Speaking of Herpes: Something that Really Sucks
I'm supposed to be writing up my African Philosophy presentation on Communism vs Communitarianism (the second part of a three-parter on African Politics), but I had to say that somethings sucks.
What sucks?
Heads Up: Publishing Matters of the Mind. A Queen's University funded, student run collection of short stories and poems, and one image.
I don't profess to be a great writer, but I really think that if a publication is going to be this childish, it should at least be funny. I flipped to the middle of the booklet, and the first poem I read, "Undone" by Anna Maxymiw, really annoyed me:
undone.
maybe once we were raveled too tight.
now
we spew out brokenness and disorders like
compliments on bright blue eyes.
alienation.
it makes sense that
once, we were wholesome
and now
we should be able to create ourselves
back to complete
no disorders plaguing us.
to be bleak.
it is very grey here
unlike the lush tropicana full-bodied palette of my summer
it is very grey here
and in the libraries
the air rushes out of the mechanized vents
the air blocks our breath
it is very grey here
it is making me come
undone (Glozman, 11).
Words and phrases that piss me off in this poem include two instances of "undone," "raveled too tight," the entire second stanza, "alienation," most of the fourth stanza, "to be bleak," three repetitions of "it is very grey here," "mechanized vents," and the entire poem.
I might just be completely desensitized to depressing literature, but I can't really tell the point of this poem. Is university life finally getting to Maxymiw? But how is university life any more difficult than life at home? People who have a difficult time here usually had a difficult time in high school, and people who enjoy university usually enjoy life in general. Maybe she just doesn't like winter and writes a poem about it every year.
But the booklet has a few redeeming qualities. I like that there's an avenue for students to express themselves to the world--although I'd say they already have that with the internet. Natalie A Stechyson single-handedly changed my overall opinion of the booklet with her poem "The Wellington Street Outpatient:"
Old wheels groan with exhaustion;
the pedals are weary
with stiffness and pain,
their joints are streched tenderly,
patiently, by their caregiver.
Sitting atop that seat
with mannequin posture,
looking at no one,
willing his friend to carry him
one more block and back again.
He doesn't talk except when he screams,
pleading with demons, swearing,
assaulting the concrete.
The neighbors don't look from their papers
as they have grown tender for the man
in crumpled coveralls and a cap:
stray hairs like fine white wires
poking out of his neck
as he coaxes his rusted reprieve
one more block and back again.
The sun whispers on his bony shoulders;
he passes the parade of briefcases
and sandwiches in ziploc bags,
the moan of the wheels overpowering
the clicking of corporate shoes.
No one dares break the trance,
the timid calm in those weathered eyes,
so no one says hello
as he determinedly pedals
just one more block and back again (Glozman, 8).
You see, poetic devices such as free verse and metaphor and such aren't enough to create a good poem. A poem's goodness is in its content; how that poem is delivered is only secondary to what the poem says. Too often we're stuck with the same old themes of depression, despair, heartache, etc. that lend nothing to the poem except a tired sort of familiarity. This familiarity might be appealing to people who aren't used to seeing it in writing--teenagers, more often than not--but for everyone else a thought-provoking poem is more welcome than a familiar one. It is not enough to be have an unconventional style to be thought-provoking. WHO IS THE WELLINGTON STREET OUTPATIENT?!?!?
But what do I know? I'm only almost 21. WOO! This post almost turned into a serious critique of Canadian literature. WOO!
Take care and nobi,
Andrew
P.S. Correction: there are more images. I think there is a total of two. One is KINDA a poem, so I'll stick with one out of spite.
Glozman, Jenny and Laura Paret, eds. Heads Up: Publising Matters of the Mind. Anna Maxymiw.
"Undone." Natalie A. Stecyson. "The Wellington Street Outpatient." Kingston: P&CC, 2007. 8, 11.
That should cover my ass. I can't bother to see if that's the correct form of citation.
What sucks?
Heads Up: Publishing Matters of the Mind. A Queen's University funded, student run collection of short stories and poems, and one image.
I don't profess to be a great writer, but I really think that if a publication is going to be this childish, it should at least be funny. I flipped to the middle of the booklet, and the first poem I read, "Undone" by Anna Maxymiw, really annoyed me:
undone.
maybe once we were raveled too tight.
now
we spew out brokenness and disorders like
compliments on bright blue eyes.
alienation.
it makes sense that
once, we were wholesome
and now
we should be able to create ourselves
back to complete
no disorders plaguing us.
to be bleak.
it is very grey here
unlike the lush tropicana full-bodied palette of my summer
it is very grey here
and in the libraries
the air rushes out of the mechanized vents
the air blocks our breath
it is very grey here
it is making me come
undone (Glozman, 11).
Words and phrases that piss me off in this poem include two instances of "undone," "raveled too tight," the entire second stanza, "alienation," most of the fourth stanza, "to be bleak," three repetitions of "it is very grey here," "mechanized vents," and the entire poem.
I might just be completely desensitized to depressing literature, but I can't really tell the point of this poem. Is university life finally getting to Maxymiw? But how is university life any more difficult than life at home? People who have a difficult time here usually had a difficult time in high school, and people who enjoy university usually enjoy life in general. Maybe she just doesn't like winter and writes a poem about it every year.
But the booklet has a few redeeming qualities. I like that there's an avenue for students to express themselves to the world--although I'd say they already have that with the internet. Natalie A Stechyson single-handedly changed my overall opinion of the booklet with her poem "The Wellington Street Outpatient:"
Old wheels groan with exhaustion;
the pedals are weary
with stiffness and pain,
their joints are streched tenderly,
patiently, by their caregiver.
Sitting atop that seat
with mannequin posture,
looking at no one,
willing his friend to carry him
one more block and back again.
He doesn't talk except when he screams,
pleading with demons, swearing,
assaulting the concrete.
The neighbors don't look from their papers
as they have grown tender for the man
in crumpled coveralls and a cap:
stray hairs like fine white wires
poking out of his neck
as he coaxes his rusted reprieve
one more block and back again.
The sun whispers on his bony shoulders;
he passes the parade of briefcases
and sandwiches in ziploc bags,
the moan of the wheels overpowering
the clicking of corporate shoes.
No one dares break the trance,
the timid calm in those weathered eyes,
so no one says hello
as he determinedly pedals
just one more block and back again (Glozman, 8).
You see, poetic devices such as free verse and metaphor and such aren't enough to create a good poem. A poem's goodness is in its content; how that poem is delivered is only secondary to what the poem says. Too often we're stuck with the same old themes of depression, despair, heartache, etc. that lend nothing to the poem except a tired sort of familiarity. This familiarity might be appealing to people who aren't used to seeing it in writing--teenagers, more often than not--but for everyone else a thought-provoking poem is more welcome than a familiar one. It is not enough to be have an unconventional style to be thought-provoking. WHO IS THE WELLINGTON STREET OUTPATIENT?!?!?
But what do I know? I'm only almost 21. WOO! This post almost turned into a serious critique of Canadian literature. WOO!
Take care and nobi,
Andrew
P.S. Correction: there are more images. I think there is a total of two. One is KINDA a poem, so I'll stick with one out of spite.
Cited Sources
Glozman, Jenny and Laura Paret, eds. Heads Up: Publising Matters of the Mind. Anna Maxymiw.
"Undone." Natalie A. Stecyson. "The Wellington Street Outpatient." Kingston: P&CC, 2007. 8, 11.
That should cover my ass. I can't bother to see if that's the correct form of citation.
Labels: Canada, communitarianism, death, Heads Up, Herpes, lame, more herpes, poems, Queen's University
posted by Andrew Fassett at
4:11 PM
1 Comments:
Does there have to be a point to poetry? I don't know the answer to this question - I'm not being facetious, just trying to shock you a little bit into not being so derisive. Think about it. Whenever I immerse myself in Eliot I feel bewildered - yet he is my favourite poet. Yeates blathers on about lapis lazuli - but that man could turn a phrase like none other.
Hi Andrew. I am Anna Maxymiw. Use my first name when you refer to me in articles. Fascinatingly enough, you were my first flame review. I am excited in a way - if nobody is talking about you, be it bad or good or all the shit in between, then you are not worth talking about. You make me want to defend myself but more than that, talk to you.
I had a fabulous highschool career. My memories from that time were some of the best in my life - next to university, of course. Every year here at Queen's gets better and better with the people I continue to meet. And I do believe that university life greatly differs from life at home - you expand in ways that are only available to you when you live in a rickety house with five other girls and one bathroom, or when you are tucked away alone behind stacks of books.
Maybe I was just unlucky enough to be the first poem you read or the poem in the centerfold. Maybe you genuinely hate my writing - I can't blame you for that. Maybe you're sick of Queen's kids and the cookie-cutter brat category they often fall into - I especially don't blame you for that. We all have moments - weak, "grey" - whatever. I chose to document it. I chose to not go anonymous and to put my weak grey shit out there. I will not condemn you for the bad review - authors and writers who do that are bogus and angry and not well respected. I only wish you had posted a contact page somewhere on all of your various websites so I could have properly talked to you.
But maybe you can properly talk to me. anna_max@hotmail.com. I'm offering it to you because I crave feedback - in all forms. Dare to read other poems of mine and see if your mindset changes at all.
And for the record - you're dead on with at least one thing.
I don't like winter.
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