Sunday, January 30, 2011
Writing without soul
Miranda says at the beginning of their relationship that Bernard writes as if he has no soul. Years later, Bernard says, “Roman, your self is never present in the poems. You seem to risk nothing.” Is this what makes great poetry, in your opinion? That someone has to be vulnerable, has to risk something, has to reveal – in some way – one’s soul?
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My impression from the descriptions of Roman's poetry is that it was mechanically expert (in a way that would impress other poets) and little more. He had mastered the form, but his content wasn't all that inspired. It lacked the element of surprise or was devoid of a certain life force, like a singer who has been trained to flawlessly hit all the notes of a song but whose voice is nevertheless impersonal/generic. It's technically great but "bloodless."
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure. I suppose vulnerability and risk and revelation are necessary conditions for poetry to be great, but they certainly aren't sufficient. I'm sure there's no shortage of folks baring their souls through poetry (just look at any high school yearbook that prints student submissions -- I'm sure there are a few that are deeply personal), but there is a shortage of great poetry.
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