A nod to what's come before

As a writer my version of utopia is simply a place where knowledge and appreciation of the written word stands for something. It would be the sort of place where knowing Chaucer and Shakespeare could actually help you nail an interview or help your job applications stand out from the rest. Thus far, it seems like Hellenistic Greece is the place most like what I envision for this utopia of mine.

Except change Chaucer and Shakespeare for Homer.

And throw in an education system involving rote learning and the repetition of phrases. And don't forget tossing the copying of fables and aphorisms until their meaning becomes a numbed mass, collapsed before any reader into the mix as well.

That's the horror that Marrou sets out in his look at Hellinistic literature instruction. It's a place where creativity is stifled, and yet there's a refreshing lack of fear around being unoriginal. If an Hellenistic poet referred to one of his or her ancient ancestors of the craft, it would be lauded. Unlike today, where there's a constant push to do things new and novel. But at least we've got our creativity.

This chapter wasn't just about building up my own expectations of there ever having been a literary utopia and then tearing them down, though. In it Marrou makes a very poignant observation: As a civilization concretizes its culture's forms and values those forms and values make their way from the halls of the civilization's highest education down into its primary schools. An example of this process in our own society is computer programming.

At one time computer programming was reserved for university and college students (in part because only institutions could afford and house the room-sized processors we had to deal with). But now, computer programming is a common course in high schools, and no doubt has some presence in elementary curricula, too.

Marrou's observation is thus a look at his thesis (that a civilization's most prized values and culture is to be found in its educational system) in living motion. Perhaps it's a bit of a self-aggrandizing move, but if it's there, it's there.

Lay Away Book Special: The Acheron Moves Quickly

Well, Jasper Fforde definitely does not disappoint. After introducing Acheron Hades and his mysterious powers, he jumps full on into the weird and wild. Though, it looks like it may be a chapter or two more before Thursday Next, the main character, catches on to just what the weirdness around her and around Acheron is.

Fforde also continues to use Victorian lit as a touchstone for the sort of writing people would form serious political factions around (as well as Shakespeare). Such use of Victorian literature is a pet peeve of mine, but given that this is the first book in the Thursday Next series, it would be perhaps too bold of Fforde to jump right into a Chaucer or Beowulf manuscript. I'm sure one or the other comes up in a later book - or at least that is my hope.

The Victorians may have written a few good things, but too many people admire the flower while forgetting the stem and the root. Neither may be as pretty as the blossom, but of all the parts of the edible flowering plant that is literature, the root and the stem are much more complex and nutritious.

A Review after Crossing the Hill

Hollander finishes off The Work of Poetry with an entry that breaks his pattern. Where the rest of his featured poets were American, he ends with some words on Geoffrey Hill, of England. Though the same could be said of the previous chapter on May Swenson, Hollander here spends his words in unequivocal praise. And with good reason - his showcase of Geoffrey Hill really does make him sound like an incredible poet whose works are indeed dense.

However, I wonder why other nations weren't represented. Canada certainly has some great poets, and Ireland definitely does (Seamus Heaney, and Derek Mahon spring to mind). That doesn't even touch on works in translation, though that does raise questions about translation that would only join those of a poet's skill that Hollander more than eagerly asks.

On the whole, Hollander's book is an excellent "welcome back" book for anyone who's studied poetry before. He wastes no time re-introducing concepts of meter or structure, and immediately seizes on just what poetry does. However, he also gives an unabashedly positive look at all of the poets he writes about, providing no negative examples. These are important for poetry, since it's sometimes easier to see what works by knowing what doesn't.

Hollander also gives an unfair focus to American and English poets considering his title is "The Work of Poetry" and not "The Work of Poetry in the Modern English Speaking World." He writes of some early modern and ancient poets briefly, but his overarching lack of variety in the poets he writes about undermines somewhat his belief that true poetry is something that can be mined for meaning nearly endlessly. If he believes that it's not necessary to go over such old fields as Chaucer or the early works of Anglo Saxon poetry since all the new corn's been harvested, he does not make this clear.

So, those looking for a refresher course on poetry in general could do better as far as the variety of poets featured is concerned. Those seeking a refresher course in modernist American poetry, though, have picked up just the right title.

"Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote"

Any scholar who goes in depth about Chaucer has to be a good one. Why is that, you might well wonder? Because Chaucer is the poet to turn to when Shakespeare gets too easy. Also, because he's one of the Bard's inspirations. The biggest problem with Chaucer, though, is that his English is 200 years older than Shakespeare's. Because of this difference, Chaucer's spelling, vocabulary, and diction are all much more foreign than even Shakespeare's can be. 

But the rewards of reading Chaucer are sweet indeed. Especially if you're drawn to simply the sound of language. Middle English, unlike the Norman French that heavily influenced it, doesn't have silent letters, so reading it isn't tough to pick up. Though, you still need to learn some different vowel sounds to be able to fully appreciate his works.

Along for the ride in chapter three is how dreams relate to poetry and vice versa. Reading it makes me wonder what Hollander has to say about Blake's "The Angel," though.