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Bezig met laden... Put Your Hands In: Poems (Walt Whitman Award) (Walt Whitman Award of the Academy of American Poets)door Chris Hosea
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"Exactly a century ago, the Armory Show brought European avant-garde art to New York. We are still experiencing its consequences. Among the works on view was Marcel Duchamp's notorious Nude Descending a Staircase, which a derisive critic wanted to rename 'Explosion in a Shingle Factory.' Both titles come to mind as one reads Chris Hosea's Put Your Hands In, which somehow subsumes derision and erotic energy and comes out on top. Maybe that's because 'poetry is the cruelest month,' as he says, correcting T. S. Eliot. Transfixed in midparoxysm, the poems also remind us of Samuel Beckett's line (in Watt): 'The pain not yet pleasure, the pleasure not yet pain.' One feels plunged in a wave of happening that is about to crest." -- John Ashbery, from his judge's citation for the Walt Whitman Award Geen bibliotheekbeschrijvingen gevonden. |
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Google Books — Bezig met laden... GenresDewey Decimale Classificatie (DDC)811.6Literature English (North America) American poetry 21st CenturyLC-classificatieWaarderingGemiddelde:
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Told in many voices, often speaking in the same poem, even the same line, the poems do convey fractured stories and experiences. I found myself underlining lines and parts of lines for their eloquence, though Hosea may hate that word. This volume is for those willing to work at reading by not trying too hard to understand in a traditional prose sense, but simply bathe in the flow of words and let them rumble their meanings.
I did find many poems simply too fractured, pushing past the limits where little can pass between writer and reader, whatever meaning too hidden in the scramble. And there were a few that I just passed off as just an in your face game. Here is a line repeated in "Black Steel":
(thing) (thing) (thing) (thing)
Okay. Not a lot of craft there.
But pass by such exercises in the cool, and you do get gems in the mix:
"she ate night its gaps her dirt pie"
"a ruler to measure poems for a prison frock"
This last line probably is Hosea's negative aesthetic statement. He is fighting a battle long one against the Victorian strictures of verse forms and language. The most radical thing to do today is not to follow the new order established by Stein, Pound, Elliot, Ashberry etc., writers I certainly admire, but to find a new way to make the language of poetry whole again without betraying its soul. Hose finds this too confining and imprisoning.
Ironically, the "shock of the new" is now a new prison. ( )