My latest revelation has been the works of Susan Howe, an American poet and essayist. Since the 1970s, Howe has been fashioning original works from early American historical narratives, including those that document the violent encounter of New England colonists with Native Americans. It contains many other aspects, too, I’m sure, but for now this is what seems most present and palpable in her work — taking inspiration from historical and documentary texts, and the period of early American colonial conflict.
I was referred to her work by a Twitter acquaintance some time ago after mentioning in conjunction two other authors (Paul Metcalf and W.G. Sebald) whose work plunges us headlong into the past, and I have since read several of her books: That This (2010), The Birth-Mark (1993), Frame Structures: Early Poems 1974-1979 (1996), and Singularities (1990).
My enjoyment of her work I think stems from the disorientation and awe I feel on a first reading. These are texts that demand a second reading if we are to truly get at them. And those second readings, too, are limited in what they reveal. It would be very hard to succinctly say what she’s up to, in fact it’s quite varied among the works I refer to above; but as a general observation, her work seems to be constructed on principles of quotation, lexical borrowing and combination, unusual typographical arrangements. What’s really extraordinary, though, is the way her work confronts, sometimes obliquely, sometimes very directly, the power and violence that are implicit in conquest and (historical) interpretation.
In The Birth-Mark, for instance, in the context of an essay about Emily Dickinson (“These Flames and Generosities of the Heart: Emily Dickinson and the Illogic of Sumptuary Values”), Howe underlines the fact that
It is over a hundred years after her death; if I am writing a book and I quote from one of her letters or poems and use either the Johnson or Franklin edition of her texts, I must obtain permission from and pay a fee to
The President and Fellows of Harvard College / and the Trustees of Amherst College.
Indeed, that is outrageous. (It’s not hard, in light of this travesty of liberalism, to see why Howe titled another of her books My Emily Dickinson.) How can institutions like Harvard and Amherst claim to be advocates of scholarly inquiry, while controlling the dissemination of and access to Dickinson’s work in that way? For an institution of higher learning, this is rank hypocrisy.
As I read through Howe’s poems lately (what generalizations I’m making here refer mostly to Frame Structures and Singularities, her two books freshest in my mind), I am lost much of the time, as if in the American wilderness that forms the scenic background of the poems. I move along understanding only a fraction of what I read, grasping for bits and pieces that make me feel less lost. A fragment hoves into view for a moment, crystallizing the understanding —
infinite miscalculation of history (in Articulations of Sound Forms in Time, published in Singularities, p. 17)
and is gone. I have the sense the effect is itself calculated — not a sign of the poet’s failure to communicate or achieve coherence or cogency, but intentional. We are meant to be lost, phenomenologically, lexically. As we are lost in history, or in this present. We salvage what shards we can.
More on Howe later, maybe. I’m captivated. For now, I invite you to listen to any number of recordings of her reading from and discussing her work at PennSound.
Seen in William Carlos Williams’ Paterson.
Hamlet ou les suites de piété filiale (1887) – Jules Laforgue
Afloat on the Ohio (1897) – Reuben Thwaites
Call Me Ishmael (1947) – Charles Olson
The Maximus Poems I – III (1960) – Charles Olson
Paterson I – II (1946) – William Carlos Williams
Fire Sermon (1971) – Wright Morris
The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary (1999) – Simon Winchester
Graffitis (2012) – Charlotte Guignard
Lillabulero 12 (1973) – Paul Metcalf Special Issue
Begun/in progress :
The Tragic History of the Sea / História trágico-marítima (c. 1735) – edited & compiled by Bernardo Gomes de Brito (ed. & trans. C.R. Boxer, 1959, 1968)
The Median Flow: Poems 1943-1973 () – Theodore Enslin
Colonel Zoo (1997) – Olivier Cadiot (trans. Cole Swensen, 2006)
The Lost Colonies of Ancient America (2014) – Frank Joseph
All over the place this month. I was (am) in reading heaven, but my focus was (is) destroyed.
Gilgamesh (c. 2,500 BC) – anon. (trans. Stuart Kendall, 2012)
Beowulf (c. 1000 AD) – anon. (trans. Thomas Meyer, 1970/2012)
Intellectuals in the Middle Ages (1957) – Jacques Le Goff (trans. Teresa Lavender Fagan, 1993)
Victorine (1959) – Maud Hopkins
The Kingdom of this World (1949) – Alejo Carpentier (trans. Harriet de Onís, 1957)
The Book of Literary Lists (1985) – Nicholas Parsons
Frontiers (1989) – Michel Butor (trans. Elinor S. Miller & Warren C. Miller)
Wonderful Life: The Burgess Shale and the Nature of History (1989) – Stephen Jay Gould
The Birth-mark (1993) – Susan Howe
” ‘Seeing Words Machinewise’: Technology and Visual Prosody” (1999) – Craig Dworkin
L’occupation (2002) – Annie Ernaux
I thought of Aimé Césaire’s Solar Throat Slashed for some reason – how I love these lines:
As for me should they grab my leg
I vomit up a forest of lianas
Should they hang me by my fingernails
I piss a camel bearing a pope […]
(Lines taken from “Preliminary Question,” in Solar Throat Slashed: The Unexpurgated 1948 Edition by Aimé Césaire. Trans. A. James Arnold and Clayton Eshleman. Wesleyan University Press.)
Here is a page from Paul Metcalf’s Apalache (1976), to my mind one of the most beautiful books ever written. The work is available in vol 1 of Metcalf’s Collected Works, published by Coffee House Press, or alternately in an exceptionally handsome 1st edition from Turtle Island Foundation. (The page scan is from the latter.)