...even when we cannot find the words in ordinary language to say what we think or feel, poetry can come to our aid.
Full disclosure: Deirdre is my sup...even when we cannot find the words in ordinary language to say what we think or feel, poetry can come to our aid.
Full disclosure: Deirdre is my supervisor at the University of South Africa (Unisa), and we have also been friends for many years. I was cat-sitting for her last weekend while she was bundu-bashing in Makhanda (the former Grahamstown, where I completed my HDipJourn many moons ago) for a South African Poetry Project (ZAPP) event, of which she is a director.
ZAPP does incredible work in getting students from primary to high school to find confidence in themselves through the power of free verse. So much of our interaction with language and books at a school level is rule (and hide) bound, so it is extremely liberating for scholars to discover the playfulness, joy, and power of words.
After reading this book, I have to say it is not only students, but adults like me as well. The incredibly evocative ‘The Lives of the Heart’, quoted in full, is followed by a couple of pages of discussion that asks more questions than it answers. Back in my day, such a poem would have been flogged to within an inch of its life to surrender its ‘meaning’.
Looking at an extraordinary poet like Jane Hirshfield through a Zen lens leads to the equally extraordinary conclusion that ‘meaning’ is entirely conditional. Also, if you do not understand or struggle with a poem, it is neither a failure on the part of the poet or the reader. Rather focus on the experience of reading itself than on interpretation as the end goal.
So, this remarkable book does many things at once: it introduced me to a poet I knew nothing about; it fortified my own understanding and joy of poetry and how best to approach it as a reader; it stressed the importance of poetry as a form of activism and engagement with the current (post)colonial world. It also does an incredible job of explaining the basic tenets of Zen – which, for an “approach to reality” that is experiential, sure has a lot of complicated jargon attached to it (that is a Zen joke.)
As I understand it from this book, Zen denies a permanent self (anātman) and instead stresses emptiness (śūnyatā) and non-duality. Zen’s idea of “suchness” (tathatā), referring to the direct, unmediated experience of reality, is in direct opposition to Western ontology. Zen, by default, resists ontological categorisation, as it is a direct practice of being rather than a theory.
It is a tricky balancing act to juggle poetry and Zenness, especially with verse as open-ended as it is obtuse. Hirshfield writes about death, nature, ageing, and desire with equal passion and pain. It makes for some incredibly powerful and disquieting writing that jolts the reader out of their frame of reference into an intimate awareness of their own, and the world’s, ephemerality.
The authors succeed magnificently in a truly difficult project (the book is an extension of a joint article they authored.) Both are practising poets, but from very different academic backgrounds: Deirdre is a Professor of English Studies and Garth is an Associate Professor of Religious Studies and Arabic, both at Unisa.
Wisely, they allow the poetry to do the heavy lifting. I felt myself reading all the extracts aloud, simply to savour Hirshfield’s words, phrasing, and rhythms. The authors’ deep love for their own academic specialities, combined with their passion for poetry in general, and their affection and admiration for Hirshfield especially, comes blazing forth in the writing. Simple, direct, to the point, the reader is gently taken by the hand on an extraordinary journey of self-discovery by examining the work of an ‘obscure’ poet.
Once a teacher, always a teacher, even if you are a professor, and the authors are equally adept at effortlessly conveying the nuances of a Zen topic as they are at parsing some of Hirshfield’s poems, the shortest of which is two words (I won’t tell you what they are; you will have to read it for yourself.)
Apart from its instructional value, the book is a considerable academic achievement, as it is the first scholarly work dedicated to the art and craft of Hirshfield, a North American Zen poet who, incredibly, spent eight years in a Buddhist retreat.
The book ranges widely across Hirshfield’s nature and Zen poetry, although she has never labelled herself as such, just as Margaret Atwood has resisted the label of speculative fiction and Nnedi Okorafor the label of Afrofuturism. It is a Western predilection by which labelling implies control as opposed to true understanding.
What fascinated me is Hirshfield’s affinity for science. Indeed, she asserts: “The work of a poet and the work of a scientist share many things.” When in January 2017 the Trump administration effectively removed ‘climate change’ from political and public discourse, a bunch of scientists marched to the White House in protest, with Hirshfield curating an exhibition of banners by poets. She has written about Reagan and the Gulf War; I am sure she has a few choice words in store for Trump’s legacy.
A beautiful touch is the frontispiece sketch of Hirshfield by Elaine Rose Thomas. My only quibble is that I would have loved a brief bio, even at the end, but sufficient tidbits are scattered throughout to gain a sense of this remarkable poet’s life journey, where she “has lived for years in sight of Mount Tamalpais and with a desire to make a difference to the world.”
So, to anybody who says they do not understand poetry (or Zen), best to give them a copy of this excellent book. A perfect fusion of scholarly analysis and general education about the “solace of poetry” (what a resonant phrase) and the immanence of Zen, I am sure it is going to introduce Hirshfield to an entirely new generation of readers. And maybe make a curious person or two decide to read some other poetry. That is a true celebration of this incredibly gifted poet and national (well, global) treasure. ...more
Turns out that goodness is often light-sensitive. Turns out that darkness leaves all of its windows open and makes lullaby out of everything. Turns ouTurns out that goodness is often light-sensitive. Turns out that darkness leaves all of its windows open and makes lullaby out of everything. Turns out there’s a duality in everything
I would definitely recommend reading the ‘Author’s Note’ first, as Brandon O’Brien gives a very moving and well-considered account of how he came to ‘embrace’ the work of generally-not-a-nice person HP Lovecraft, whose numerous endearing qualities included having a cat named ‘Nigger-Man’ (catnip for meme makers on social media, of course).
Still, O’Brien notes that Lovecraft is “one of science fiction’s most well-known authors”, “an otherwise talented and creative hand in the genre, and we credit him on the expansion of an entire subgenre mythos that science fiction and horror still reveres to this day.” He points out: “The conversation is a challenging, bitter thing.”
Instead of erasing Lovecraft from the genre’s collective memory, O’Brien points to the highly potent “deliberate reimaginings” of Victor LaValle (‘The Ballad of Black Tom’) and Matt Ruff (‘Lovecraft Country’). It is clear that ‘Can You Sign My Tentacle?’ falls into this category of contemporarising and re-energising Lovecraft for the ‘new world’.
But just as we have monuments like the Yad Vashem World Holocaust Remembrance Centre in Jerusalem as a cautionary reminder of the depravity of humanity, O’Brien’s poems also indicate that Lovecraft should be both a reminder and a warning.
He states that “Science fiction is a radical genre, but that fact is a neutral one.” One just has to recall the Rose Tico backlash sparked by The Last Jedi and the Sad Puppies right-wing anti-diversity voting campaign at the Hugos to realise how the spirit of Lovecraft, unrepentant and unreformed, is very much alive in our supposedly enlightened genre and world. Live long and prosper my ass, especially if you’re black or gay in the wrong part of the planet.
The wonderful title and cover art made me think that this would be some Rocky Horror Picture Show ‘Monster Mash’, but this is a surprisingly diverse, quite dark and often really lovely collection of poems that will stay with you for a long time. I suspect not all of them will speak to everybody’s lived experience, but anything that manages to combine Cthulhu with hip hop has to be pretty fucking fantastic in my book.
My personal favourites:
because who she is matters more than words The Metaphysics of a Wine, in Theory and Practice time, and time again drop some amens
Merged review:
Turns out that goodness is often light-sensitive. Turns out that darkness leaves all of its windows open and makes lullaby out of everything. Turns out there’s a duality in everything
I would definitely recommend reading the ‘Author’s Note’ first, as Brandon O’Brien gives a very moving and well-considered account of how he came to ‘embrace’ the work of generally-not-a-nice person HP Lovecraft, whose numerous endearing qualities included having a cat named ‘Nigger-Man’ (catnip for meme makers on social media, of course).
Still, O’Brien notes that Lovecraft is “one of science fiction’s most well-known authors”, “an otherwise talented and creative hand in the genre, and we credit him on the expansion of an entire subgenre mythos that science fiction and horror still reveres to this day.” He points out: “The conversation is a challenging, bitter thing.”
Instead of erasing Lovecraft from the genre’s collective memory, O’Brien points to the highly potent “deliberate reimaginings” of Victor LaValle (‘The Ballad of Black Tom’) and Matt Ruff (‘Lovecraft Country’). It is clear that ‘Can You Sign My Tentacle?’ falls into this category of contemporarising and re-energising Lovecraft for the ‘new world’.
But just as we have monuments like the Yad Vashem World Holocaust Remembrance Centre in Jerusalem as a cautionary reminder of the depravity of humanity, O’Brien’s poems also indicate that Lovecraft should be both a reminder and a warning.
He states that “Science fiction is a radical genre, but that fact is a neutral one.” One just has to recall the Rose Tico backlash sparked by The Last Jedi and the Sad Puppies right-wing anti-diversity voting campaign at the Hugos to realise how the spirit of Lovecraft, unrepentant and unreformed, is very much alive in our supposedly enlightened genre and world. Live long and prosper my ass, especially if you’re black or gay in the wrong part of the planet.
The wonderful title and cover art made me think that this would be some Rocky Horror Picture Show ‘Monster Mash’, but this is a surprisingly diverse, quite dark and often really lovely collection of poems that will stay with you for a long time. I suspect not all of them will speak to everybody’s lived experience, but anything that manages to combine Cthulhu with hip hop has to be pretty fucking fantastic in my book.
My personal favourites:
because who she is matters more than words The Metaphysics of a Wine, in Theory and Practice time, and time again drop some amens...more
Coming to terms with being gay, and the death of an estranged brother, and the impact of both on family dynamics, all set in a series of homophobic, pComing to terms with being gay, and the death of an estranged brother, and the impact of both on family dynamics, all set in a series of homophobic, patriarchal, and violent US-Mexico border towns, might seem too much for a slim volume like this to bear. But these poems are exquisite, hefting their weight of grief and sensuality with tenderness, beauty, love, and rage (often all combined). [If you are interested in the technicalities of poetry, check out the Poetry Foundation review, which explores Amparán's syllabics, delicate imagery, and use of the imploded villanelle, which 'accelerates traditional refrains through the use of vertical line breaks.']...more
I don't think I've ever given a book of poetry one star before, but this was really not for me. A maudlin collection of half-baked, Oprah-esque platitI don't think I've ever given a book of poetry one star before, but this was really not for me. A maudlin collection of half-baked, Oprah-esque platitudes. More a self-indulgent self-help manual than anything else....more
'It is time to write. It is not time to write, Though one time, I am told, is as good As any time, right now as good as any now.'
Fuck, this pulverised'It is time to write. It is not time to write, Though one time, I am told, is as good As any time, right now as good as any now.'
Fuck, this pulverised me. I read it during a single two-hour loadshedding bout in South Africa, where language, race, hegemony, decolonial deconstruction, and the role of the Omniscient Narrator in any art form is a complex intersection of privilege and the capacity to wield Western modes of knowledge production in the (reductive) service of a lone voice, in the language of Empire.
My synapses are still reverberating. Poetry has to be the most lacerating, epiphanic, intimate, embracing, confrontational, and quietly revolutionary art form out there....more
The youth remind me with firework spectacle: decolonization is not an abstract theory. See: The soldier with a stone in his fascist face. The colonizeThe youth remind me with firework spectacle: decolonization is not an abstract theory. See: The soldier with a stone in his fascist face. The colonizer car in flames. Surveillance cameras smashed. “Checkpoints” emptied out of their gatekeepers. I stand in awe of the hail.
'Everyone comes into the world with a job to do— I don’t mean working for a company, a corporation— we were all given gifts to share, even the animals'Everyone comes into the world with a job to do— I don’t mean working for a company, a corporation— we were all given gifts to share, even the animals, even the plants, minerals, clouds . . . all beings.'
Extraordinary jazz-infused poetry collection about identity, belonging, memory, heritage, and colonial erasure that sings as much at it cuts....more
I was fascinated by the combination of technical mastery and raw emotion. In an interview with Happy:
'I don’t normally engage with forms, but this colI was fascinated by the combination of technical mastery and raw emotion. In an interview with Happy:
'I don’t normally engage with forms, but this collection is a departure in that sense—focused as it is so much on grief and the repetitive, relentless nature of trauma, I turned to the constraints of forms like Jericho Brown’s Duplex, and Marwa Helal’s The Arabic, as well as American sonnets, sapphic stanzas, hell I have even a sestina in there and I hate sestinas usually. I used mirror forms, iambic pentameter, and anagram poetics, in addition to the lyric free verse and prose poems you might expect from me. All of it is reflective of my hopeless attempt to escape the trap of language, to turn it inside out, to circle obsessively what animates me most: love, of course, and loss.'...more
The Penguin Little Black Classics, while a great idea, are often hit or miss. This is a decidedly odd Dante primer, a selection of ten Cantos from ParThe Penguin Little Black Classics, while a great idea, are often hit or miss. This is a decidedly odd Dante primer, a selection of ten Cantos from Paradiso only (the 2007 Robin Kirkpatrick translation). Not my favourite part of the The Divine Comedy anyway; more divinity than comedy. I do think an introduction essay would help for context, and also guide the reader to pursue the fuller text in the larger Penguin Classics series....more
our most fragile Earth, stretching into the universe hallowed be Thy Existence let us hail Thee as a Kingdom let us protect Thee Thy complete surface our most fragile Earth, stretching into the universe hallowed be Thy Existence let us hail Thee as a Kingdom let us protect Thee Thy complete surface as we should Thy depths You give us each day our daily light, tempered water, photosynthesis and bread but our pollution Thou cannot forgive nor our abuse and destruction of each other lead us into the temptation to love Thee above all else to deliver Thee from all purulent disgrace for Thine is this place in the universe and its power, its abundance and delightful equilibrium for ever and ever
When those who are left standing, or can afford time for reflection try to understand how we lived two hundred years from now, and try to plumb thPROPHECY
When those who are left standing, or can afford time for reflection try to understand how we lived two hundred years from now, and try to plumb the depths of our utter folly,
will even one of them (tired perhaps of mapping the inevitable processes of history) try to imagine how it felt for two people to love another in such a world?
'What I want you to know is that we’re okay. Hurting but okay. We’re surviving, though it’s true, we don’t know what that means, exactly.'
Choi ('Soft Sc'What I want you to know is that we’re okay. Hurting but okay. We’re surviving, though it’s true, we don’t know what that means, exactly.'
Choi ('Soft Science') extends her range with a hard-hitting, urgent collection that focuses attention on endemic social problems. A difficult and often painful reading experience. It is equally a plea for awareness and empathy as it is a call for collective action and outrage. Can poetry change the world at all? Well, it starts with poets of this calibre....more