So weird, so weird: I listened to your reading of this post and strained—strained! I tell you!—to attach the voice to my "Memories of Chuck" and still—still! I tell you!—could not make the connection. I just don't recognize what I'm hearing as Chuck. Clearly, my problem, but . . . jeez: so weird, so weird. But, my personal disconnects aside, a righteous post: thanks for the Smiley: had not known before, but have to nod in agreement now; and props for touting MOBY DICK, which as you note is one of those novels you have to meet at the right time: it took me more than one try, too, but when it hit: well, holy [expletive] Batman! that's one amazing novel! And yeah, Vive is spot on with her "Love." One quibble (because that's my raison d'être, apparently, quibbling): In Hoagland's poem, what's with that 3-line stanza doing jammed into the middle of a poem of 4-line stanzas? Why did he establish a 4-line stanza convention and then violate it? Just once. I don't get it. If you're going to go to the trouble of establishing a "form" for an otherwise free-verse poem, why not follow through all the way? [Hoagland is not the only poet who did/does shit like this, but it really, really bugs me when anyone does it, y'know?]
I'm definitely on Team Melville with you, it took me a few swings, but now the novel lives on in my brain like Ulysses. Putting aside the "whaling chapters," it's easy to think it's a pretty simple and straightforward tale, but there's stuff going on there that the more I reflect on it, the more it strikes me as an example of "weird" lit. Definitely want to read that again, but it's more of a fall/winter book for me.
Recall in my interview with the cosmologist-artist (if you made it all the way to the end!) that Ulysses was one of three books everyone (at least everyone who wants to be a serious artist) must read. That's the thing with those tough books; once you make it through once, you realize what the big deal is, and you want to climb them again.
This one is worth reading twice just to savor lines like "Holy fat frog’s ass already." Love!
So weird, so weird: I listened to your reading of this post and strained—strained! I tell you!—to attach the voice to my "Memories of Chuck" and still—still! I tell you!—could not make the connection. I just don't recognize what I'm hearing as Chuck. Clearly, my problem, but . . . jeez: so weird, so weird. But, my personal disconnects aside, a righteous post: thanks for the Smiley: had not known before, but have to nod in agreement now; and props for touting MOBY DICK, which as you note is one of those novels you have to meet at the right time: it took me more than one try, too, but when it hit: well, holy [expletive] Batman! that's one amazing novel! And yeah, Vive is spot on with her "Love." One quibble (because that's my raison d'être, apparently, quibbling): In Hoagland's poem, what's with that 3-line stanza doing jammed into the middle of a poem of 4-line stanzas? Why did he establish a 4-line stanza convention and then violate it? Just once. I don't get it. If you're going to go to the trouble of establishing a "form" for an otherwise free-verse poem, why not follow through all the way? [Hoagland is not the only poet who did/does shit like this, but it really, really bugs me when anyone does it, y'know?]
I'm definitely on Team Melville with you, it took me a few swings, but now the novel lives on in my brain like Ulysses. Putting aside the "whaling chapters," it's easy to think it's a pretty simple and straightforward tale, but there's stuff going on there that the more I reflect on it, the more it strikes me as an example of "weird" lit. Definitely want to read that again, but it's more of a fall/winter book for me.
Of course, and not mentioned...Ulysses is on their list as well. It's like they hate us!
Recall in my interview with the cosmologist-artist (if you made it all the way to the end!) that Ulysses was one of three books everyone (at least everyone who wants to be a serious artist) must read. That's the thing with those tough books; once you make it through once, you realize what the big deal is, and you want to climb them again.
I made it! (I think I said this before: I took a summer class in grad school where we read Ulysses twice in three weeks.)
Societas abducit ;)