Here’s an interesting “student opinion” editorial in the NY Times, by Nicole Daniels: “What Role Does Poetry Play in Your Life?” (We could even expand that to ask what role literature — or writing generally — plays in your life.) Apparently, at the morning meetings of the National Desk (of the NYT, one assumes), they start by reading a poem. There’s talk of “the magic of poetry,” of Billy Collins, of William Wordsworth: nothing that would challenge your idea of what you already think you know about the way language supposedly works — or alter the way we interact with it. But clearly writing that means something to somebody. Then the author asks a series of excellent questions:
How do you know if you like a poem? Does it make you feel certain emotions? Does it make you think about things differently in your life or in the world? Or, do you prefer silly or ironic poems that make you laugh? . . . How do you think poems can inspire us or change the way we view the world? When you experience hardship or pain, do you ever turn to poetry? Are there other art forms or creative expression that you seek out or create in difficult moments? These are variations of the perennial, very American question: Poetry?? What’s it good fer? I like poems that both make me feel emotions (certain or not) and make me think about things differently (and think different things) and make me laugh. So there. It’s the second para that interests me most: the idea that poetry can (implicitly) ameliorate hardship, pain, or difficult moments. Poetry as the opiate of the masses? Sure: why not? Better than real opiates, for sure. But I like Wallace Stevens’ definition in “Of Modern Poetry”: “The poem of the mind in the act of finding / What will suffice.” What, that is, that makes the world equal to desire, or even make life worth living? But it’s the act of finding, not the thing found. Because for Stevens, it’s a continuous process. The world is constantly changing, so our mind keeps looking. Avant-gardey people poo-poo some poetry as sentimental or sententious. More mainstream readers poo-poo avant-garde poetry as being obscure and elitist. Both are right. What suffices for one won’t for another. In these times of pandemic and epochal atmospheric alterations, let us remember that “de gustibus non disputandum est.” Whatever gets you through the night.
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June 2021
Kristin Prevallet Author/Editor
I'm a writer & teacher in Lawrence, Kansas who actually believes the scientists. I wrote a book of poems called Of Some Sky that seems to have something to do with all this. |