Writers.
Must-Read List for 2010.
1. W.H Auden, Musee des Beaux Arts
2. W.H. Auden, In Praise of Limestone
3. James Baldwin, Sonny’s Blues
4. Samuel Beclett, Waiting for Godot (been wanting to read this for dunno how many years)
5. Beowulf
6. T. Coraghessan Boyle, Water Music, The Overcoat II, World’s End
7. Anita Brookner, Hotel du Lac
8. Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber, Nights at the Circus, Wise Children
9. Raymond Carver, Cathedral
10. Robert Coover, The Gingerbread House
11. Hart Crane, The Bridge
12. Colin Dexter, The Remorseful Day
13. Charles Dickens. Take your pick.
14. E.L. Doctorow, Ragtime
15. Lawrence Durrell, The Alexandria Quartet
16. Louise Erdrich, Love Medicine
17. William Faulkner. Take your pick.
18. Helen Fielding, Bridget Jones’s Diary
19. Henry Fielding, Tom Jones
20. Ford Madox Ford, The Good Soldier
21. John Fowles, The Magus, The French Lieutenant’s Woman.
22. Robert Frost. <3
23. William H. Gass, "The Pedersen Kid", "In the Heart of the Heart of the Country"
24. Henry Green, Blindness, Living, Party Going, Loving
25. Dashiell Hammett, The Maltese Falcon
26. Thomas Hardy, the famous ones.
27. That Nathaniel Hawthorne book.
28. Seamus Heaney, Bogland,, Clearances, North
29. Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises
30. Haha, Homer, The Odyssey.
31. Henry James. The Turn Of The Screw
32. James Joyce. Enuff said.
33. Barbara Kingslover, The Bean Trees, Pigs In Heaven, The Poisonwood Bible.
34. D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers
35. Iris Murdoch, A Severed Head, The Unicorn, The Sea, The Sea, The Green Knight
36. Tim O'Brien, Going After Cacciato, The Things They Carried
37. E.A. Poe.
38. Thomas Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49
39. Theodore Roethky, In Praise of Prairie
40. Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
41. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
42. Sophocles, Oedipus Rex
43. Sir Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queen
44. Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr Jerkll and Mr Hyde
45. Bram Stroker, Dracula
46. Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
47. Anne Tyler, Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant
48. John Updike, A&P
49. Derek Walcott, Omeros
50. Fay Weldon, The Hearts and Lives of Men
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