[Terese Coe]

A crucial point made by Momdebomb:

"I've found myself wondering sometimes, if people weren't editing already on the first read through."

This is related to what I meant by the necessity for a "willing suspension of disbelief" when reading.

This discussion is excellent.

Terese

[A. E. Stallings]

Dear Esther,

A very interesting post. I'm of three minds about the matter, as it were. My sentiments are very similar to yours, and in fact I tend not to post my own work for the reasons you discuss--much of what I do is a bit quirky (and much in a grey area between form and free), and I have a pretty good notion of things that will come in for criticism despite their being deliberate. Or on the other hand, maybe I am just chicken! I'm very shy about showing unfinished work, and if I feel it is "finished" perhaps it is wasting people's time to post it. On the other hand, it is still difficult for me to tell if a poem as a whole is working, or a line is clear, without some sort of informal feedback from readers (whether my husband, an editor, a trusted poetry friend, the audience at a reading).

I agree there is something about the workshop format which asks what is wrong with a poem, rather than what is right with it. I do sometimes wish there were a board merely for sharing poetry. On the other hand, what would be the point, with no feedback? Some feedback is bound to be negative. One way working poets differ from other readers of literature (as in an English lit class), is that they KNOW that what is on the page, even if it is by Shakespeare or T.S. Eliot, is a result of choices, and that the poet had considered other options. The text on the page (or screen) is probably LESS sacred in a way to practioners, who are bound to question as well as appreciate. This is healthy, I think. I also think a strong poet is able to take the feedback and sift from it what is useful, what fits in with his or her vision for the poet. So am sure you will retain the carefully colorless verbs in the poem, despite someone's (er...me I fear) having made mention of them. It isn't the workshop who has the final say, but the poet. And I dare say we shall see this poem again in a journal of note, where the temptation will not be so much to criticize as to appreciate.

I do think that poems of higher quality and polish tend to come in for pickier, and even harsher, crits. The more finished a piece, the more some choices, like diction, will come to the fore. But we should also remember that diction may be one of the most personal things about a poet. What happens to Hardy if you make him give up words like "Doomsters" and Powerfuller"? He is smoother, certainly, but less himself.


Alicia

[Terese Coe]

Alicia

I hope Esther doesn't mind if I jump in here for a minute to thank you for your comment.

I do think that poems of higher quality and polish tend to come in for pickier, and even harsher, crits. The more finished a piece, the more some choices, like diction, will come to the fore. But we should also remember that diction may be one of the most personal things about a poet. What happens to Hardy if you make him give up words like "Doomsters" and Powerfuller"? He is smoother, certainly, but less himself.

How true. This is a crucial addition to the discussion and I had to jump in to say so. "Doomsters" and "Powerfuller" work they are so descriptive and sensual to the ears; Hardy would not be Hardy without them. Besides which, in his case, the words tell us how language was used in his time, an element of history I personally crave and which I prefer to receive from a poet rather than a critic or historian.

It is also true that diction seems to have been excessively pre-ordained and thus perhaps is not receiving its due among critics as something to be heard.

Terese

[Alan Sullivan]

With my slow connection, I rarely visit some parts of the Sphere, so I have just read through this discussion for the first time.

I would like to begin my response by recalling Dana Gioia's admonition that poets take more active part in criticism. He felt that the role of critic had been ceded to academics who often semed more interested in semiotics or social science than in works of art.

It seems to me that informed criticism of works-in-progress is the best rationale for a site such as this. I would have no interest in a site where the main activity was back-patting, and where no one expected to change a word of any piece posted. While I enjoy hearing that a reader liked a particular phrase or line, the most helpful criticism is always the negative variety.

Of course I would be quite frustrated if I posted a published poem here and someone pointed out flaws that had previously escaped my notice. For this reason I have only posted unpublished work. And in every instance, I have gotten a better poem from the process. Sometimes there were only one or two tweaks, sometimes substantial rewrites. I would avail myself of our incisive readers more often if I were writing more verse, but other literary projects, including this site, are taking too much of my time.

Rewriting is always a tricky business, whether a poet is solitary or collegial. It is very easy to kill a poem by rewriting, although I find on reflection that most such deaths are merciful. I have also found that some poems attain their full poential only after multiple rewrites, sometimes over a period of years. In a sense what we offer here is a rewrite site. The objective is not to salve the self-esteem of the poet, but to winnow good poems from mediocre, and to make the best even better. I do not think we are crushing the life from any future Hardy here.

The Sphereans who are most active in critique are all established, practicing poets with substantial records of publication. When most of them agree on a point, they are worth listening to. Sometimes the harshest critique is the most valuable. When I was new here, I once ran afoul of Leo, the cybervandal, who assailed a piece of my light verse with all of his critical skill, and added a great deal of personal invective. He was kicked off the site soon after. But I acted on his comments, ignoring the nasty ones, using the useful ones. That poem will soon be published in <u>Light</u>. I would have discarded it as worthless, but for Leo.

Alan Sullivan

[Norman Ball]

Hi Esther:

Here is a related comment which falls under some kind of anthropological category. It is not unusual to post the identical poem on separate boards only to have it praised on one and thoroughly dismantled on the other. Nor do I feel this phenomenon is fully explained by the aggregate personality or tastes of different board communities (i.e. "like" people tend to congregate in "like" locations). Invariably, threads strike off in a "direction" which, in some sense, is driven more by the content of the preceding comments than by the the Prime Mover, the original poem. But should comments be hermetically sealed from one another or is the value of the commentary enhanced by collaboration? I know some people make it a practice not to read others' comments when offering their own critique on a poem in order to mitigate this kind of influencing effect.

I think of statistics where each observation is discrete and unrelated to its companion events. For example if, by some statistical fluke, one throws 10 "heads" in a series of coin tosses, the chance of throwing a head is still statistically 50/50 on the 11th toss even though human nature suggests to us that a tail is really "overdue". Not so on poetry crit boards. There is a subtle steering at play which, again, I feel lies somewhere in the realm of sociology or group psychology/dynamics. People are emboldened by their peers and a sort of consensus-building can take effect. Contrarian views become less likely as the weight of critique falls in either direction.

I guess what I'm struck by is the seeming arbitrariness of a thread's direction in relation to the inherent merit of the poem. Another way of expressing this is that if all critiquers were precluded from reading their fellow critiquers, there would be less unanimity of opinion towards a poem, good or bad.

This is a fascinating thread, by the way.



[This message has been edited by Norman Ball (edited March 30, 2001).]

[Alan Sullivan]

Norman, I think you are quite right to remark on the force of a consensus. The first few posters usually set a tone that predominates in subsequent critiques. But I do not think it would be a good thing for comments to be hermetically sealed as you suggest. Individual crits often focus on specific points that are supplemental to those already covered. There is a cumulative effort and effect which would be lost if crits appeared in isolation.

I often stand aside and let others comment on a poem before I post. If I see a consensus that seems questionable, especially if it is trending to insipid praise, I don't hesitate to break with the majority.

Alan Sullivan

[ChrisW]

Just stumbled on this thread today.
I want to respond to one of the points Esther raises:

But the discussion mostly centered on the poem's slight departures from convention (archaic touches, deviations from metrical regularity, the use of colorless verbs where one might expect something more vigorous). No one thought of using these departures as clues, and following them to the heart of the poem. I think if I'd been commenting on it I'd have noted the way time unfolds in the poem, I'd talk about it as a failed return to the Garden of Eden -- as said, the kind of thing we used to pride ourselves on discovering in English class.

It was my rather naive reactions to Esther's "Peonies and Cedar" that set people talking about archaism -- all of them defending the poem against my criticism, by the way. Anyway, I certainly had no intention of getting everyone to talk about archaisms in poetry -- just of giving my own reaction (much of which was very positive -- though I'm not good at expressing enthusiasm).
Still, it seems that the very naivete of my reaction is precisely the sort of thing that MIGHT lead someone to appreciate what Esther suggests we should appreciate. If some blockhead like me comes along and says 'this is too archaic' or 'the verbs are colorless', this is a perfect opening for someone else to raise the question "But if the author intended these effects, what would be her point?" Without someone asking the obvious question and looking for problems, there would be no appreciation of the deeper virtues of the poem.
Well, that's the dunderhead's argument for the utility of dunderheads.
Personally I'd be very happy to get criticism from others without putting my own critical judgment on the line -- if everyone will critique me IN EXCHANGE FOR MY SILENCE on their threads, I'll be delighted.
However, I certainly learned something about criticism from the "Peonies and Cedar" thread -- so maybe keeping quiet wouldn't be to my ultimate advantage.
--Chris

[This message has been edited by ChrisW (edited March 31, 2001).]

[momdebomb]

Chris,
You're not a dunderhead.

When it all comes down to it folks, no one at home will comment about my poems. Oh, they'll say "very nice" or "that's good" but they don't give a rat's ass where my commas are. It's nice to have somewhere to get some real input, expert or no.

Sharon P.

[ChrisW]

Thanks Sharon. I was making an intellectual point up there, but it sprang out of a certain embarrassment I originally felt after having responded to Esther's sonnet and finding that my reaction against archaisms had been a mere reflex.
Hope the intellectual point didn't get too lost in my embarrassment.
--Chris

[RCL]

Those following this thread might be interested in looking at the recent material in Expansive Poetry and Music Online. It includes Esther's poem responding to Arthur Mortensen's essay as well as a review of Dana Gioia's new book, including the libretto for Nosferatu. (This repeats a message I put on General Announcements).