Showing posts with label Simon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Simon. Show all posts

May 30, 2016

Paul Muldoon at AWF 2016: A poet worth knowing

In which Simon from Central City Library tells us about going to see poet Paul Muldoon, and the adroit adjective 'Eliotic' makes its first appearance in Books in the City:



The Writers Festival session "One thousand things worth knowing" featured acclaimed US-based Irish poet Paul Muldoon speaking about his career and artistry with our own C.K. Stead. Muldoon, a poet who enjoys a critical standing up there with the likes of Seamus Heaney (not to mention being a Professor at Princeton University and poetry editor at The New Yorker), was a warm and eloquent speaker. He read wonderfully and spoke with humour and grace. Stead is clearly less of a natural public speaker, (to be fair, he was a late stand-in for Bill Manhire), but knew Muldoon's work and antecedents more than well enough to help facilitate an interesting discussion.

The conversation begun with talk of formative influences. Aside from the impact of the immediacy necessary in radio, impressed upon him during his time working for the BBC, Muldoon admitted early poetic efforts also involved trying to "follow Eliot", which had often resulted in poetry that was "Eliotic."

In contrast, being an Irish poet, Muldoon had found it necessary to "work around" Yeats rather than aspire to, let alone compete with, his greatness. Stead expressed surprise that Yeats had not been mentioned more in the prior ‘From 1916 to Here’ festival event which Muldoon had been part of. Muldoon pointed out the irony that historical events after the fact had helped imbue a poem like Yeats’s “Easter 1916” with its verisimilitude. The British shooting of insurrectionists during the Easter Rising had in fact only happened after Yeats had composed the poem and not the other way round.

Even if he had begun as one of many Eliot acolytes, it was not the Eliotic that Muldoon was shooting for. Rather, he hoped he might induce an "electric shock" for the reader, or as Stead put it, "a kick in the behind." Muldoon elaborated that if the process of composing the poem is unexpected for the writer, this increases the likelihood that a similar shift, whether seismic or minor, will occur for the reader.

"If I know what I'm doing then everyone else will know too. . . If I don't know what I'm doing, there's a chance others will be surprised."

Further building on this contention, Muldoon went so far as to dismiss the "write about what you know" creative writing tenet.

Despite wanting to cause this shift in the reader, Muldoon was uncertain of the effect poetry might have on the world at large. He hoped it might do some good, and could see a world in which art took over the role of organised religion.

Muldoon read poems such as ‘Honey’ from his new volume One Thousand Things Worth Knowing, and older poems such as ‘Saffron’ and ‘Why Brownlee Left’. Muldoon contended ‘Honey’ was the type of poem which seemed to ask of itself: “Is this a poem at all?” The answer “Not much” was one Muldoon felt the culture of poetry as a whole should be more comfortable with. He read with a gentle determination that seemed perfectly in keeping with the tone of the poems.

A brief QnA session elicited charming and self-deprecating responses from Muldoon. When asked if he really felt he could “write about Saffron forever”, Muldoon said he felt that “subject matter” was irrelevant – that the whole world could be seen through the prism of something as seemingly minor as saffron. A second audience member enquired about what books had spoken to Muldoon in his youth. Stevenson’s Treasure Island as it turns out. “If I could write a book like Treasure Island, I wouldn’t bother with this stuff.”

-- Simon 

May 28, 2015

"Translation Gymnastics" at AWF15, with Anna Jackson and Daniel Mendelsohn





Thanks to Simon Comber from Readers Services for this guest post.

Tom Bishop facilitated an engaging discussion between American writer and critic Daniel Mendelsohn and New Zealand poet Anna Jackson. Together the speakers explored the different ways a writer could interact with a bygone poetic voice.

As it turned out, only Mendelsohn was an actual translator of poetry, having spent twelve years working on his acclaimed translations of the poems of C.P Cavafy (Collected poems). The first section of Jackson’s recent volume of poetry, I, Clodia and other portraits, had been named after (and written in the imagined voice of), the love interest of the famous Roman poet of antiquity Catullus. Whilst Mendelsohn was deeply familiar with Cavafy in the original Greek, Jackson was only familiar with Catullus in translation. She spoke of her initial exposure through Ben Jonson’s Renaissance era translations, and C.K Stead’s resetting of Catullus poems to Auckland’s West Coast beaches.

As the discussion made clear, there were still many similarities to be found between the two guests and their respective relationships to poetry of the past. Mendelsohn noted that when in the midst of working on translations, you were both responding to and engaging with the poetic voice. There was an aspect of being “reactive” to both the original text and previous translations. Aspects of this, and of the wonderful word Mendelsohn liked to use to describe his role, “adaptrix”, could just as easily have been applied to Jackson’s relationship to Catullus.

In the midst of their research, both writers couldn’t help but be laying a palimpsest over what other translators were gesturing towards, although, inevitably, only Mendelsohn would ever find himself making alterations between the release of the hard and softcover versions of his translations. Jackson on the other hand liked to joke that, as more of an imaginative adaptor than a translator, her “translation” would always be the most perfect. I, Clodia simultaneously spoke back to and used the voice of Catullus.

Perhaps the Homeric image Mendelsohn fondly recalled from the tales of Odysseus sums up the activity that both writers were trying to articulate during this discussion. When Odysseus ventures to the Underworld he recognises his mother and repeatedly tries to hug her, but as she is only a shade, his arms find no solid body to wrap around. Mendelsohn was implying that both his and Jackson’s work was mirrored in this scene. Both Catullus and Cavafy are gone from the world, but through the work of the “adaptrix”, their spirits, and their voices, remain.

--Simon


Auckland Writers Festival

May 16, 2012

AWRF 2012: Martin Edmond on Creative Non-Fiction

Martin Edmond is one of my favourite characters (yes, he is a writer, but he is a character too) and I wish I had been able to make this workshop. Luckily Simon Comber from Readers Services was there to soak up the experience and dash off this description for us.
 
Martin Edmond's workshop on "creative non-fiction" (a term, he hastened to clarify from the start, which he had not chosen himself and was not particularly fond of ) was more of a freewheeling and fun discussion than a workshop. In a review of Edmond's most recent book, Dark Night: Walking With McCahon, by Justin Paton in The Listener, Edmond's prose style had been described as "Too personal to be called histories" and "too flagrantly imaginative to be called biographies". Edmond’s books, he noted, "look out of place on whatever shelf you put them." Thus it was no surprise that Edmond, a critically acclaimed prose writer, was the man to take this discussion -- even if he found the umbrella term for his own style a little reductive.

Edmond combined personal anecdotes with thoughts on writing in general, and explications of the "rules" of non-fiction. He always welcomed discussion and questions from the 40 or so attendees. He stressed that writing was an action. One was not writing when planning what to write or postulating on writing -- only when engaged in the process. Edmond felt preconceived notions of what one was about to write were often hard to realise, and that the best writing was often a surprise to the writer. He described the main qualities of creative non-fiction as selective truth, the inclusion of suppositions and the utilisation of one's right to speculate. "Perhaps" was a useful word, he contended.

Edmond shared his favourite version of the Greek muses: the pre-Renaissance notion that Mneme (memory), Aoide (voice) and Melete (occasion/practice) were the three muses that together bore art, including writing. He generously shared the story of how he came to writing prose (having tried and struggled to be a poet, by his own self-deprecating admission, for 20 years!) when being asked to speak at his father's funeral. The effortless voice that spilled forth when he got up to talk was the same voice with which he began to write his first book.

Discussion then turned more specifically to the complications of writing a personal non-fiction that may or may not refute other people's versions, and Edmond shared his own experiences in interacting with the family members and friends of people that he had focused on (and creatively speculated on) in his books, and the difficulty in deciding what to include and what not to, from both aesthetic and ethical standpoints. "Of course I've left things out," he admitted, "but they all think I've said too much."



May 15, 2012

AWRF 2012: Why Lyrics Matter: Brian Boyd

Simon Comber is a singer/songwriter and a member of the Readers Services Team based at Central City Library. He knows that lyrics matter but was curious to hear Brian Boyd's thoughts on why they do. He reports:
 
Iain Sharp chaired a discussion with New Zealand's (and the world's) leading Vladimir Nabokov expert Brian Boyd. Sharp expressed concern at the start that trying to do justice to the sheer scope of Boyd's expertise and accomplishments in a mere hour was going to be a tall order, and sure enough, by the end of the talk the topic suggested by the event's title had scarcely been touched upon, with the final question from an audience member being "Er, Brian. Why do lyrics matter?" This is hardly a quibble though, as it was none the less a treat to hear Boyd talking about his formative years and how his passion for the work of Nabokov had evolved.

Having moved with his family from Belfast to New Zealand at a young age, Boyd found himself working at a bookstore set up by his parents in Palmerston North. He remembers reshelving Lolita when he was 12, which lead to him read it for the first time. He didn't really "get it", but his interest was again piqued when he saw Nabokov on the cover of Time Magazine (May 23, 1969, his razor sharp biographer's memory recalled) and Boyd, inspired by Nabokov's fascinating interview answers, went and got Pale Fire out of the local library. Reading that, he contended, was "the most exciting literary experience of my life." His interest and obsession with one of the twentieth century's great authors only grew from there, with Boyd writing a thesis on the novel Ada whilst studying at Toronto University on a scholarship.

Since then Boyd has completed a key two volume biography on Nabokov, (among involvement in writing and editing many other books on the man), spent longer than any man should annotating Ada (view his work so far here: http://www.ada.auckland.ac.nz/), and also written two recent books on his interest in the human tendency toward pattern recognition, and shaping our experiences through art into fictional narratives. As Boyd amusingly put it: "Why does a successful species spend so much time telling each other stories that both sides know are untrue?"

He also discussed briefly his interest in the phenomenon that had helped shape his most recent book Why Lyrics Last that whilst Shakespeare's sonnets are the most successful collection of lyrics in western literary history, very few readers managed to read them all due to the collections lack of that overarching narrative humans seem to so strongly desire (though he noted some critics did perceive a narrative thread.) By then our time was up, and with great marketing savvy Boyd suggested that to really get to grasps with the contentions in his recent book you were just going to have to purchase it.


May 20, 2010

AWRF 2010 - Emily Perkins and Damien Wilkins

Simon tells us about his next appointment at AWRF 2010 -- but neglects to say if he sampled the wares of the coffee cart first.

Coming to this event after the more harrowing morning topic of "forgotten victims in a post 9/11 world" made it feel like light relief. It was also heavy on interesting discussion, with two New Zealand authors discussing their vocation with passionate candour. 

Chair Fergus Barrowman began by comparing the similar career arcs of Emily Perkins and Damien Wilkins. Both had studied at Victoria University, and both authors had enjoyed early critical success; Perkins with her shorts collection Not her Real Name (1996) and Wilkins withThe Miserables (1993).  Both were now teachers, and both had recently put out what were being hailed as career highs; Perkins' Novel About my Wife and Wilkins' Somebody Loves Us All. 

Barrowman then posed that elusive question: when did you KNOW ....?

Emily Perkins. Perkins said she had first become cognizant of what she felt (despite technical imperfections) was her own artistic "voice" whilst doing Bill Manhire's undergraduate Creative Writing Course. Wilkins was a little more self-effacing. He spoke of the shame he harboured for his early attempts at at writing, thus not daring to enrol in a writing course that would encourage exposing works in progress to one's classmates. However, he was struck by a comment a teacher had written on one of his essays, complimenting the "rhythms" of his prose. This was the small kernel of positivity Wilkins needed to suspect that perhaps he too HAD something. 

Damien Wilkins. Both authors spoke positively of the role teaching English plays in their own work. Perkins found it rejuvenating, and Wilkins said he felt excited to be hearing new voices in an embryonic state, the originality of ideas often shining through technical flaws. 

An even more elusive question: What is literature FOR....? 

Perkins said her reasons for writing were always evolving, but that presently she was more interested in writing something that produced sensation as it was being read in the moment, rather than writing something that was "significant."As a reader, she was not bothered by weak endings if taken on a journey throughout. In fact, she contended, sometimes the misshapenness of a novel could be a strength. Wilkins felt that while it could not be argued that writing improved the author's life, (thus debunking the notion of writing as effective catharsis for author) what it did produce was a piece of work that was FOR someone - FOR a reader.

As for the process of writing, whatever the previous novel's strengths, "there wasn't a guild," maintained Perkins. One wanted to do something different once one's strengths had become habitual. A new novel was always a chance to "repudiate" the previous one she joked. Wilkins contended that the distance between a well established writer and a beginner was in fact very small. 

Both authors then read segments of their work to an attentive audience, and Barrowman wound up by noting an increase in "garrulous speech" in current New Zealand fiction, (as demonstraed by the dialogue-heavy passages in Wilkins's latest novel), and a moving on from the archetypal lonely misunderstood NZ narrator to something more social.

May 19, 2010

AWRF 2010 - Forgotten Victims in a Post 9/11 World

Simon from Readers Services must have been scribbling notes on his takeaway coffee cup, presumably after he'd drained it, to have gotten so much into his write-up. Here it is (you may want to make a coffee first):

Now this was a heavy topic for 10am in the morning - particularly if you'd had a late night, overslept, missed your bus, and found yourself hoofing it from Grey Lynn to the Aotea Centre sans breakfast, walking so fast that coffee was spilling out through the sipper hole in your takeaway cup. But I digress. Thankfully the talk turned out to be so compelling that I soon forgot the less than ideal circumstances under which the morning began. 

The speakers were Michael Otterman, an American journalist and human rights consultant, and Antony Loewenstein, a Jewish-Australian freelance journalist, author and blogger.

Chair Kris Gledhill began by talking of the history of human rights awareness since World War 2. The horrors of the Holocaust were a catalyst for the formation of the U.N and an increasing public awareness of the need for human rights law. The problem, it was contended, was that it was western world human rights that were most protected, and western world human rights abuse that was most reported on by the media. Otterman and Loewenstein, in their capacity as journalists, contended that since 1945 up to the present day many human rights abuses sanctioned by the U.S govenrment were slipping under the mainstream media radar. Victims were being forgotten, and this problem had surged in a post 9/11 world, with many forgotten victims in the Middle East.

The pros and cons of torture as a method of seeking information from suspected terrorists was discussed. Neither Otterman or Lowenstein saw any pros. Lowenstein said there was much evidence that both the victim and the torturer suffered longterm post-traumatic stress disorder as a result. It also led to a lot of false intelligence, as many victims will say whatever they think is being sought from them in order for the torture to end. A further argument against torture was the spreading resentment against the U.S in the Middle East. Al Qaeda numbers had reportedly risen since the release of the Abu Ghraib torture photos in 2004. 

Both men pointed out the failure of the mainstream press to expose the full (and continuing) extent to which torture is being used by the U.S military, and the misleading nature of "Orwellian euphemisms" used such as "enhanced interrogation techniques", and the ultimately sourceless context of any content that begins with "Administration officials say...". These misleading tones were entrenched in compromised media outlets such as Fox News which operated as commercial businesses. 

The lack of coverage was also down to the covert nature of the U.S Government's military legislation, authorising torture techniques like sense deprivation and sleep deprivation in places outside of the U.S such as Guantanamo Bay, some methods of which were still authorised under the Obama regime; not to mention the increasingly common phenomenon of "embedded jourrnalists" whose reporting would inevitably be heavily partisan.  Egypt's torture chambers were discussed, and the disenchanting irony of Obama's speech in Cairo about a new Muslim beginning when there were U.S tax dollar funded torture chambers nearby. 

Aside from the inspiring legacy of independant journalists such as Robert Fisk and Patrick Coburn, both men agreed the internet was a vital tool for the voices of forgotten victims to be heard. Groundbreaking footage and coverage from the "blogsphere," (eg.CNN running twitter feeds during the Iranian uprising, Saudi Arabian youtube clips of women driving in a country where it is illegal for women to drive) was seen as far more vital than so-called "fair balanced journalism," and the most important revelations came from human rights groups rather than journalists. Lowenstein was reluctant to be optimistic about the chances of resolution in the Palestine/Israel situation. Both men hoped that the freedom of the internet could enable a new investigative journalism from inside and outside the Middle East, making true democracy possible.

May 18, 2009

AWRF 2009: Richard Dawkins


Simon from the Readers Services team at Central Library shares his impressions after seeing "Richard Dawkins on the Big Screen":

Richard Dawkins and his finely honed views on religion and its failings in the light of science came to the Auckland Writers & Readers Festival last night. Despite the fact that he was not here in person, but answering questions via televised satellite, the ASB theatre was at almost full capacity, demonstrating what a healthy following books such as The Selfish Gene and The God Delusion have attained. The MC for the night was Sean Plunket, who did an admirable job of coordinating discussion with the "High Priest of Atheism", as Plunket jokingly referred to him. 

Some of the most interesting points of contention (depending on one's own beliefs of course) that I came away with, the points that Dawkins seemed most concerned in getting across to whoever would listen, were thus:

- religion should not be off limits to criticism, in the same way that no scientific hypothesis should be off limits.

- the imposition of  religious cosmologies on children, particularly those concerned with hell and damnation, were a form of child abuse (albeit mental rather than physical), and the way that suicide bombers are bred.

- tolerant liberals must be careful that tolerance does not give way to over-tolerance, as this paves the way for much evil to be done in the name of one's faith.

- Perhaps most pertinently of all considering Dawkins' role as a popular science writer,  a genre often accused of "dumbing down" scientific ideas: the popular scientist's role is to make his ideas as accessible and simple as possible without distorting that idea.

Dawkins also displayed a great sense of humour. When asked how he "avoided" indoctrination to a particular religion growing up he said he'd gone to an Anglican school. Anglicanism was he said "a mild strain of the virus." To close the night Plunket asked what religion Dawkins would choose if his life depended upon it. "Oh for goodness sake. The Church of the Fly and Spaghetti Monster" was the High Priest's reply.

Leaving the Aotea Centre and walking down Queen Street  I saw a man on the corner preaching aggressively to passers by the need to give yourself up to God. The battle rages on.

Intrigrued?

 
Powered by Blogger.