In 1989, Donald Hall wrote an essay, "Death to the Death of Poetry," in which he addressed a modern-day rumor concerning the demise of American verse. Focusing on two essays that proclaim poetry's death, he refutes their arguments by confronting a number of allegations used to support the charge. Almost a generation later, with the rumor routinely promoted as fact, Hall's refutation remains as relevant today as it was in 1989.
Confronting an Unfounded Indictment
Hall begins by examining "poetry" as a term in contemporary culture. He observes that its usage has little to do with literary purposes, instead serving as a synonym for excellence and beauty in motion. He then confronts us with a popular myth, the 'universalized' assumption that no one reads poetry anymore; that the situation is becoming progressively worse; and that poets themselves are responsible.
After all, everyone knows that only poets read contemporary poetry - an allegation affirmed by the limited market for poetry books relative to other literary disciplines. Worse yet, poetry today offers none of the beauty (and little of the artistic rigor) that made poetry of earlier eras a vital part of any nation's cultural heritage. It seems that American poets have become detached from culture itself, wandering in a narcissistic wasteland of self-celebration and literary obliquity - an allegation that is seemingly legitimized by poetry's diminishing readership.
Developing his refutation, Hall counters two arguments: Edmund Wilson's 1928 essay, "Is Verse a Dying Technique," and Joseph Epstein's 1988 counterpart, "Who Killed Poetry". He notes that both compare poetry of their contemporary eras to that of supposed Golden Ages of the past. In Wilson's argument, the "sharpness and energy" found in earlier generations was seriously lacking in his own day. Conversely, Epstein views Wilson's dismissed generation as a standard to which poets of his own era pale in comparison.
In both cases, Hall notes a weary, ongoing formula of dismay (repeated by critics, essayists, professors, and journalists) supported by the evidence of poetry's equally dismal sales. To counter their doomsday proclamations, Hall emphasizes the popularity of poetry readings (a rarity until the 1950's), and the success of journals like American Poetry Review (with a subscription base of 20,000) that might have been unthinkable in earlier eras. He further mentions the healthy sales of popular collections - including more than a million copies of one book, Lawrence Ferlinghetti's Coney Island of the Mind.
A Generation Later?
Clearly, in Hall's view, poetry in 1989 was anything but dead. But now, 21 years later, is his case still relevant? Hasn't it become increasingly evident that new developments have taken poetry in obscure directions, alienating a reading public that is confounded with the self-absorbed art of poets who have lost touch with their own dwindling base of readership?
Limited sales always seem to be an issue. In March 2009, a Newsweek article by Marc Bain ("The End of Verse?") notes poetry's declining readership despite institutional efforts to broaden public exposure. While Bain's article balances bookseller statistics with a broader view that takes into account organized efforts to expand readership and familiarity, other voices are frequently more grim.
In the Land of Blogs
In a recent post on his "Poem Shape" blog, Patrick Gillespie bemoans the institutions of which Bain reports, instead advocating a Friedmanesque scenario in which only writers who can support themselves through sales remain active in the field. He criticizes the academy (and availability of grants) while claiming:
"The current culture, in which poetry is written for and supported by poets has created a kind of state-sanctioned poetry that resists innovation. When and if poetry is ever made to answer to the broader public, then we may begin to see some great poetry again – the greatness that is the collaboration between audience and artist."
While not declaring poetry dead, Gillespie advocates its demise so that it might rise again, Phoenix-like, from the ashes, renewed by a market-based climate in which audience plays a deciding role. In Gillespie's scenario, poetry's decline is equally shared by the academy, foundations, successful journals, and MFA poets who cater to institutional demands far removed from both audience and the innovation of genuine poetics.
While Gillespie makes some legitimate points, it's difficult to reconcile his argument in favor of a market economy (which ultimately treats poetry as a commodity) with the idea of poetry as a living art form that develops according to its own dynamics. His critique gives a reader pause for thought, but sales and creativity don't necessarily work toward the same end. As such, Gillespie's argument seems like just another proclamation that "great poetry" is a thing of the past, unobtainable from the practices of our current era.
An Alternative View
Innovative poets rightly bemoan their lack of recognition by the formal institutions of poetry, but that doesn't keep them from writing quality verse or gaining exposure. With the rise of Internet publishing, more journals and books are made available every day. As new audiences form, and discourse broadens, other 'markets' (not based on sales) inspire a variety of practices from which great poetry can still emerge.
Affirming the quality of poetry in his own day, Hall also observed: "If you write about Poetry Now, you must acknowledge that most poetry is terrible--that most poetry of any moment is terrible." Looking to past eras for a standard of excellence, what we don't remember is that every era is predominated by verse that cannot stand the test of time. More significant than remembrance, though, is the principal that art forms live because they are practiced in the present tense. Issues of quality take care of themselves.
And Now?
Today, more people write and publish poetry than ever before. Some believe this contributes to poetry’s decline - as if quality were an attribute that is lost in popular practice. Considered from an alternate view point, we might ask: if everyone who loved music were to take up an instrument and learn to play, would we then declare the death of music? (Not likely.)
Another article from Suite101: The State of Poetry
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