[Quincy Lehr]

Over the past couple of weeks, give or take, we've looked at five, well, youngish poets, with interviews and often lively discussion. There have, perhaps, been some common threads among the five of us (though one might question whether this is a matter of the generation or the selection--five people is a very small sampling), as well as some real divergences. My question to all of you (interviewees, discussion participants, and those who've lurked off to the side) is roughly the one I raised at the beginning--does my era seem to be producing a "style" that is distinctive?

I thought of this particularly while leafing through the recent Swallow anthology David Yezzi put together, where, with the exception of Morri Creech and Erica Dawson (and maybe one or two others), the bulk of the authors range in age from a bit younger than Tim Murphy to fractionally older than David Rosenthal. You'd all know the names, many of whom are still lauded as the young ones at the various conferences--Williamson, Mehigan, Stallings, Yezzi himself, Downing, etc. And without rendering an aesthetic judgment on the anthology as a whole (I'm not even sure that's the most useful way to approach an anthology), some things did stand out. In large part, there was an aggregate tendency to play things a bit looser where the form was concerned, but even where the writers were not ensconced in universities, one often detects a fairly academic intelligence animating the poems. (Again, keep in mind that this is a broad generalization that applies a lot to Ben Downing, but a lot less to Erica Dawson.) What I mean is this--there's a certain airiness to the work that can work quite well, but it's not an especially visceral poetry.

If there are certain themes that have kept coming up in these discussions, they seem to include a sense of rootedness in--and perhaps loyalty to--things in one's own background that are not literary as such, a less "political" approach to form (though I'd argue were share that with our somewhat-elders), and, perhaps, a more visceral approach to the poems themselves, perhaps paradoxically combined, in some cases at least, with a more coherent "big picture." Again, this may well have something to do with the selection process (where, in essence, Jehanne and I picked according to our own tastes, Rolodexes, and time constraints), but on the other hand, not all of us have even met outside of cyberspace. We didn't all go to the same schools. Aaron and I both live in Brooklyn (though opposite ends of that borough), but aside from that, it's a reasonable geographic spread for five people. And we picked without having a coherent notion of "proving" anything to anybody.

So, any thoughts on the matter?

[Rose Kelleher]

Again, this may well have something to do with the selection process (where, in essence, Jehanne and I picked according to our own tastes

That's the main reason, surely? And Yezzi's preferences are reflected in his anthology.

[Quincy Lehr]

Well, Rose, within certain constraints. Yezzi's anthology, for starters, is over 300 pages long and thus, necessarily, is more comprehensive, but on the other hand, Jehanne and I did try to get a spread of types here.

[Janet Kenny]

I think that human beings were ever thus. The fact that the judges picked work that meant something to them, combined with easy global communication and interaction, means that you can't deduce trends from this very fine selection of gifted poets and thinkers. Take any historical period and you will find distinct variations of character and style but from a historical distance you will recognise that they shared a common culture.

I am very happy to say that all I perceive from this selection is that the human mind is still functioning despite gloomy suspicions that it might not be so.

I haven't read the anthology Quincy mentions but I think that the greatest present danger to poetry is that the academy will dictate what is acceptable and that many good poets who fail to fit the new respectable stereotype will be undervalued. Education is a grand thing as long as it doesn't lead to careerism and conformity.

[Philip Quinlan]

I'm not sure that the age of a poet is so important as when they came to poetry.

Personally didn't get started until I got to maybe 47 ish, and am doomed to always look backwards for anything worthwhile to say.

I envy people who come to poetry young, with a fresh eye (in their twenties maybe), for whom the present is eternally exciting and stimulating.

You get to a certain age it all looks like Hallmark reruns and that is a sad thing.

I particularly liked Jill Alexander Essbaum for that sense, which I shall never recapture, of it all being about NOW.

Life is a funny bugger.

P

[Quincy Lehr]

I'm mostly going to hang back for a bit, but I do want to quickly clarify the use of the word "academic," as I did not intend it as pejorative at all. I meant more a particular way of approaching information and categorizing it, a strain that has run through poetry for a very long time and is not necessarily connected to universities--and I teach at one of those, you know.

[Janet Kenny]

Quincy, that's all true and respected. What I referred to was the "trained mind". A great writer I knew used to double up with laughter when he discovered anyone with one of those. It is a great danger and although a cultivated mind is an admirable asset a trained mind is a depressing dead end.

You all seem to have received privileged educations and the greatest compliment that I can pay to any and all of you is to say that they don't weigh any of you down. I find no excessive inhibition or politeness in the poems presented.

[Terese Coe]

Does my era seem to be producing a "style" that is distinctive?

Based on these poems, of course not!

Individually distinctive at times, but not collectively distinctive.

But why limit your question to style?

In any case, I'm opposed to ageist groupings. Age (ie the age of the artist) is or should be irrelevant to discussions about art. (I'm willing to reconsider this statement if there is a persuasive argument against it.)

[Mark Allinson]

In any case, I'm opposed to ageist groupings. Age (ie the age of the artist) is or should be irrelevant to discussions about art.

Absolutely, Terese.

Age, gender, political affiliation - these only become important for those "artists" who do not place art first and foremost - that is, those for whom art is a secondary consideration, which is the essence of poetastry.

The true artist ALWAYS puts art first, and discounts the secondary elements.

[Quincy Lehr]

Okay, I'm going to be a bit cross here.

No, I'm not suggesting in any way that generational concerns are the be-all and end-all of any art. A statement that sweeping would be a bit stupid. But surely, we do discuss eras in poetry, the currents in Elizabethan or Jacobean or Augustan or Romantic poetry, for example, even while recognizing that the struggle with the weight of tradition, even language itself, is an intensely personal one. And the notion that certain broad themes or concerns might arise from a group of writers of the same nationality rather close to one another in age, even while, yes, each retains a great deal of individuality strikes me as not being terribly far-fetched. I just saw too many questions from David Rosenthal, Chris Childers, and others revolving around these matters to think that the matter is irrelevant, that time and place have no effect on what one expresses and how one expresses it are of no moment. (And I agree with Philip that when one comes to the art in one's own life can be quite important, though I think that's a question of a somewhat different order.)

Why am I interested, Terese? Not because I think it will make a lick of difference in what I write next. But perhaps as a form of self-knowledge, or, in some way, a bit of understanding of what seems problematic, or worth exploring, to at least a few of us with at least a few things in common, even if our experiences--and how we react to them in poetry--are not identical.

The characteristics I've identified may well be off-base. But human beings, even those delicate, sylph-like creatures known as poets, are social creatures. And I'm rather surprised (or, perhaps, I wish I could be more surprised) that this point has been so controversial throughout this discussion.

Quincy