I finished reading a slim volume of early poetry by William Carlos Williams not long ago, and I have since decided that he was a damn fine poet.
To which the literary cognoscenti may now utter a collective: Duh! We kinda knew that one already.
Yes, but I didn’t, and half the joy of reading lies in making such discoveries.
Another admission: while I consider myself to be fairly well read, I have been sadly negligent in the poetry department. Dickens? Check. Fitzgerald? Check. Pynchon? Check. Joyce? Check. Carol Oates? Yep. Morrison? You betcha. Clancy? Unfortunately.
Dante? Um…
Clearly, my ventures into poetry have not been as extensive as my travels in fiction. Sure, I’ve caught many of the basics – the essentials, if you will. I’ve read the odd poem by Dickinson, Frost, Eliot, and Pound, among others, but I’ve rarely devoted the time necessary to read an entire volume of one poet’s work, and the number of great (or even very good) poets that I haven’t read is, I am ashamed to admit, rather staggering.
I suspect that I am far from alone.
So, a few days ago I decided to try a book of Williams’ poetry - an inexpensive Dover Thrift Edition of his early work that had been sitting on my shelf for some time.
I’m glad I picked it up.
Though he was influenced early in his writing career by his peer Ezra Pound, Williams (who lived in New Jersey) came to feel that Pound and those in Pound's immediate circle (which included T.S. Eliot) were too taken with European stylings, and that their poetry was thus at odds with the values of American readers. As a result of this conviction, Williams began to write poetry that, while ambitious, was accessible to the American reader in its language and its interests.
As I have previously noted, however, I am not an expert in poetry. There are other writers who can actually write about Williams – and poetry in general – with a degree of intelligence that would reveal my own failings, were I even to attempt further discussion of the subject.
And so, below you will find several links to articles about Williams. The first link will take you to an interview with the poet that was conducted by The Paris Review, for which your computer will need Adobe Acrobat. The second link will take you to a (very) brief bio of Williams, while the third and fourth links will take you to two of his poems. Enjoy.
http://www.theparisreview.org/viewinterview.php/prmMID/4486
http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/119
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15536
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15828
1 comment:
The poem is an unpopular form. Now more than ever. It used to be used as television shows are used now- entertainment for the family, as they sat around a fire (not to be too idyllic in this description of the past: I will mention that this fire was made out of wood that was a pain in the ass to gather, or gathered by a slave, and that half the woman's children had died before the age of 3...anyway, back to reminiscing on an age I never lived in.)
Nobody wants to read poem after poem after poem except for poets themselves. It's so intimate that it's uncomfortable after a while. Sort of like hearing a stranger's cel phone conversation, but longer, and more complicated, and requires more mental effort: it doesn't take you away or illuminate like fiction does (often) because it's so obscure and personal and hidden...
The main reason I try to avoid writing poetry as an artform, even though I love doing it...I write fiction instead.
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