Sherry Chandler » So Long Understanding Poetry
So Long Understanding Poetry
Hello Poetry and Pedagogy, subtitled The Challenge of the Contemporary (Palgrave Macmillan, 2006).
I grew up with the New Criticism and actually rather enjoyed its close analysis of tropes and forms. I am, I guess, in the minority. It seems to have been, according to Barbara K. Fischer, all down to the New Criticism that poetry has been hidden away in the broom closets of English departments:
Despite sporadic resurgences, poetry has for several decades occupied a marginalized position in English departments, where fiction and popular culture have become the preferred objects of analysis. The New Criticism, with its heuristic approach to analyzing a poem’s tropes and formal construction, left a generation of students with a distaste for the seemingly clinical task of “explication”—the dreaded homework assignment. Meanwhile, New Critical aestheticism—its emphasis on the poem as a self-referential objet d’art, isolated from politics and the conditions of its making—was set up over and over again as a straw man for the arguments that comprised the revolutions in critical thinking of the 1970s through 1990s. As poststructuralists, New Historicists, and many others challenged the New Critical paradigm, they also demoted poetry as the privileged object of literary study.
Of course, Barbara Fischer isn’t the first critic to spurn Brooks & Warren. Kenneth Rexroth and those other poets of the San Francisco Renaissance weren’t so fond of them either.
And, fickle thing that I am, though I enjoyed them, I guess I won’t cry to see them go, though Robert Penn Warren is sort of considered the grandfather of Kentucky poetry. I am fast understanding that life isn’t a progress but a wheel and no idea is ever the pennacle past which no one can climb or completely discredited amd dead. Not all ideas that come back around on the wheel are wonderful ideas but that’s not exactly relevant here.
Thus, according to Fischer:
The contributors to this volume [Poetry and Pedagogy] reinstate poetry to the discussion where it belongs—not a site of lyric seclusion, but right in the midst of a complex evolution of ideas about literature and literary language, the place of literary forms in the political sphere, and the cultural weight of creative work.
…Nonetheless, as these writers propose new pedagogical paradigms suited to new poetries, they wisely resist the now-familiar oppositional stance to the New Criticism, which Harryette Mullen observes would be “flogging the ghost of a dead horse.” If any teacher of poetry today, with whatever aesthetic bent, encountered a student who had actually read Understanding Poetry, he or she would rejoice.
So neither Fischer nor the contributors to this book actually spurn Brooks & Warren. Instead they incorporate them. How very modern! And certainly I can rejoice in this approach:
The question that is posed to students throughout the examples given in this book shifts from “what does the poem mean?” to “how do we release or expose the poem’s possibilities of meaning?”
I remember my son’s experience in high school, junior English. Assigned an essay on “Stopping by Woods…”, he wrote a fine essay that took into account the structure of the poem, the word choice… Living with a poet did influence him in his thinking. But he got excited about the poem, interested in what made it work.
And then he got a failing grade on the essay because he failed to regurgitate that which the teacher had told him the poem meant: it is, in so many words, a poem about the suicidal impulse. Oh, of course, and we don’t have to think about it any more.
This incident, however, I took to be a failure of the teacher’s pedagogy, not a failure of New Critical methods. Looking at it now, I suppose I’d have to admit it was a failure of New Critical methods that had fallen into the hands of some one with no imagination or real love for poetry.
So if we can introduce a method that lets students and teachers think, I’m all for it.
Though at least one pedagogical tool mentioned in this review will never make into high school classrooms in Paris, Kentucky.
The point, however, is not that poetry needs to be dumbed down, that is, made “accessible” — though I think there might be an argument for “clarity” as defined by Claudia Emerson.
However, I think this school of pedagogy may be in opposition to Ralph Waldo Emerson’s notion of the poet as a sort of wise seer. Contrast Emerson:
The sign and credentials of a poet are, that he announces that which no man foretold.
to (I think) Alan Golding in Poetry and Pedagogy:
Any ‘I’ from whom one has something to learn must be in conversation with an unsettling mélange of ‘others.’
Someplace in here I should have said something about Language poetry but I suggest you read the whole review from the Boston Review. It’s called Into the Language Lab. I will, however, share one more nugget to which I add my amen:
Yet the editors acknowledge from the outset that “while there has been a tendency to see Lyric and Language as two groups warring over dominance, the actual picture is much more complex, full of numerous divergent poetries.”
It is in this gray and complex area that I think I find myself as a poet.
Link via Silliman’s Blog.
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5 Comments
1. Tommy replies at 4th May 2007, 1:24 pm :
I think I almost made Mrs. Dickerson biting mad at an Academic Team meet when we had a question about, “What’s this poem called?” and I completely, utterly forgot that it was called “Stopping By Woods … ” or whatever. I know I was pretty embarrassed when I found myself nattering on.
2. Robert replies at 5th May 2007, 8:45 pm :
Thanks for sharing these thoughts. In modern terms, I would rephrase, “The sign and credentials of a poet are, that he announces that which no man foretold” as, “good poets of every style and taste innovate upon language in their poems.” Actions speak louder than adverbs. Cliches water down a poem. All stuff we know from our study of writing, whether formally or informally.
While I think the turn toward language will be interesting historically as a study in pushing the envelope in a particular direction, and can be useful individually in much the same way exercising isolated muscle groups can build an overall better athlete, I don’t see it as much of a legitimate contender for dominance as its own exclusive mode. It shapes our thinking, surely. But so do exercises in metaphor and slant rhyme.
I find a certain register of abstract expressionism inscrutably dull, yet more recent work by geniuses like Tamayo seem to almost glow with an archetypal force. The turn toward language strikes me as similar to the a.e. movement in this way. In this sense, it helps redefine what we mean by “clarity” - since there is (and always has, and always will be) so much more to poetry than simply representational clarity.
Wallace Stevens, for example, is clear in his way. And, frankly, accessible - the way children love the Beatles not for their clear linear meanings and melodies but for the intangible genius to which everyone can relate. That’s what I think Emerson means by greatness. And you don’t have to write in a 19th-century style to get there. Far from it, poetry is encompassing and evolutionary.
3. sherry replies at 6th May 2007, 12:27 pm :
Hey Robert! Thanks for expanding on my rather-hastily-put-together post. I’ve had too much week-end: a reading on Friday that went late and got rowdy and then a Derby party yesterday with a right-smart surfeit of mint julep, so I was sort of distracted and in some oddly gleeful state when I put this thing together and I just realized that I inadvertently conflated Claudia Emerson with Ralph Waldo. My apologies to both those poets and to my readers. I’ve corrected that.
On the question to language or not to language, as with many of these questions, I am a veritable weathervane, blown this way and that with whatever zephyr wafts my way. I respond to such work of Bernstein and Silliman as I have read but agree that “a certain register of abstract expressionism [is] inscrutably dull.” I do need to be able to pick up some logic thread, an organizing principle, or my brain just slides off the text like an egg off a teflon skillet. But that’s true of some very traditional work also, especially when the language is archaic and involuted. Though I may be more likely to work at the older work, confident that there is a logic there that I can find. I am not always so confident of contemporary work.
Ne’ertheless, I’d say I’m more pragmatist than idealogue.
As so with this Pedagogy, I’m for anything that will draw the young into poetry and it is possible, for these “twittering” young a new paradigm is needed. On the other hand, in my julep-befuddled state yesterday I met a high school teacher who uses Billy Collins’s Poetry 180 in her classroom and says the children love it.
Odd how many people seem compelled to apologize for liking Billy Collins.
On the subject of clarity, I did find time this weekend to read the Pinsky article you mention and hope to revisit that sometime soon. Thanks for pointing me that way. I tend to avoid Slate.
4. Robert replies at 6th May 2007, 4:09 pm :
I doubt Claudia would mind being put in such company. Thanks again for your mint-scented thoughts.
5. Sherry Chandler » W&hellip replies at 10th May 2007, 9:47 am :
[...] Comments: Gin: It’s wild ginger. sherry: Thanks, Helen. It’s good to know that all diarists have their off days.sherry: Thank you, Charlie, for the poem. I urge every one to read it. Bombers and missiles did bring war a lot… Helen Losse: Love it! Helen Losse: Very nice, Sherry. I love the title. That’s what we see day after day even from those who proclaim… Robert: I doubt Claudia would mind being put in such company. Thanks again for your mint-scented thoughts. Charles W.: OLD TIRES (cold war remembered) When I was born, behind the wine-colored curtain, I filled raw lungs on… [...]
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