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Poetry as Memoir, midpoint consideration

Saturday, May 19th, 2007 | Poetry, The Writing Life | 1 Comment

On April 28th, I began teaching a course through the Mt. Airy Learning Tree, called Poetry as Memoir. When I started, I was sure that I knew what I meant by “Poetry as Memoir” — but the question usually comes up at least once each week, so I continue to reflect and refine my definition.

I’m particularly satisfied with Wikipedia’s definition of “memoir,” particularly this bit (which may or may not be attributable to Gore Vidal, I can’t tell from the way the entry is arranged):

It is more about what can be gleaned from a section of one’s life than about the outcome of the life as a whole.

The quote makes me wonder: what actually constitutes a “section” of one’s life? How large or small of timeframe might that be? Poetry, at least much of the best poetry, is about gleaning from moments and simple details. And the old cliche is right: Life is but a series of moments. So, I suppose I see each poem as the opportunity to write a mini memoir. The most exciting part, for me, is that these mini memoirs get to defy physics. Once you’ve written enough of them, you can string the poems together to tell a larger story, only that story need not abide by the laws of the space-time continuum. This is where the gleaning comes in. The meanings of our lives, or situations within our lives, are often less dependent upon the chronological circumstances and more upon the way our memories rearrange and juxtapose long after the experiences have ended.

How many times have you been absolutely sure that the last time you saw so and so was at such and such restaurant, only to eventually realize that’s impossible?  Such and such place wasn’t built yet, or it burnt down the year before, or you’ve never actually been to such and such but the color on their sign reminds you of the shirt that so and so was wearing the last time you saw him, although you can’t quite remember where exactly that was.  Probably, where you were at the time doesn’t matter.  It’s what you said.  It’s what so and so was wearing or doing.  Whatever it was, its important enough to be triggered every time you pass by such and such restaurant.  The gleaning comes from that connection.  Maybe you would never think of so and so otherwise.  Or maybe something else would be the trigger.  In all likelihood, whatever it is would have more to do with your subconcious than anything going on the actual world of facts.

That’s why I like to think about poetry in the context of memoir — because poetry is not bound by the world of facts, even if we’re using poetry to tell personal stories. Personal stories don’t necessarily have to be factually verifiable — at least not in our world.  This doesn’t mean, however, that the stories don’t have to be true. But there’s a big difference between “actual” truth and “emotional” truth.  Was James Frey actually in jail for year, or however long he claimed? (I never read A Million Little Pieces, although I feel like I did.)  No, but it may have felt like it to him.   That’s an extreme example of emotional truth (although I’m pretty convinced that James Frey knows is just a big fat liar who thought nothing about emotional truth).  Either way, emotional truth isn’t really acceptable in the world of prose — especially in anything like a biography or memoir that claims a foothold on reality.  But in poetry - ah! - we deal almost strictly in emotional truth.  Was the car blue or orange, it doesn’t matter.  If you’re comparing your mother’s innonence to that of the virgin Mary, then the car was blue.  Period. End of sentence.  Poetry understands that details and specifics are the cornerstones of the most engaging writing, but that those details have some sort of proof to back them up?  Poetry doesn’t care about that.  Poetry wants the best details to help us understand what it all means.

It’s late and I’m rambling.  More to come later.

Friday Random Ten, “three strikes” edition

Friday, May 11th, 2007 | Music | 3 Comments

yea yea, i promise this hasn’t become a blog solely devoted to FRT, but i started a new job a few weeks ago and i’m just finally settling in to my new routine… more and better posts to come, but in the meantime, this is what i have for ya:

1. “Goodnight Elizabeth,” Counting Crows
2. “Crystal,” New Order
3. “Porcelain,” Moby
4. “Pitseleh,” Elliot Smith
5. “Rebel, Rebel,” David Bowie
6. “Radio Free Europe,” REM
7. “A Long Day,” The Polyphonic Spree
8. “No Pictures, Please,” Rod McKuen
9. “Threadbare,” South
10. “Vera,” Pink Floyd
Bonus: “Could it be I’m falling in love,” The Spinners

Yay!: 1, 6, bonus
Blech!: 7 - wtf? 37 minutes of white noise. i only let this play all the way through b/c its friday & i was filing
Seen Live: 1, 5, 6, 7, 9
Swooniest: 9 — the whole band wins, just for being british.
Most Annoying (whose music I still kinda like): 3

Loosen your hold:
howard (this ain’t no disco)
marisa (losers are the winners)
jeff (this the beginning of forever and ever)
brian (it was only a test)
ben(Oh Lord, what have i done to myself?)
rachel (the more we talk about it, only makes it worse to live without it)
kb (i have nothing to offer but confusion)

Friday Random Ten, take it or leave it edition

Friday, May 4th, 2007 | Music | 2 Comments

1. “Side by Side,” Earth, Wind & Fire
2. “Into the Fourth Dimension,” The Orb
3. “Come and Find Me,” Josh Ritter
4. “Sweet Little Duck,” Kathleen Edwards
5. “Cock/Ver 10,” Aphex Twin
6. “Almost Afternoon,” Joe Jack Talcum
7. “Beeswax,” Nirvana
8. “Color of Water,” M. Ward
9. “Young Americans,” David Bowie
10. “Simmer Down,” The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones

Yay!: eh, I’m not particularly thrilled by any of this weeks tunes
Blech!: … then again, none of them really disgust me either — I’m just sort of apathetic.
Seen live: 2, 9, 10, and 6 (if you count that Joe Jack=Joe Genaro the weeist and swooniest little imp of the Dead Milkmen)
Swooniest: see above… oh, and kurt cobain was kinda cute too.
I’d rather be listening to:
Hem or the Roadside Graves… seriously can’t get enough. Or… almost any of the other lists out there in FRT list. Mine just feels lame this week.

Everybody’s got nice stuff but me:
howard (sixteen candles down the drain)
rachel (I keep a close watch)
jeff (I wanna be a lion, eh, everybody wanna pass as cats)
brian (they’re free to fly away)
lauren (we stayed a long long time)
marisa (you lie that your life’s unappealing all the time)