Kate Litterer here. I just finished up Incident at the Edge of Bayonet Woods and I have to say that the back cover's description of it as "a kind of mystery novel" was pretty apt, not necessarily because the collection had a progressive plot and denouement, but because of the character's development through Bohince's ordering for the poems. All of the collections we've read thus far told one speaker's voice (even though CWBK hosted other speakers, i.e. the Chisums, it centered on Billy's story; IEBW also hosts a few others' voices, i.e. farmhands, but centers on the speaker's story).
The speaker seems to me like a grown woman who describes her childhood through an adult's memories, using words that might not have been accessible to a young girl but are through an adult's vernacular. The use of the young girl's view of the world is instrumental to the collection, as even when the book nears its end, a tone of fear or abandonment or powerlessness exists. An example of the adult voice/child memory take place in "Landscape with Sheep and Deer", page 4:
I remember the arrhythmia of their movement
across the drenched pasture,
stuttering by my father would say.
What I'm trying to say is remote as a cloud
passing through woods, his face
in a window above the pen,
a clot of feeling. (1-7)
While the girl speaker has intense emotions of grief and pleasure, she most probably wouldn't say "arrhythmia," and the line "What I'm trying to say is [...]" makes me feel that the speaker now vividly remembers her childhood spent beside her father. This makes her loss of her father striking; she misses him tenderly and remembers many seemingly insignificant things about their life together. I agree with some who have already posted on Bohince: her diction is precise and allows her to create a tone of twistedness or grotesque discomfort, even when she discusses softer objects, like sheep or family. That precise voice and clarity of detail showed me that the speaker must be the now older, more mature daughter, and because her feelings of loss and loneliness continue to throb in the present, through the poems, I couldn't resist reading it through in one sitting to see if she finds solace.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Obadike: And then it was over.
Kate Litterer here (alias Carol Caravan). Especially after reading Shannon's carefully-worded post, I am a little smokey in regards to Obadike's collection, but not because I feel she is not a talented writer. In fact, I thought her use of epigraphs and footnotes were meaningful, and although I feel she could have used hip-hop lyrics more evidently and instrumentally to tackle questions of race and personhood, I thought those were important to her collection.
I felt that once I hit "Shook" (p. 9), Obadike pulled me into the themes of her collection, which investigate racism and womanhood, or specifically her speaker's attempt to find a place of safety and comfort both in her personhood and outwardly. I give her a lot of credit for creating a multi-faceted, multi-personalized speaker whose voices aren't quite in dialogue with one another and I feel that this poem makes obvious the plight of feeling comfortable with oneself when one wants to act in different ways. Obadike's speaker is uncomfortable in the dinner situation: "At dinner, I sit next to a woman who speaks as if hemorrhaging" and "One of me can hear a rumbling, but she can't locate it" (lines 1 and 5). The speaker's discomfort comes out when "another of [her]" begins crying violently: "She thinks they mistake / my convulsive weeping for something else" (lines 9-10). But, as the narrative speaker assures the reader, "She doesn't know I am still dry" (lines 10-11). Another speaker emerges and "wants / to protect the talking women," although "She is the weakest among me and fears / the one who shakes" (lines 16-18). Ultimately, Obadike unites her three women-selves to a voyeuristic state: "We only hear the forks on ceramic / and the murmuring at other tables" (lines 23-23). The word "murmuring" shows the reader that the speaker/s has/have not gained stability or comfort and that she/they crave to act emotionally like the fast-speaking woman in the beginning of the poem, but do not. This sense of discomfort or weakness as a female speaker reemerges in the collection.
My blog title, "And then it was over," refers to the way I felt after the last poem, "Residue." "Residue" details the speaker's relationship with her period, which, in relation to the questions of femininity and sex throughout the book, might have symbolized a sense of strength and power. But the poem only briefly allows the speaker to recognize the special, individual power she holds, first as an attraction to a "nasty boy" and then as a house for eggs. Obadike writes: "[...] I bent to witness / unused eggs leak out of me, secret / words whispered from my uterus / to no one" (lines 17-20). While the speaker's blood is an object and does hold mystical power (to create; sexually attractive to the nasty boy), it is also a private thing, something for "the bookstore bathroom toilet" and something that to be "[lost] down a foreign drain" (line 1, line 24). Reading this poem, I thought "the speaker is finally finding a sense of comfort and strength that she derives from her womanhood"...and then I turned the page and it was over.
While the book didn't completely create closure for the female speaker's sense of comfort or protection, I don't think Obadike necessarily meant for it to close up happily so the reader could say, "Right on, girlfriend!" Instead, I was left contemplating the ways that the female speaker was strong, facing racist institutions and telling about it, and bringing up women's discomforts so they could be made obvious--I had the feeling throughout this collection that the speaker was yelling with her mouth wide open but no sound was coming out (and I mean that in a good way, because obviously I, as the reader, could hear what she was saying).
I felt that once I hit "Shook" (p. 9), Obadike pulled me into the themes of her collection, which investigate racism and womanhood, or specifically her speaker's attempt to find a place of safety and comfort both in her personhood and outwardly. I give her a lot of credit for creating a multi-faceted, multi-personalized speaker whose voices aren't quite in dialogue with one another and I feel that this poem makes obvious the plight of feeling comfortable with oneself when one wants to act in different ways. Obadike's speaker is uncomfortable in the dinner situation: "At dinner, I sit next to a woman who speaks as if hemorrhaging" and "One of me can hear a rumbling, but she can't locate it" (lines 1 and 5). The speaker's discomfort comes out when "another of [her]" begins crying violently: "She thinks they mistake / my convulsive weeping for something else" (lines 9-10). But, as the narrative speaker assures the reader, "She doesn't know I am still dry" (lines 10-11). Another speaker emerges and "wants / to protect the talking women," although "She is the weakest among me and fears / the one who shakes" (lines 16-18). Ultimately, Obadike unites her three women-selves to a voyeuristic state: "We only hear the forks on ceramic / and the murmuring at other tables" (lines 23-23). The word "murmuring" shows the reader that the speaker/s has/have not gained stability or comfort and that she/they crave to act emotionally like the fast-speaking woman in the beginning of the poem, but do not. This sense of discomfort or weakness as a female speaker reemerges in the collection.
My blog title, "And then it was over," refers to the way I felt after the last poem, "Residue." "Residue" details the speaker's relationship with her period, which, in relation to the questions of femininity and sex throughout the book, might have symbolized a sense of strength and power. But the poem only briefly allows the speaker to recognize the special, individual power she holds, first as an attraction to a "nasty boy" and then as a house for eggs. Obadike writes: "[...] I bent to witness / unused eggs leak out of me, secret / words whispered from my uterus / to no one" (lines 17-20). While the speaker's blood is an object and does hold mystical power (to create; sexually attractive to the nasty boy), it is also a private thing, something for "the bookstore bathroom toilet" and something that to be "[lost] down a foreign drain" (line 1, line 24). Reading this poem, I thought "the speaker is finally finding a sense of comfort and strength that she derives from her womanhood"...and then I turned the page and it was over.
While the book didn't completely create closure for the female speaker's sense of comfort or protection, I don't think Obadike necessarily meant for it to close up happily so the reader could say, "Right on, girlfriend!" Instead, I was left contemplating the ways that the female speaker was strong, facing racist institutions and telling about it, and bringing up women's discomforts so they could be made obvious--I had the feeling throughout this collection that the speaker was yelling with her mouth wide open but no sound was coming out (and I mean that in a good way, because obviously I, as the reader, could hear what she was saying).
Failure in "Armor and Flesh"
Mendi Lewis Obadike's first book of poetry, "Armor and Flesh" is transparent in the themes it attempts to tackle - sexual and racial identity, the battle within the self between love, apathy and anger, articulation and silence. The speaker in Obadike's book is "wanting softness, but "needing hardness." I feel this book is born of trauma, and regardless of whether it is truly an autobiography, is clearly confessional in nature. This is evident not only because of the consistent use of the I, but also the nature of poems, such as "Gassed," which seem only concerned in providing a background (of life events) in which other poems can be considered, as in, the weight of a particular piece cannot survive, but this may act as something as an unconscious influence. Many of the shorter pieces in this book seem far from complete, and in fact, they act more like small connector blocks to drive home the issues of larger more complex ones. For example, "How She Figures," while yes, incredibly vague, could easily attach itself to poems considering the women of Haiti, Dominican Republic, and Caracas, or the confessional pieces involving the inability to speak, or the pieces involving racism. I think "Tug of War" works in much the same way, as a poem standing on one leg, which has no particular context, but existiing as an elaboration on other pieces. "Strategy" also applies here ("She sneezes/on the chance/someone will bless her"). When I consider that for this class, we are studying how a book is created, thematically and structurally, I see Obadike's "connectors" as immature and not quite thought out, perhaps poems which were started but never finished, yet could have been stanzas in other pieces.
It is immediately noticeable that Obedike lacks a mature and refreshing language with which to tackle these issues. There are perhaps a few lines which I might not have heard before, but certainly I have seen all of her forms before. She relies on the audience's cultural connection with her experiences, such as our knowledge of racism in the South, the Rodney King decision, a cursory knowledge of the hardship ridden lives of Haitian women, to engage us, rather than attempting to redefine our perceptions, deepen them. Also, her extensive use of the shadow poem reveals to me that she is more comfortable working with the language and form of others, rather than inventing her own (not to mention her use of song lyrics). It is a shame to me, that in trying to articulate a unique and personal experience, one which, in its human suffering and identity confusion, many could emotionally connect with, she makes little attempt to confront cliche. An amazing example of this is "Excess Makeup Reverie" where she speaks of the woman as wearing a makeup mask. Although, I am unaware of whether her work is mostly cliche, or just unoriginal, or maybe didn't go through enough revision.
This book was disappointing, but I feel I have learned, in a sense, what not to do with a book of poems. How blatant connections and language can ruin the mystery and complexity of poetry, and how shadow poems can be used as a crutch.
It is immediately noticeable that Obedike lacks a mature and refreshing language with which to tackle these issues. There are perhaps a few lines which I might not have heard before, but certainly I have seen all of her forms before. She relies on the audience's cultural connection with her experiences, such as our knowledge of racism in the South, the Rodney King decision, a cursory knowledge of the hardship ridden lives of Haitian women, to engage us, rather than attempting to redefine our perceptions, deepen them. Also, her extensive use of the shadow poem reveals to me that she is more comfortable working with the language and form of others, rather than inventing her own (not to mention her use of song lyrics). It is a shame to me, that in trying to articulate a unique and personal experience, one which, in its human suffering and identity confusion, many could emotionally connect with, she makes little attempt to confront cliche. An amazing example of this is "Excess Makeup Reverie" where she speaks of the woman as wearing a makeup mask. Although, I am unaware of whether her work is mostly cliche, or just unoriginal, or maybe didn't go through enough revision.
This book was disappointing, but I feel I have learned, in a sense, what not to do with a book of poems. How blatant connections and language can ruin the mystery and complexity of poetry, and how shadow poems can be used as a crutch.
Monday, January 26, 2009
I Don't Know...Maybe I Just Don't Like the Pictures...?
The most intriguing aspect of Ondaatje's ...Billy the Kid is his understanding of poetry. There is gong to be much debate whether or not his foray into poetry was worthwhile; however, his UNDERSTANDING of the beast is what fascinates me.
While for the most part his poetic pattern is lower-cased, three stanza, almost no articles, it fascinates me that he tries to take a turn for the nuanced in poems such as that on page 29--a mirror poem, though I'm having a hard time understanding precisely what it is that made him decide on that tactic. My problem is that there seems to be a desire for him to be a poet rather than his actually being a poet. What I mean to say is, he suffers from many poets’ plight of trying to seem poetic—through such tactics as the mirror poem on page 29.
Though I'd be lying to myself if I said his poetry superseded his prose, I would also be doing his poetry a disservice if I didn't mention his ability to create natural image. That is, he uses language that very intricately gives a tangible depiction of the sensual body, death, and fear. Poems such as that on page 11 show Ondaatje’s ability to work within image strongly and creatively: “moving across the world on horses / body split at the edge of their necks / neck sweat at eating at my jeans”. His imagery is very visceral and it leaves nothing to the imagination (thank Jah). However, that’s not to say that at times his word choice takes a turn for the campy and incredibly trite, as in the poem on page 16 when describing his ejaculation as “love juice” (which, for all those interested, is also the title of a cheesy J-Pop song). But, I have to wonder if his word choice is a product of the need to explore the indiscretion of the “Wild West” and one of its biggest heroes, Billy the Kid?
By far and away the most uninteresting aspect of the book is the use of physical images--that is, the photography. Though they are historical in terms of their attachment to the literal reading of the "Wild West", they underscore the ability of the words to do the work for themselves. There is something to say for the scrapbooking nature of the book, but I wonder if, perhaps, the use of images is nothing more than an immature poet’s way to collide literal image with lyrical image?
However, something that I'd like to explore is the use of blank picture frames at what seems to be the beginning of a new era in the character of Billy the Kid. Those moments, indicated with a square of empty space and italicized words, not only do the work of preparation. They seem to forcibly open the readers mind to something new. This image is the most important in terms of a literal picture on the page.
Whether or not the prose outshines the poetry, one thing that I almost refused to do was force meaning on the words through the images. If anything, what I can glean from this book is its attention to capturing what can only be described as the inner monologue/diary of one Mr. Billy the Kid. Though journal-esque collections come a dime a dozen, what interests me is the books refusal to answer the question of its historical relevance. The focus should be, not on the accuracy of the times, but rather the accuracy of one character's experiences and interactions.
I also see a common thread among this collection, the Lichtenberg Figures, and The Sonnets: there's most definitely a move to create collages through ideas, styles, images, etc. A poet's collection turns into his obsession, turns into his book of poetry. If that's all that we can get from Ondaatje's poetry, at least that's something fascinating, right?
While for the most part his poetic pattern is lower-cased, three stanza, almost no articles, it fascinates me that he tries to take a turn for the nuanced in poems such as that on page 29--a mirror poem, though I'm having a hard time understanding precisely what it is that made him decide on that tactic. My problem is that there seems to be a desire for him to be a poet rather than his actually being a poet. What I mean to say is, he suffers from many poets’ plight of trying to seem poetic—through such tactics as the mirror poem on page 29.
Though I'd be lying to myself if I said his poetry superseded his prose, I would also be doing his poetry a disservice if I didn't mention his ability to create natural image. That is, he uses language that very intricately gives a tangible depiction of the sensual body, death, and fear. Poems such as that on page 11 show Ondaatje’s ability to work within image strongly and creatively: “moving across the world on horses / body split at the edge of their necks / neck sweat at eating at my jeans”. His imagery is very visceral and it leaves nothing to the imagination (thank Jah). However, that’s not to say that at times his word choice takes a turn for the campy and incredibly trite, as in the poem on page 16 when describing his ejaculation as “love juice” (which, for all those interested, is also the title of a cheesy J-Pop song). But, I have to wonder if his word choice is a product of the need to explore the indiscretion of the “Wild West” and one of its biggest heroes, Billy the Kid?
By far and away the most uninteresting aspect of the book is the use of physical images--that is, the photography. Though they are historical in terms of their attachment to the literal reading of the "Wild West", they underscore the ability of the words to do the work for themselves. There is something to say for the scrapbooking nature of the book, but I wonder if, perhaps, the use of images is nothing more than an immature poet’s way to collide literal image with lyrical image?
However, something that I'd like to explore is the use of blank picture frames at what seems to be the beginning of a new era in the character of Billy the Kid. Those moments, indicated with a square of empty space and italicized words, not only do the work of preparation. They seem to forcibly open the readers mind to something new. This image is the most important in terms of a literal picture on the page.
Whether or not the prose outshines the poetry, one thing that I almost refused to do was force meaning on the words through the images. If anything, what I can glean from this book is its attention to capturing what can only be described as the inner monologue/diary of one Mr. Billy the Kid. Though journal-esque collections come a dime a dozen, what interests me is the books refusal to answer the question of its historical relevance. The focus should be, not on the accuracy of the times, but rather the accuracy of one character's experiences and interactions.
I also see a common thread among this collection, the Lichtenberg Figures, and The Sonnets: there's most definitely a move to create collages through ideas, styles, images, etc. A poet's collection turns into his obsession, turns into his book of poetry. If that's all that we can get from Ondaatje's poetry, at least that's something fascinating, right?
Billy the Kid
From only my brief past knowledge of BTK, as well as what I've discovered following a brief perusal on the Wikipedia, I find that the element of paradox strikes the very core of his mythic legend. A man who lusted for murder and the occasional Mexican sombrero should, by all conventional standards, be reviled in his cloak of infamy. This was (is) not the case for young Billy, however, whose mythical status is still adored/disputed by contemporary historians and occasionally families through oral tradition. As it is difficult for these qualities to effectively coexist, here is Ondaatje's The Collected Works of Billy the Kid which mixes historical account and multi-layered mythology through the juxtaposition of poetry and prose. The text blends a variety of perspectives in order to establish a frequently filth-laden account that feels surprisingly natural, even when considering the jarring collision that comes from stylistic shifts. I appreciate the recurrent mention of characters (as with Sally Chisum), although I felt more inclined to drink in the lack of stability in overall terms of narration; narration is probably the wrong word, but rather the sense of credible authenticity. This is much like history more broadly, cultivated from news clippings and word of mouth that eventually build legend. Take “The Kid Tells All” (81), which incorporates an account of the conflicting character traits for which the Kid stands; “I: But you were wanted for cattle rustling weren’t you?. Yes… [but] they had to practically catch me with stolen cattle in my bed.” Ondaatje occasionally facilitates this kind of humor when constructing pieces within the collection; in this case, it paints Billy as a somewhat likeable, certainly accessible, hero of sorts. The counterpoint to this argument is that he is allegedly performing this interview from jail, with the Texas Star granted rights to exclusivity. The selected images of BTK accompany the media fixation well, and Ondaatje manages to keep the focus fresh despite the relatively narrow scope of the surface subject matter. One of the poems, on page 27, utilizes a dark agenda (involving internal damage) with a strict poetic device. Through the variance in the lenses, Ondaatje’s collection provides a surprisingly deep pool for interpretation that likely makes a statement about myth in perpetuity more generally.
the ORIGINAL btk --- found here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_the_kid
The Collected Works of Billy The Kid by Michael Ondaatje is a story stooped in fantasism and legend. Ondaatje attempts to enter the mind of the American West’s most famous celebrities. Not one of Hollywood though. Rather, Ondaatje brings the reader through the life of the western frontiers greatest murderers, Billy the Kid.
The book is sprinkled with both prose and lyrical poetry. Ondaatje tries numerous different forms of writing, and often even includes pictures in order to make his case. This allows him to penetrate the minds of different types of readers, and accommodates for many different preferences. He begins a piece of prose in all italics accompanied by a “pictures”. This picture however is just a blank box, leaving the readers imagination to figure out what lies between its lines. The first line of this italicized piece of prose reads “I send you a picture of Billy…”. Right off the bat Ondaatje wishes the reader to begin picturing Billy the Kid, because from this point on it will be his task to change and alter that picture with stories from his life.
Another great example of the forms Ondaatje expresses is found on page 81 in a piece entitled “The Texas Star March 1881. The Kid Tells All: ‘Exclusive Jail Interview’”. On display here is a completely unique way of attacking the poetic form. This long question and answer session allows Ondaatje to fill the reader in on a large amount of information about Billy’s life, without ever having to say it. He lets Billy tell all, in response to questions from a reporter (who might as well be the reader). One of my favorite lines in this sequence is the interviewer’s third question asking “I: You were reported as saying, as adding, to that phrase – ‘If I make it’ when asked that question before. B: Well, sometimes I feel more confident that at others”. These lines not only made me chuckle, but also really helped capture an overall theme of the novel.
In looking at the poetry in the book verses the prose I find that they have a strong symbiotic relationship. The prose is much more story based, and we learn a lot about interactions and specific stories relating to Billy. The poetry is much vaguer, and I see it as a venue for Billy’s personally feelings to be unleashed. Less so actions and interactions going on around him, and more so thoughts and even feelings that I believe come straight from Billy himself.
Despite the books lack of consistent poetic form, I find the collage almost soothing, in that I am never bombarded with one type of interpretation. Ondaatje was able to aptly fuse two forms, without either being to constricting, or too overpowering, upon the other.
Ondaatje Response...by me!
In focusing on the formation of Michael Ondaatje’s collection, The Collected Works of Billy the Kid, I am left with both inquisitiveness and amazement at the accomplishments of the works. Ondaatje introduces his collection with an empty frame over an italicized description of an unseen picture. Initially, this opening passage filled me with curiosity. The are several references to unidentified things, “the Perry shutter,” “Pyro,” the horses, etc. The frame and caption give explanation to and represents the pictures and specimen the reader finds throughout the book both figuratively and literally. To better understand the purpose of Ondaatje’s introduction, I compared it to that of a movie introduction. If this collection were a movie, the caption would be read while soft music plays in the background as the camera spans across various pictures soon to be encountered in context. Then, the movie begins…
Following the open ended introduction, Ondaatje kicks off his collection with two different opposing poetic styles, poetry and prose. The first poem is frank with minimal detail. “These are the killed.// By me) –” It leave you with several questions, many of which are modestly addressed in the subsequent prose poem on the opposing page. These poems play off of each other in placement and content. In the prose poem, a story is explained. To reference the movie example again, the first poem would be a scene of people being killed. The audience/reader is not sure of who or why. After the violent opening scene, the story begins to unravel and we see people together (as described on page 7) while a voice narrates what’s taking place; then the actors take over….
Throughout the first part of the book, many of the poems serve as narrations. They give brief summaries of general info, while the prose offers more detailed explanations.
During the collection, Ondaatje uses several artistic devices to share the story. The prose, poetry, photographs, interviews, and captions are compiled in a way that leaves you with questions and answers at the same time. Most of the questions arising in the poetry, and being answered in the other included forms. I think the arrangement of different types of writing successfully work in keeping the reader’s attention. The switching up artistic inclusions comes just before the audience may get tired of one writing style. Ondaatje never goes more than four or five pages with the same artistic style. Even the poems have different poetic devices such as spacing (p.53), indentation (p.67), or reflection (p.27) that make each poem different in more than content.
Following the open ended introduction, Ondaatje kicks off his collection with two different opposing poetic styles, poetry and prose. The first poem is frank with minimal detail. “These are the killed.// By me) –” It leave you with several questions, many of which are modestly addressed in the subsequent prose poem on the opposing page. These poems play off of each other in placement and content. In the prose poem, a story is explained. To reference the movie example again, the first poem would be a scene of people being killed. The audience/reader is not sure of who or why. After the violent opening scene, the story begins to unravel and we see people together (as described on page 7) while a voice narrates what’s taking place; then the actors take over….
Throughout the first part of the book, many of the poems serve as narrations. They give brief summaries of general info, while the prose offers more detailed explanations.
During the collection, Ondaatje uses several artistic devices to share the story. The prose, poetry, photographs, interviews, and captions are compiled in a way that leaves you with questions and answers at the same time. Most of the questions arising in the poetry, and being answered in the other included forms. I think the arrangement of different types of writing successfully work in keeping the reader’s attention. The switching up artistic inclusions comes just before the audience may get tired of one writing style. Ondaatje never goes more than four or five pages with the same artistic style. Even the poems have different poetic devices such as spacing (p.53), indentation (p.67), or reflection (p.27) that make each poem different in more than content.
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