How to Read a Poem, Edward Hirsch

Recently I heard an NPR report that poetry had been given a new life and new popularity with the internet, with YouTube, public readings, poetry slams, and even apps (yes, I love the app from Poetry magazine).  Years ago, as an English major in college, I read numerous books and reviews that discussed poetry almost as if it were some sort of rare earth or a tarnished but cherished antique, appreciated only by the few.  In How to Read a Poem, Edward Hirsch celebrates the lyric poem as if it were a compelling song, an ode to life itself, a toast to the ecstasy and sorrow of the world.
The lyric poem is the poem of the song, with rhythm kept on the lyre, and words wrung from the heart.  It is of course the same word, lyric, we use for the words of a song and with the same purpose: to heighten and deepen the emotional experience.  No critic I read in those years of college expressed a greater emotional attachment to poetry than Hirsch, who relates not just the construction of the poem itself, but of his powerful reaction to it.  
Hirsch says that at the most critical level, the lyric poem depends on metaphor.  It is as if we really cannot explain a deep human emotion with ordinary words but must turn to symbolic language.  A poem is a song, a poem is ship on the ocean of time, the first cry of a newborn child, the smile of a grandmother, the long shadow of an Autumn evening, a minuet and a dirge.  
This book is particularly useful in its examination of the poetry of Europe and the South American poets.  The author introduced me to the “Postcards” of Miklos Radnoti, the final one, so tragic, written as he takes his last painful steps toward execution and found in his cloak next to his heart.  His love of Pablo Neruda and his affecting response to this poetic master is fresh and delightful. The erudite Robert Graves claimed that the metrics of Anglo-Saxon poetry (the topic of my Master’s thesis) was sung with the rhythms of the oar in water.  
He helped me understand Wallace Stevens, always somewhat recondite yet captivating.  Hirsch makes obvious his great love for Walt Whitman who loved America so well and the American people that he left us with a body of work that speaks to the unique soul of the people of the New World. The love for poetry of Hirsch is inspiring and he subtitles How the Read a Poem as …And Fall in Love with Poetry.  Certainly Edward Hirsch, and I suppose his readers, are deep in that love. 

The Life You Save May Be Your Own, Paul Elie. 2003

When I was a Graduate Teaching Assistant in the English Department (Miserable Job # 24 maybe, but really miserable), one of the assigned stories was Flannery O’Connor’s A Good Man is Hard to Find.  The students found the story disturbing as I always did.  Undoubtedly O’Connor meant to discomfit the story readers and force them, as if by gunpoint, to examine their lives and perhaps to save it from a life unexamined and in the dark.  The misfits in her stories were dragged up from her own discomfit in her parochial South and her personal torment.

Along with Walker Percy, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, all Catholic writers of the 1950s and 1960s, Flannery O’Connor and her life and work are examined in a history and biography of the four seekers of salvation, Paul Elie’s The Life You Save May Be Your Own.  Perhaps none really found it, but their search became the common currency of the turbulent times where American attitudes toward war, religion, race, and power were in turbulence.  The Life You Save May Be Your Own looks at the major writing of these four literary and social change agents.  This is not traditional literary criticism, certainly not the critical outlook that dismisses the life of the writer as unimportant to the work.  Rather, the social milieu and the very personal lives of each of the writers is examined with a sharp eye.  Passing through the lives of the four writers and brought into focus in this book are many of the thoughtful and prominent religious and social activists of the age.  In some way these writers knew, influenced and were affected by the Dalai Lama, Mother Theresa, the Berrigan Brothers,  Pope John XXIII, Shelby Foote, Evelyn Waugh, as well as the civil rights workers, beat poets, peace activists, hippies, poverty workers, and other social advocates of change.  Mostly, as all four taught us, change always comes from within.

Charles Dickens and the Great Theatre of the World, Simon Callow, 2012

His audiences would sob uncontrollably, laugh with abandon, and sometimes gawk in rapt wonder and all this after fighting for admission like rock star fans, lining up by the thousands long before daybreak.  Charles Dickens was not only the most celebrated writer and social activist of his era; he was a supreme actor, public reader, storyteller, and showman.  The iconic A Christmas Carolwas performed hundreds of times, along with memorable scenes from his novels and stories.  He wrote, co-wrote and acted in dramas and comedies and readings attended by the elite and poor and even the royalty and artists of Europe.  Queen Elizabeth told him of her adulation dating from her teenage years reading Oliver Twistand later, she was moved deeply by his acting in The Frozen Deep, a three-hankie melodrama.  In America, a late in life reading tour was mobbed, and Dickens was feted and nearly worshipped, and, at long last, forgiven for his snarky criticism from his first American tour in American Notes and in episodes in Martin Chuzzlewit.
Simon Callow, familiar to many as the actor who played Gareth in Four Weddings and a Funeral, wrote this biography which is focused on Dickens on the stage.  The furious life and frantic personality of Dickens was portrayed as a dominating presence in the theater that seemed to be the real center of Dickens’ life.  Actors and critics loved his performances, and many of his astounding characters, with names right out of morality plays, were portrayed, amended, and brought to life by Dickens himself.  Dickens, who put his entire outsized personality into his stage presence, believed in the power of performance and even dabbled in Mesmerism and magic and mysterious events like the portrayal of a self-combustion in Bleak House.  Like Mark Twain after him, he was equally loved for performance as for writing and even now, Dickens’ work is the stuff of hundreds of movies, plays, musicals, readings, by amateurs and professionals alike, including Simon Callow, who looks for all the world like Dickens himself.

Blink, Malcolm Gladwell, 2005

In Blink, and in earlier The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell celebrates the small, the little clues that we all see but rarely notice, that should lead us to a sound conclusion.  According the Gladwell, we should trust the intuitive, the flash of insight, the first glance, the nonverbal, the insights in the thin-sliced verdict. 
When it comes to nonverbal signals sent by speakers, or liars, or lovers, the evidence is overwhelming that we may not be able to explain the messages, but we all get them.  They teach us more than words can, and, as in the case of the shooting of Amadou Diallao, ignoring the unspoken signs can lead to terrible consequences.  Extreme stress, fear, and the pressure of time blind us to the obvious.
Often enough, we do react, and often badly, to unconscious prejudices about race, and color and even height.  Gladwell shows through simple, verified experiments in judgments of people that such tests demonstrate we all make snap and subtle decisions based on deeply ingrained preconceptions.  Gladwell himself tested positive on these, showing a moderate preference for whites even though he says, “I’m half black,” from the side of his mother, a Jamaican.
The case of the kouros, a fake statue that convinced experts after extensive examination that it was genuine begins the book.  Gladwell shows how the first take, the quick insight of experts told a different story but the Getty Museum wanted desperately to have a genuine kouros and failed to trust that thin-sliced first glance.  In this case, as well as in the discussion of the marriage relationship experts, the author seems to argue, unconvincingly, that the unconscious judgments are better and more trustworthy than close and careful consideration.  This argument of Gladwell tries to convince us that, in some important cases, the magical insights of intuition are superior to the careful and systematic examination of evidence.  It is simply not to be believed.  However, this book presents a fascinating and overwhelming demonstration that the little blinks of insight and discovery are enormously important, that the language of the nonverbal can be learned, and that it is important that we do so. 

Einstein, Walter Isaacson Simon & Schuster, 2007

I wonder what it would have been like for a Princeton undergrad to ride back to school on the Dinky and find himself seated next to Albert Einstein or to see him seated at the corner ice cream store on Nassau Street where he would stop on his walk home.  Einstein would walk daily to his office chatting with his friend Kurt Goedel.  Interesting that these two monumental minds found such a bond, with Goedel who described the limits of logic and Einstein who explained the great expansive energy of the universe.
Walter Isaacson explains the basics of Einstein’s theories in a way that, mercifully, the average reader can understand.  By average reader, I mean, all of us who struggled with math and are baffled by physics.  And it is decidedly not true that Einstein was backward as a child and could not learn mathematics.  He mastered calculus in his teens was good enough at it to tutor the lesser minds of fellow students.  On the other hand, he was slow to take up language, but then again, it is clear that all his life he thought deeply and thoroughly before speaking.
It is interesting and surprising to learn that his discoveries were made mostly of thought experiments, rather than by actual physical testing.  That task was left largely to others who proved his theories.  It is also a surprise that this man of science insistently denied that he was an atheist.  In fact, he surprised several friends who assumed that he had no belief in a grand designer of the incredible design of nature.  On the other hand, he said he had no belief in a personal God, but rather believed in Spinoza’s God.  Spinoza defined God so broadly and was so opposed to what he termed the superstitious stories of the Bible, that it would be hard to say in what kind of deity Einstein did believe.
On thing is certain, he was proud of his Jewish heritage and hated the German nationalism even before Germany turned to the Nazis.  Einstein was also somewhat skeptical of the growing nationalism in Palestine that eventually brought about the state of Israel.  Nonetheless, he lobbied for the founding of Israel and was even offered it first presidency which he wisely declined.
Isaacson debunks many of the things we think we know about Einstein but it is true that there actually was some reason in the suspicions that the FBI had about him during the war.  Apparently he never knew it, but in his later years the woman he dated was indeed a Soviet agent.  His last years were spent quietly and peacefully in Princeton where he was thought to be just as he was, a thoughtful man who had every right to display superior airs, but didn’t.  His neighbors had a little daughter who would sneak over to Einstein and get help with her mathematics homework and he obliged.  She complained to him that her math problems were so difficult, but Albert Einstein, the patient genius, told her that his math problems were even more difficult.

Predictably Irrational, Dan Ariely

Predictably Irrational is nano-economics, a Freakonomics twist on the psychology of buying and selling, deciding and choosing.  Dan Ariely, an MIT professor of Behavioral Economics, presents in a readable style his many simple and ingenious experiments that demonstrate the irrational side of the everyday decisions we make.   Apparently, we may believe we follow a common sense pattern of decision-making governed by the unseen hand of economics, but we really are more ruled by unacknowledged passions, inhibitions, and cultural values.
Some of his experiments do show what seem to be directed by common sense.  For instance, in the experiments where he gives away some chocolates and sells cheaply some others, he shows how most everyone is reluctant to take something for free.  It just isn’t polite to take the last piece of bacon, but Ariely goes to some length to find this an irrational contradiction to traditional economic rules.  And of course, we all tend to decide on a purchase when the vendor can show a similar, equally valuable product for a much higher price.
However, a subtle and irrational twist on purchasing what we think is a bargain is demonstrated by Ariely’s analysis of a subscription offer from the Economist.  The offer was $59 for web access, $125 for print, and $125 for print and web.  Of course, print and web is superior to print only for the same price, but the clever construction of the ad leads the reader to make a comparison and to purchase on the basis that it is a bargain.  Irrational, but we tend to make decisions by making comparisons.  When vendors introduce a product they may well be wise to also sell a slightly upgraded and higher priced similar product so that purchases will feel the lesser priced one is a deal.
The book also demonstrates with clever experiments that we all change the basis of decision making based on social norms and market norms and never the twain shall meet, or the consequences are drastic.  Buying and selling is where greed is good, but our interactions with people are based on love or maybe compassion or at the least on respect.  Don’t read the prices on the menu aloud at the expensive restaurant if you plan on a second date.  And even though your employees or fellow employees are in a market-based agreement with you, it is wise to treat them with the respect that social norms demand.
The chapter on decision-making under the heat of arousal can easily be skipped as a too-many-details story.  On the other hand, the book discusses some intriguing experiments on trust, cheating, and cooperation.  Students, given a chance to verbally report their own scores on simple tests for cash rewards will cheat, but only a little.  Students also quickly helped themselves to soft drinks Ariely left to entice them in dorm refrigerators.  He also left small stacks of dollar bills, but no one at all took any unattended cash.  People will cheat and even steal, but money is safer because it is clearly stealing and it cannot be rationalized.  Stores lose billions every year due to employee pilfering, but far less actual cash is stolen.  You can trust people only so much, but we knew that.
We also know, or most everyone does, about the “tragedy of the commons” where selfish fishing or any kind of common harvesting operations will harvest far too much and destroy the commons for themselves and all of us.  Ariely also discuss a game theory experiment that demonstrates the flip side of the tragedy of the commons.  In the Public Goods Game, four participants are given $10 each and allowed to pool as much of that as they wish.  The common pool is double, then divided by four and re-distributed.  If they all put in their $10, they will each end with $20.  But if one player puts in nothing, then he ends up with $25 while the others get $15 ($30 doubles to $60 divided by 4 is $15).  On the second round, the cycle of mistrust begins and players contribute less until no one cooperates and they all lose.
Could it be that the fiscal conservatives, the one per centers and laissez-faire independents are the ones who know how to game the system while the rest of us poor players think that we will be served best by cooperation and contributions to the common good.  Or do we eventually learn that trust yields less than mistrust?

Coming Apart, Charles Murray

     Few authors can match the clarity and strength of persuasive writing shown by Murray in another of his controversial books of data, numbers, stats, graphs, and analysis.  It is a joy to read difficult material presented in such a lucid fashion.  Unfortunately, he does not convince, at least not about the decline of American virtues and the fall of the “American project.”  Where he demonstrates the divergence of the new upper class from the broad class of working and non-working class, his remarkably well supported conclusions are hardly assailable.
     He believes that there are four “culprits” leading to a “new upper class that increasing lives in a world of its own.”  These are the rewards of brains, wealth, the college sorting machine, and homogamy.  Brains are valued in the market in the knowledge society and educated persons increasingly sweep up the economic chips while the diminishing middle classes slip into menial or service jobs or unemployment.  Wealth, of course, generates wealth and power too as it always has.  The college sorting machine defines our lifestyle and even sorts us into zip codes, where highly educated ivy league alumni live in super-zips while second tier neighborhoods are occupied by those who had somewhat less education or went to good private colleges but not the best, and state school folks have lesser accommodations.   The poorer classes, or those in Murray’s theoretical Fishtown have no higher education and little hope of middle class opportunities.  What is worse, is the continuation of this class sorting by homogamy, that is, like marrying like.  He shows how (and here we go to Murray’s disturbing use of IQ scores as highly heritable traits) intelligence test scores ascend with each rung of the education ladder.  Thirty years ago, those without a high school education scored 88 on IQ testing but now it is at 87.  With a high school education, the score remains steady at 99.  Associate degreed persons scored around 104 to 105, while bachelor degreed persons scored 113.  With a masters it is 117 and a PhD or MD, LLD, DDS the score is 124.  Here’s the rub:  if IQ is more or less heritable, who is a high IQ young person going to marry?  They will meet a high IQ partner in an elite school, marry and voila, high IQ kinds.  The beat goes on.
     Murray demonstrates clearly that the elite class knows nobody in the lesser classes, and know nothing of their values, entertainment, neighborhoods, or travails.  A clever test he offers can be taken here:   http://www.scribd.com/doc/77349055/Coming-Apart-by-Charles-Murray-Quiz to show the reader just how well or not so well he fits into the new class structure.  
      After this powerful demonstration of the new classes, their size, characteristics, and the forces that drive this structure, Murray goes on to Parts II and III where he makes a case for American exceptionalism as constructed by the virtues of industriousness, honesty, marriage and religion and that these traits are lacking in the fall of the middle class and rebounding in the upper, educated classes.  And also that the world is coming apart and we are doomed and so forth.  It is indeed interesting to see that in the upper and elite class that marriage, parenting, industrious work ethics and even religiosity are strong and in the lower class, these have fallen off a graph cliff.  Most people may think that religion is especially strong among the less educated and lacking in the upper class, but the opposite is true.  The rise of fundamentalism among the poor may make it look like religion is strong among many less educated persons, but this is not so.   Murray also spends some time in showing the Putnam bowling-alone syndrome and that the lack of social capital is destroying working neighborhoods. 
      Murray in the final chapters promotes his libertarian answer to wait ails America, but with the crazy tea-baggers out of the closet and a Ayn Rand resurgence out and about, it is a bad time to promote such a nutty response.  He goes into the moral hazards of welfare, noting the awful destruction of personal satisfaction from jobs and responsible parenthood, apparently believing that personal freedom and limited government (that tedious phrase) is preferable to the European social welfare model.  Being fair, he allows how socialism has its points and even gives a suggested reading list for those who disagree with him on this point.  But American fairness is a virtue that seems to me to be more important in our founding characteristics than religion or the work ethic, and fairness is a salient feature of what is most admired about us as a people. When Murray bemoans the decline of religion and promotes individual effort, it seems he forgets that to be fair in the unfair class structure that we have, it is up to government to step in to the place of the failure of traditional marriage to support and educate children and it is up to government which defines and controls the unfair economic system to alleviate the economic suffering that unfettered capitalism produces.  Finally, it is fine to describe the decline of marriage, of the economy and education, but to propose a return to virtue or even, as Murray does, a revived Great Awakening of religion, is just too little too late to preachy and its just too bad for those who suffer from economic destruction.  It is economic forces to which Murray gives little credit, but it is the economy stupid, that defines and constructs our class system, not virtue and not the lack thereof.

The Longest War, Peter Bergen

    Peter Bergen wraps up his reporting on terrorism and the wars in the Middle East from the 9/11  attacks in 2001 through through the killing of Osama Bin Laden in 2011. While most of the bloody story is familiar to anyone who can read a newspaper, or anyone who still does, Bergen adds some unfamiliar details only a superb and brave reporter could know. Everbody knows about the memo warning Condoleeza Rice and the President the Bin Laden was going to attack, but Bergen shows that there was a long list of warning and signs pointing to an imminent strike on U.S. territory. While most people understand that Bush II was hell-bent on attacking Iraq, we learn from Bergen about the delusional operatives and think tank mountebanks who for years lobbied for a second round of killing in long-suffering Iraq.  Nonetheless, he does give credit to Bush for revising his war strategy and firing the officials and generals who so made a botch of things.

    Bergen also does a fine job of showing the political and military goals of the Pakistanis and explains their troubling dalliance with local and Talibani militants.  In the Afghan sphere, it is surprising to learn the Hamid Karzai was greeted with open arms by Afghans, who, despite their reputation for tribalism, have a strong sense of national identity that is older than the United States itself.  Even today, in 2012, polls show powerful support for Americans and hatred of the Taliban.  

Last Day

Chris Hedges’ book Empire of Illusion was lent to me by T.B. and I finished it on this last day of anno domini 2009. Hedges is not a happy man. In this book, subtitled “The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle” Hedges records the demise of the American Empire and its crushing devolution into the celebrity culture, the hyping of know-nothingism, the rapacity of the corporate economy, and the sleaze of pornography. T.B. cautioned me against reading Hedges’ chapter on pornography, and the first few pages of it convinced me to take his advice. Hedges is in serious need of an increase in his Prozac dosage, but his record of the swift decline of our culture, while decidedly over-the-top, was entirely appropriate to my final reading for the end of a decade where humanity endured, but did not prevail.

 
On a more positive note, I had been given, by E. as a Christmas present, the collection of essays What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell, one of my favorite writers. Last week David Brooks awarded Gladwell a Sidney, the annual David Brooks award for magazine essays. Gladwell is always fascinating and perhaps criticized as not a deep thinker, he is an out of the box thinker and never fails to provoke thought and amazement. Brooks wrote that some critics assault Gladwell as “being too interesting and not theoretical enough. This is absurd. Gladwell’s pieces in The New Yorker are always worth reading.” I read several of the pieces and indeed they are worth reading. How any writer can learn and convey so much from an essay on ketchup of all things is nothing short of astounding.

Brooks himself is always worth reading and he also reminded me of some websites I had visited before and have neglected and some he helped me discover. “Fortunately there are a few Web sites that provide daily links to the best that is thought and said. Arts and Letters Daily is the center of high-toned linkage on the Web. The Browser is a trans-Atlantic site with a superb eye for the interesting and the profound. Book Forum has a more academic feel, but it is also worth a daily read.”

The Arts and Letters Daily led me to a Kevin Carey article about college Pell grants http://www.democracyjournal.org/that_old_college_lie.html , which are so often wasted those colleges and their students, perhaps better called customers, who teach and seek higher education as some form of job training, and endeavor that generally ends in failure. Carey does regard the best of universities as truly worthwhile, however the costs are shameful. Graduate tuition and living expense at Princeton is more than $55,000 for a year. Carey says, “At the trend-setting high end of the market, higher education has become a luxury good, the educational equivalent of a Prada shoe. These are unusually nice shoes, of course, just as Harvard is an unusually good university. But in both cases consumers aren’t paying for quality alone–they’re also paying extra for scarcity and a prominent brand name, the primary value of which is to signal to the rest of the world that they’re rich and connected enough to pay the price.” Harvard is like Prada. I like that, it was worth reading.