Angels, Neruda, Odom's poetry and more: a roundup

odom_bookComing soon: What begins Michael Odom's book of poetry "Strutting Attracting Snapping" isn't a poem... it's a picture. A sheet of grid paper with a maze written in pencil. The maze has a "Start" and a "Finish" and a lot of twists and meaningful detours in between... and it's much like the experience of reading Odom's powerful chapbook. Look for a Q & A with the author to appear here, at Call of the Siren, very soon. Young readers: How do we  improve our children's reading ability? I think of that all the time, especially as mine grow older and I realize that I can share more of my book interests with them. There's a great comments thread that you might unspool at Games4Learning and gain some helpful ideas to try at home.

Harper Lee: Won't she live forever? It's been impossible to think of the real Scout as susceptible to time and declining health, but then I learned about her  unfortunate situation with her agent and the copyright of "To Kill a Mockingbird." Rather than brood on that, though, I have a question for Ms. Lee: Why won't you say something about your novel's creation before it's too late? If it's a one-off and you never found the right material to make another, then why not say so? (Plenty of "one and done" authors would find deep consolation in what she has to say.)  On the other hand, if Truman Capote helped her to write it,  why not admit it and give credit where it's due? It might be a sore spot, especially for so many years' recognition as the book's sole author, but if someone's going to have a co-author, they could do far worse than Capote, don't you think?

snake12Holy angels, Batman: The Red Serpent takes a pithy, sardonic look at angels as the first comic book superheroes in a new post. What line did I especially like? This one, on something that angels and superheroes have in common: "Items of clothing that closely resemble lingerie or underwear." Check it out. Definitely worth your time.

Pablo NerudaDeathproof: Pablo Neruda was unearthed to decide whether or not he died from a lethal injection given by Augusto Pinochet's regime. So far, the early tests reveal that he had advanced cancer. If anyone deserves to be called a superhero besides an angel -- see item above  -- it's Neruda. He was a superhero for Chile. Whatever the results of the exhumation -- whether death by cancer or poison -- the same's not true of his poetry.  His poetry's immortal. Bullet-proof. That's what Ilan Stavans points out in a lovely item in the New York Times, and that's what Neruda also says, about poetry's power even in the darkest moments, in "A Song of Despair":

Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost, I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you.

Stop the presses

The sidewalk internet, circa 1902. Considering the hits that the print media business has taken in recent years, it shouldn't come as a surprise that CareerCast.com has identified newspaper reporting as the worst job of 2013.

It's never been an easy job -- you're constantly on call and on deadline -- but that's what makes it such an honorable profession. But the other aspects of the business today -- less job openings, constant threat of layoffs, squeezing the life out of shrinking staffs of writers -- were the deciding factors in CareerCast's assessment.

I read the item with a feeling somewhere between relief (my own relief) and sympathy for colleagues still on the front lines. And I couldn't help thinking of all those great mythic figures in art -- from Penn Warren's Jack Burden to the unnamed reporter questing after Rosebud's identity in "Citizen Kane" -- that partly inspire you to consider that profession in the first place.

What are some other reporter-characters in literature? Lucien Chardon in Balzac's "Lost Illusions" -- does he count, even though he's just a hack? Peter Fallow in Wolfe's "Bonfire of the Vanities"? The character of "John Berendt" in "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil"? Who else? Lend me your thoughts.

I envy -- and worry about -- all those young college grads with journalism aspirations. They're entering a world where headlines aren't the brightest about their chosen vocation, and yet it's an occupation that's needed the most -- without reporters, how else do you keep the rest of the world honest?

Weary, weary, weary

"There is an air of malaise within the painting," notes one critic about Laus Veneris by Edward Burne-Jones. I couldn't agree more. You ever want to think about cool things and share them on the blog, but you can't? A busy week's kept away the Call of the Siren, and it's made me feel like the unhappy-looking lady on the right side of this Burne-Jones  painting, Laus Veneris.

I think we're both feeling the same thing, but she looks way better than I do in red.

Some painful reading

Dante Gabriel Rossetti: Beata Beatrix, ca 1864-70.Here is the look of a great lady on the verge of death. Here is also the look of something else: What it feels like to read a bad book review.

I love the grim, gray pages of the Times Literary Supplement -- make that grim, grey pages -- even though the reading can get pretty tough at times, especially when you stumble on a bad review. They're not exactly hatchet jobs, but they seem just as pointless.

I was disappointed -- and a bit dismayed -- by a recent TLS piece on two translations of Dante's Vita Nova by a fellow who hasn't finished his doctorate yet.

It didn't bother me that he didn't care for the version by a guy I've worked with before -- Andrew Frisardi -- but it's all the high-minded nonsense in his criticism that's hard to take. It's the I-know-Dante-better-than-Dante-himself tone that all graduate Lit students suffer from (speaking from experience here).

"One wonders," the review says about a modern euphemism Frisardi uses, "whether the quest for modernity extends to political correctness. How else to explain the female subject of 'acts cool' when the Italian has a genderless (etymologically masculine) 'colui'?"

This graf is so full of posturing that I'm not going to waste space on an explanation.

A few lines later, there's a nice backhanded compliment: "Where Frisardi's edition excels is in its use of current scholarship. With over 200 pages of notes... it is surely intended for students, though echoing their speech in the lyric is a questionable strategy."

"it is surely intended..." Good grief.  That sounds like the assessment of someone who never steps outside or takes a break from the books. Or hasn't read David R. Slavitt. Or Lowell's imitations.

I'm adding this to my folder of bad examples of book reviews -- right alongside a ridiculously negative review (also in the TLS) of Arthur Phillips' novel The Tragedy of Arthur by an Elizabethan scholar who didn't think Phillips' Shakespearean verse was Shakespearean enough.

If you're ever the subject of such a review, my friends, please take heart. Even though the printed page gives validity to these pieces, try to work through your feelings and just remember that your most important critic should be you (etymologically neutral).

Readin', Writin' and RLS

Robert_Louis_Stevenson_portrait_by_Girolamo_NerliWhat image do you  see when you hear the word "Frankenstein"? Chances are, it’s Boris Karloff (avec neck bolts and platform boots) -- not the brooding, sewn-together creature who hides in a woodshed and reads John Milton (in Shelley’s novel). I really hate that.

Movies and other popular media have ruined that gothic story, just as they’ve  ruined  another incredible story, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson.

We know that the title refers to the same character — even people who haven't read the story know that! But 19th century readers didn’t. I envy them. Can you imagine what it was like to get walloped in the head by the surprise ending? Try to put yourself in their minds for a minute and you’ll understand why,

What a truly brilliant twist. Absolutely perfect. And it still holds up after all these years.

That’s because Stevenson is amazing  — in spite of getting treated all the time as a writer of boys' adventure tales.

He knew how to put a good story together, and we were reminded of that fact earlier this week with the news that a lost Stevenson essay (well, part of one) had been found.

Published in issue 39 of The Strand Magazine, the essay  “Books and Reading. No 2. How books have to be written” is sharp, solid, practical. Among his comments:

“In the trash that I have no doubt you generally read, a vast number of people will probably get shot and stabbed and drowned; and you have only a very slight excitement for your money.”

"Such a quantity of twaddling detail would simply bore the reader’s head off.”

Love it. Give yourself a little treat this weekend. Swallow a dose of literary amnesia and read Stevenson’s “Strange Case” if you have it.  It’s not a long book. You'll be done in an afternoon. Marvel at its construction. Then, when you turn to your own manuscript again, I bet you’ll find that you’ve learned something that helps. It's happened for me.

Good luck, my friends.