Category Archives: writing

on writing, rewriting, & taking notes

When we get to the other side of this

Indira Ganesan, Sky over Land, 2020

If we are not struggling to put food on the table, if our health is relatively good, we will have become better cooks. We might be healthier because junk food isn’t so readily available (or is it?) It took me three weeks to decide that buying ice cream was not extravagant. We might be better gardeners, better at fixing things that are broken, like leaks.  We might be on the whole more hygienic. Our hands will be cleaner, if drier.  We might look younger because we have relied less on, say, make-up, and chemical beauty fixatives.  We might have gained several pounds.  We might be better read.  We might have taken more classes online, or at least thought about it.  We will have all benefitted by commuting less if we are lucky. Will the ozone be better for our lack of traffic? I hope so.

Yet, every night in my town, packs of cars honk their horns to honor front-line workers in noisy cacophony.  Me, I think, why not light a candle or simply clap hands instead of produce fuel pollution and noise pollution?  What a world of difference between a lovely sprint of music from a clarinet or saxaphone than a car horn.

But I am probably in the minority on this.  Meanwhile, the rain has been streaming all day, and on my balcony, a mourning dove has decided to nest.  In two weeks or less, two little mourning doves might emerge into this world.  She and her partner have built the nest on the metal grid floor, with no cover or protection.  All last night she sat, undeterred.  Today, I think her mate might be taking a turn; he faces the other way.

A siren sounds in the distance.  In this bucolic place I call home, the sound is rare during our not-quite-lockdown.  Is is an accident being responded to, or someone newly sick with Cover-19?  Silence again, except for the rain.

Today I found myself making jam out of strawberries going bad, part of the domestic turn our sheltering in has brought on in the world.  I don’t know what to watch at night, having finished the entire series of Kavanaugh, Q.C., a show I highly recommend.  We want solutions in this world, even if it is a small made-for-tv trial in which the innocent retain their freedom.  I find I cannot comment on the national scandal.

 

 

Music for these times

By the sea: a recording by Anna Phoebe

https://youtu.be/WJPbNBFPd98

I have not had too much to say these days, relishing the quiet, perhaps, though missing seeing other people. Spending far too much time on social media, yet it is often time well spent in terms of discovering moments of beauty. This song is such a one. If you go on instagram and search for Anna Pheobe Music, you will see an amazing collaborative pice on violin and keyboard, dedicated to all the health care workers. Poetry. I hope all if you are keeping well, finding moments of inspiration in the quiet.

Review of Firsts: 100 Years of Yale Younger Poets

Firsts:100 Years of Yale Younger Poets

Carl Phillips, editor. Yale University Press, 2019. 400 pages. $65.00.

By Indira Ganesan

Firsts is a curiously democratic gathering of poems by poets who have won the Yale Younger Poets Prize. The title could stand for the first time these poets were brought into prominence by winning a prize, or that they rank first in the company of poets. Each poet gets three poems, much like the guidelines of a proper contest. At first, the anthology seems to be about the judges. Indeed, the editor has written an introduction that is mostly about the judges of the prize, and if you turn to the end, you will find a list of judges, listed by year, followed by a list of the winning poets. Turning to the poems, you might be mildly irritated that each poet is presented to the reader with a mini cv, stating place of birth, books, and prizes, as well as occupation. Could there be a stuffier volume of poems? What was Carl Phillips thinking, augmenting tweediness with tweed, the fustiness of academia?

Obviously, Phillips knew what he was doing. The judges are after all those who curated what was fit to be a “first,” and guided the way poetry was presented to the public. Diversity as he points out in the excellent introduction, did not arrive with regularity until after 1998, helped by the founding of Cave Canem, which fostered the growth of African American poetry in 1996. Before 1998, only two writers of color, Margaret Walker and Cathy Song, were awarded the prize. He also discusses how World War I had an effect in the psychological makeup of the poets in the series before 1932, with “these poets writing the only poems they could, in the best ways they knew.” Thus, a certain sentimentality enters the verse, before Modernism takes the helm.

As for the selection, after you let out the steam of having read resume after resume of each poet, steam which might arrive at least in part from your own ego, you discover a pretty neat set of poems. Here is Cathy Song describing music as squares of birthday chocolate. Here is Leslie Ullman telling us that “The entire population/has forgotten how the bodies of its women / emerge at night before sleep.” Here is Davis McCombs describing “cave wind” turning to fog, all metaphor and beauty and thinking. Here are James Wright, Alan Dugan, Carolyn Forche, Olga Broumas, and a host of others—most of whose names, I confess, are unknown to me.

One need not read the volume in sequence. Treat it like the I-Ching, and encounter poems randomly. Read each aloud and read again. Let these poems enter your mind and heart, for poets are the wisest among us, who can render language into something comprehensible about the world around us and within us.

Novelist Indira Ganesan was inducted into Phi Beta Kappa at Vassar College in 1982. Her books include The Journey (Alfred A. Knopf, 1990), Inheritance (Alfred A. Knopf, 1998) and As Sweet As Honey (Alfred A. Knopf, 2013).

 

Phi Beta Kappa’s The Key Reporter
(Posted on 3/26/2020 )