Eileen R. Tabios is a poet working in multiple genres and in-between. She also loves books by writing, reading, publishing, critiquing, romancing and advocating for them. This blog will feature her bibliophilic activities with posts on current book engagements and links to her books and projects related to books.
Showing posts with label What Do You Re-Read?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label What Do You Re-Read?. Show all posts

Saturday, March 8, 2014

ON RE-READING BOOKS (#3)

[If interested in participating in this series, "What Do You Re-Read?" please go HERE for more information. We welcome your participation.]


Eileen Tabios Re-Reads!


1) What books and/or authors do you re-read?
2) Optional:  Please provide comments on your answer.

I rarely re-read books for a simple reason: there are too many books I have yet to read for the first time.  So I anticipated that my answer would feature a short list -- I notice that only my first two listings are re-read for pure apprecation.  The third is re-read for appreciation but also for increased comprehension. The last three are re-read for "work" purposes related to poetry:

Jean Rhys' novels:  Voyage in the Dark, Quartet, After Leaving Mr. Mackenzie, and Good Morning Midnight 

Her novels' characters of women making it on their own strikes a chord.  But I think I keep re-reading her because she is a master of evocation.  Her words generate a powerful and powerfully-fragile atmosphere that I much appreciate and would want to have the ability to effect in some of my writings. Although, I would prefer to create that effect without having to experience what Rhys did -- her, as one Amazon commenter said (chuckle), "sad kitty" experience...




I paused in writing this post to re-read my all-too-brief comment on Rhys' novels.  I'm missing something -- and it's this:  her writing is addictive.  Like a drug.  I'll stop there.



*****

84, CHARING CROSS ROAD by Helene Hanff is, per Wikipedia, "a 1970 book by Helene Hanff, ... about the twenty-year correspondence between her and Frank Doel, chief buyer of Marks & Co, antiquarian booksellers located at the eponymous address in London, England. Hanff, in search of obscure classics and British literature titles she had been unable to find in New York City, noticed an ad in the Saturday Review of Literature and first contacted the shop in 1949, and it fell to Doel to fulfill her requests. In time, a long-distance friendship evolved, not only between the two, but between Hanff and other staff members as well, with an exchange of Christmas packages, birthday gifts, and food parcels to compensate for post-World War II food shortages in Britain. Their letters included discussions about topics as diverse as the sermons of John Donne, how to make Yorkshire Pudding, the Brooklyn Dodgers, and the coronation of Elizabeth II."



The tale is so charming that after first reading it years ago, I immediately sent the book to Mom and bought another copy for my library.  Both Mom and I were/are extremely charmed by this tale.  I've read it twice and while I haven't looked at it again, I would always be willing to pick it up and read it.  It's just such an enchanting tale. 

The book's Wikipedia link is actually a good one for listing the books that Hanff ordered from Doel and Marks & Co.

The story also melds my interest in bookstores and coping with adversity.  There's a movie version out there that, unfortunately, is pallid relative to the book.



*****


THE HOLY BIBLE

Can one really understand The Bible without a humongous amount of rereading?  In any event, I've just started Bible Study with some Methodist grannies for this porpoise. 



*****


THIRTY-FIVE NEW PAGES by Lev Rubinstein




This "book" from the ever-innovative Ugly Duckling Presse (Brooklyn) is a small box of index card-sized cards with instructions that, if followed, can create a new book. Page 1's instructions are hilarious by saying, "Obviously, nothing at all should appear here" which is often the case where the first page in many books is blank.  I keep re-reading this because I want to generate thirty-five new pages of writings based on the index card's declarations/instructions (and/or possibly write a review for Galatea Resurrects).  For example, to generate Page 13, this card indicates:







***** 


THE GRAND PIANO, ten volumes of a "collective autobiography" by Bob Perelman, Steve Benson, Tom Mandel, Kit Robinson, Rae Armantrout, Carla Harryman, Ron Silliman, Lyn Hejinian, Barrett Watten and Ted Pearson.  This is self-assigned re-reading because I'm interested in the project's structure of collective autobiography. Because all of the volumes were released prior to my paying attention to the series, I have been reading each individual poet’s contributions sequentially with the idea that, if I was so moved after reading all authors’ contributions, I then would read the books as collectively authored.  Now that I've finished reading all the authors, while I wasn't moved (so to speak) by all of them, I am still sufficiently curious to plan to read at least one volume as a volume -- to see what they are achieving as collective autobiographers.  Here's the series and also on, yeah (because what's a blog for but the chance occasionally to be cheeky),  a grand piano:





 



*****



I also anticipate that my answer to this re-reading question will be affected by my writing focus newly- away from poetry to a RUSSIAN NOVEL.  I anticipate that this will require me to reread some great novels as part of honing my craft.  I've read a lot of crap fiction over the past years but they don't stick when it came to my poetry writing.  I anticipate that to improve my writing of fiction, I need to read different (better) fare.



*****


I initially ended my post here.  But Tom Beckett's contribution to this series reminds that writers often re-read their own works for a variety of purposes (scroll down to his last paragraph in the link).  So I will end with saying I've been re-reading my first U.S.-published poetry collection, Reproductions of the Empty Flagpole (Marsh Hawk Press, 2002) because I used it as a basis for creating new poems for my forthcoming Fall poetry collection, SUN STIGMATAS (Sculpture Poems). 
Reproductions... is a book of prose poems.  To create most of the poems in SUN STIGMATAS, I thought about chiseling lines out from the prose into verses a la this quote


“Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”
—Michelangelo

In response to Michelangelo, I thought, "What if the block of stone is a block of prose?" Thus, I thought to "sculpt" verses.  

But recently, while I thought of the above process as "sculpting" poems, I've realized that perhaps what's happening here is also a practice of Lectio Divina (there is spirituality in my poetic practice and I do consider the "poem" a "prayer"--perhaps a tale for another time). In order to read my original poems, I had to engage with the words themselves instead of trying to recall any particular intention of mine as author at the time of writing them (this wasn't hard to do as my memory is a sieve). In READING THE DIFFICULTIES (Univ. of Alabama Press), Elizabeth Robinson offers this about Lectio Divina which I find useful for my point:


One contemporary  monastic website discusses the way that Lectio Divina radicalizes the practice of reading (and rereading): “One does not engage in Lectio Divina to acquire disinterested, intellectual knowledge. The intent of Lectio Divina is to make the reading of Scripture … a two way street for God and us. Cyprian of Carthage put it perfectly: ‘Be assiduous in prayer and in reading. In the one you speak to God in the other God speaks to you’. What is germane here is that this ancient practice of reading and  rereading insists on a sense of reciprocity between reader and text: each is involved in an interchange whose outcome, meaning, and value cannot be ascertained beforehand and which is subject to change with each reading. 


Isn't the above an interesting take on *reader-response*, its role in engaging with poetry, as well as the role of rereading!



Friday, February 7, 2014

ON RE-READING BOOKS (#2)


[If interested in participating in this series, "What Do You Re-Read?" please go HERE for more information. We welcome your participation.]


Tom Beckett Re-Reads!

1) What books and/or authors do you re-read?
2) Optional: Please provide comments on your answer.

I most often re-read Robert Creeley, Wittgenstein,  Charles Bernstein and a number of the poets originally associated with L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E writing.  These are the writers who ultimately helped to form my sensibility.

In the early 1970s, when I was starting out as a poet, Robert Creeley used to routinely issue small, evocative books of often tiny poems.  I have a sentimental attachment to these volumes—books such as Thirty Things (Black Sparrow, 1974) and His Idea (Coach House Press, 1973).  There were several others, but these publications were particular standouts for me.

Thirty Things, I’d like to say, is just that: thirty short poems.  Looking though at the table of contents and counting down the page, it looks as if there are actually thirty-one pieces.  Ha!  You don’t always get what you expect, sometimes you get more!

There are also, in Thirty Things, great monoprints by Bobbie Creeley.  NB: I counted them, there are 31 of those too!

Thirty Things.  The poems are at times kind of gnomic, abrupt, notational.  I responded to that as a young person and I respond to it still.  I lean toward economy (less being more)  in writing.  Love this one:

                     Post Cards
                     For Bob Grenier
  

Each thing, 
you didn’t even taste it.
   *
A red flag 
on a red pole.
   *
Heaven must spell something.
   *
If the telephone rings, 
don’t say anything. 
   *
A beating around 
the bush. Green 
growth.
   * 
Dad’s mother’s 
death. 
   *


His Idea comprises poems  written to accompany a suite of photographs by Elsa Dorfman of a couple having sex. 

Smells, 
sounds, 
pillows.

Both of these volumes—Thirty Things and His Idea—were received by me, back in the day, as imperfect but urgent bulletins from the front of a developing psycho-social consciousness.  And the work continues to resonate.

Ludwig Wittgenstein.  I’ve read all of his work more than once, but it is Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus  which I am haunted by and which slays me.  It is lean relentless poetry. 

“The world is everything that is the case” is, I think, the best opening line of any book ever. 

What so moves me about Wittgenstein is his palpable struggle  to understand.  Peter Sloterdijk puts it this way in Philosophical Temperaments:

The story of Wittgenstein’s life and thought is the passion of an intellect that sought to explain its place in the world and at its boundaries.  What the contemporary world of the philosopher perceived as his rigid and demanding aura was the high tension of a man who required constant concentration on his ordering principles so as not to lose his mind.  As one dwelling on the borderline of Being, the philosopher is never concerned with anything less that the block of the world as a whole, even when he is merely pondering the correct use of a word in a sentence.(88)

It was reading and re-reading Wittgenstein and Gertrude Stein (not to mention Marx and the Frankfurt School) that prepared me for L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E, the periodical, when my friend Judy Platz first sent me copies from Boston.

I was a Cold War baby, a baby boomer, born in 1953.  I avoided the war in Vietnam,  just barely, despite a low lottery number, because of a history of epilepsy.  Poetry is, for me, bound up with socio-political considerations as well as with linguistic ones.  Indeed, I still believe that it is possible for a poet to effect political change on, at least, an individual level by affecting consciousness.  If reading a poem jars one, causes one to see the world differently, isn’t that revolutionary?  I think, hope, so. It has been the case for me that poems have changed my life.  How can I not hope that such will be the case for others?

Charles Bernstein’s work is exemplary.  It’s socially aware. It mixes genres.  It jams codes.  It supercharges sentences and makes me look at the world differently. 

Bernstein’s “The Klupzy Girl,” a poem first published in my magazine The Difficulties (a print magazine,  published from 1980-1990, which will soon be available online at https://jacket2.org/reissues), famously opens:

Poetry is like a swoon, with this difference: 
it brings you to your senses.

It’s been over thirty years since I first read that line.  It still makes me shiver.

In the course of editing, assembling and publishing The Difficulties, I learned that typing another person’s poem or essay could become a profound way of reading and re-reading a text.  I think that this is an editorial process that’s been somewhat lost in this era of digital cut and paste. (Remember, I was working on The Difficulties back in typewriter days.)   I would argue that if one truly wanted to engage Finnegan’s Wake, the best entry into its material and metaphysical universe would be to take the time to slowly and deliberately copy the book (either on a keyboard or by hand).



3) Please provide a list of your books (including chaps) and links, if any. Books can be written or edited. (This details is to provide some info about the responder.)

Tom Beckett's Print Publications:
UNPROTECTED TEXTS

THIS POEM/WHAT SPEAKS?/A DAY

PARTS AND OTHER PIECES


As Editor/Curator:
E-X-C-H-A-N-G-E-V-A-L-U-E-S, VOL.S 1,2,3




Tom Beckett's Web Publications:
LITTLE BOOK OF ZOMBIE POEMS  (chapbook)


FORMER SESTINAS (chapbook of collaborations with Thomas Fink)
excerpts from APPEARANCES: A NOVEL IN 365 FRAGMENTS (the book I’ve been at work on for the last 2 years)


After putting together this list of publications, I thought I should mention another type of re-reading—the re-reading of one’s own work.  Writers don’t talk about this much.  But we all do it to a certain extent.  Whether in preparation for a new volume, a reading, or whatever.  Sometimes it is like time travel—what planet was I on when I wrote that?  What was I thinking?!?  Or sometimes you’re pleasantly surprised.  Writing is ultimately about having a conversation with others, but it begins as a conversation with one’s self.