sus

Moderator
I suppose it's not inconceivable that I could enjoy ginsberg if I was in the right mood, maybe with a few beers inside me.

i have mixed feelings about american poetry in general though, and I'm not really very coherent about it, cos I love Whitman and O'Hara, similarly artless as luka was describing it. Maybe you should start a thread about it.
 

Benny Bunter

Well-known member
'One comes across passages, even in very fine English poets, which makes one think: "Yes, very effective, but does he believe what he is saying?": in American poetry such passages are extremely rare.'

- W.H. Auden
 
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version

Well-known member
Another accusation I've read Luke toss at the Americans, specifically DeLillo and Malick, is one of bathos.
 
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version

Well-known member
The "self-conscious American voice" that came up when @sus posted a line from Bellow a while back can grate. The lumbering, earnest self-mythologising. I struggled with Algren because of this. Everything was written in what felt like a caricature of an American voice, like one of those Looney Tunes episodes where Daffy Duck's a hardboiled detective.

 

Benny Bunter

Well-known member
Why I Am Not a Painter

I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a painter, but I am not. Well,

for instance, Mike Goldberg
is starting a painting. I drop in.
“Sit down and have a drink” he
says. I drink; we drink. I look
up. “You have SARDINES in it.”
“Yes, it needed something there.”
“Oh.” I go and the days go by
and I drop in again. The painting
is going on, and I go, and the days
go by. I drop in. The painting is
finished. “Where’s SARDINES?”
All that’s left is just
letters, “It was too much,” Mike says.

But me? One day I am thinking of
a color: orange. I write a line
about orange. Pretty soon it is a
whole page of words, not lines.
Then another page. There should be
so much more, not of orange, of
words, of how terrible orange is
and life. Days go by. It is even in
prose, I am a real poet. My poem
is finished and I haven’t mentioned
orange yet. It’s twelve poems, I call
it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery
I see Mike’s painting, called SARDINES.

- Frank O’Hara
 

Benny Bunter

Well-known member
Thats why i said im incoherent in my opinions about american poetry cos i like o hará for some reason but it is totally ridiculous
 

Benny Bunter

Well-known member
Wcw faux folksey voice is hortific too whilecwe're at it
Gee whiz i sure love plums

I haven't read enough of wcw to have formed an opinion on it, bit i've liked some things i've read. Not the plums and the wheelbarrow though.

Apparently he really hated ts eliot for being a traitor and going off to england and becoming a proper englishman
 

Mr. Tea

Let's Talk About Ceps
David Foster Wallace inherited some of it from him too. Goofy American informality.
Used by extremely erudite men to ironically point out how much they don't care about their own erudition (before launching into a disquisition on the parallels between Greek tragedy and volume integrals or somesuch).
 

luka

Well-known member
The stars burned with a terrible outlay of energy. Read-outs suggest there is only a 23% probability that it was the original musk you were talking to
But that means
Yes in all likliehood
The quantum field is spongiform in stellar quadrant 6 for the rock-drill to bore through there
It's a hot knife through butter
Precisely
We wont even catch their vapour trail
 

luka

Well-known member
The boss says dont trouble him till next tuesday
Has he left instructions
Full speed ahead
And if we hit a snag
We must not hit a snag. Hes at the course.
 
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