Poetic Justice?

I was sent a link to an article on the Washington Post website about a group of teenaged kids who broke into Robert Frost‘s old home, and had themselves a party which caused over $10,000 worth of damage.

The twist in the story? Local poet Jay Parini was contacted by the prosecutor in the case:

His idea, which the judge embraced, was that part of the young invaders’ community service would involve discussing Frost’s poetry with me. If they studied with me for a period of time (to be determined by the judge and me), their criminal records in this case would be erased.

I’ll let you read the article yourself for the result. The first thing that struck me (as it did Parini) was offence. Poetry as a punishment?! The kids might think so, but a judge reinforcing that notion?!

Except … this was vandalism of a literary place. Done by people who (presumably) wouldn’t have even considered doing so if they’d had any real appreciation of American poetry, and Robert Frost’s legacy. So yes, it was true “poetic justice” to require them to learn what it was that they had offended against. And Frost was always a poet of common people’s dramas – most of his characters are working class, usually poor, almost always decent. And his poems always echo with the notion of community. Even solitary poems like “Stopping Woods on a Snowy Evening” have that sense of communion, of being part of something beyond yourself. Humility and gratitude. And reverence. Even in the midst of grief. Even in the midst of joy.

I have a friend who once told me that she hadn’t been able to enjoy Robert Frost until she read about his background in rural America. Everything clicked the moment she understood where he was coming from. The context of his work, of his thoughts, his beliefs.

If you think about it, context is what these drunken kids were missing.
And the irony something Frost would have appreciated.

Things you learn from CSI

Watching an old episode of CSI NY (now known in our house as “CSI Implausible”) I came across an interesting titbit of information. Apparently there are three different sorts of tears:

Basal tears: In healthy mammalian eyes, the cornea is continually kept wet and nourished by basal tears. They lubricate the eye and help to keep it clear of dust. Tear fluid contains water, mucin, lipids, lysozyme, lactoferrin, lipocalin, lacritin,immunoglobulins, glucose, urea, sodium, and potassium. Some of the substances in lacrimal fluid fight against bacterialinfection as a part of the immune system.

2. Reflex tears: The second type of tears results from irritation of the eye by foreign particles, or from the presence of irritant substances such as onion vapors, tear gas or pepper spray in the eye’s environment. These reflex tears attempt to wash out irritants that may have come into contact with the eye.

3. Crying or weeping (psychic tears): The third category, generally referred to as crying orweeping, is increased lacrimation due to strong emotional stress, suffering or physical pain. This practice is not restricted to negative emotions; many people cry when extremely happy. In humans, emotional tears can be accompanied by reddening of the face and sobbing —cough-like, convulsive breathing, sometimes involving spasms of the whole upper body. Tears brought about by emotions have a different chemical make up than those for lubrication; emotional tears contain more of the protein-based hormones prolactin, adrenocorticotropic hormone, and leucineenkephalin (a natural painkiller) than basal or reflex tears. The limbic system is involved in production of basic emotional drives, such as anger, fear, etc. The limbic system, specifically the hypothalamus, also has a degree of control over the autonomic system. The parasympathetic branch of the autonomic system controls the lacrimal glands via the neurotransmitter acetylcholine through both the nicotinic and muscarinic receptors. When these receptors are activated, the lacrimal gland is stimulated to produce tears. 

[the above details from Wikipedia].

Fascinating, isn’t it?

I cry easily these days. It drives me nuts. The trouble is, when you start to cry people stop listening. As though it’s your brain that’s running, not just your eyes! Bah.

CV for a good First Reader?

I was talking to someone about writing the other day, and mentioned how vital a good First Reader was. He had no idea what I was talking about, so I explained – the first person I show a new piece of writing to, for honest (often “brutal”) feedback and comment.

I’d always assumed the term was in common use among writers, but when I did a quick Google it seems to be a term used mainly (online at least) to refer to the poor sods who do the initial reading through and culling of a publishers’ slush pile. Oh, and a “learn to read!” primer. And (bizarrely, according to Merriam-Webster Online) “a Christian Scientist chosen to conduct meetings for a specified time and specifically to read aloud from the writings of Mary Baker Eddy”.

I’m lucky – I have three or four people who I show my work to and who offer me useful feedback. But one friend in particular is my essential partner in editing. We’ve been swapping poems for … blimey, ten years now. We’re both of a roughly similar skill level (although she’s got a couple of books to her name, whereas I’m still pimping mine), and both enjoy many (but not all) of the same sorts of writing. But the most important thing of all is that she knows me really well. Insanely well. And I know her. And we are able to be completely honest with each other. (See “brutal”, above.) It saves so much time! If she praises a poem, I don’t have to wonder if she really means it or is just being nice because I’m having a lousy week. If I’m feeling fragile, she gives me a big hug first, and a tissue after.

There are times when we completely miss the point with each other’s work – misunderstand a line, or give one image the wrong interpretation. Which sucks, I have to admit – for a moment or two it feels like an abandonment, but because we’ve been doing this for each other for so long, that feeling only lasts a moment or two. We both can (and have, and do!) stamp our feet and say “you’re not paying attention! You’re missing the whole point!” And then we get back to it. Sometimes we disagree. Vehemently! And that’s fine too.

She knows my work intimately. She knows all of my bad poetry habits, all my “reflex phrases”, all the Joanna clichés. And points them out. It’s got to the point where we virtually know what the other will say before it gets said – very useful, to have internalized like that!

So, what to look for in a First Reader?

• Similar level of skill – if the person is too far ahead of you, it becomes a mentor-pupil thing. You need to be able to reciprocate – not only for fairness, but also because your work will improve if you play critic as well as recipient. An equal relationship aids you both.
• Similar tastes – if one of you is a passionate Post Modernist and the other a fervent Neo-Formalist, then you’re likely to experience some problems. You should at least be sympathetic to each others’ work.
• Honesty – No point picking someone who is always kind. It wastes too much time. You have to be able to divorce your comments from everything except the poem … not always easy, especially if the person you’re critiquing is Mother Theresa.
• Availability – you need to know that they will be able to look at your work reasonably regularly.

Anything I’ve missed?