Tag: review

Patience – your writing finds the right audience

Have you ever written something that developed a life — even an audience — unexpected? The final chapter of a literary biography I read recently featured an introductory note that caught my attention. The author stated that of all the essays he had written during his long career the final essay of the book received the most attention. And the most requests for permission to reprint it in various publications.

Those were different days, I reflected. A time when permission was requested to reprint material an effort to share thoughtful writings. Rather than copy, paste, click and post.

In a very small way, a similar observance was made regarding a piece I wrote more than a decade ago.

This was back in the days before iPhones, Facebook, or Twitter. A time when SMS messaging — later texting — was a novelty that would be the most used mobile data service. But that was a couple years away.

A reader of my blog requested a review of a poem. I was suspicious of the request. Thought it might be a college student seeking someone to write his or her literature paper. I accepted the challenge.

At the time, I was writing book reviews, essays, interviews and such. Mostly for local publications. But a few journals and magazines on the West Coast published some of my work. I reached out to Len Fulton of Small Press Review and asked if I could submit the poem review. He graciously agreed.

I wrote a review of Charles Simic’s poem “Old Soldier” in an esoteric manner that could not easily be passed off as a high school literature paper. I sent off the review for publication. And waited. Months went by. Issue after issue of Small Press Review arrived in the mail box. Impatient, I posted an abridged, clumsy version of the review on my blog. A month later I submitted it to editor, publisher, and friend Pasckie Pascua who published it in the September 2005 edition of The Indie. When the November-December 2005 issue of Small Press Review arrived I was surprised to see my review had — in fact — been published.

The review of Simic’s poem “Old Soldier” remains one of the most read posts on this blog. It is embarrassing to me for a couple reasons. One, the lack of virtue in my life. The selfish rush to be published. Patience is a virtue I am still learning to practice. Another reason for the embarrassment is that the online, perennial version of the review is a shadow of the original. The writing that appeared in the Small Press Review has never been released online. And maybe that is best for now.

The review of the poem is the final chapter of a book manuscript I finished. As of this writing it remains unpublished. But maybe one day it will greet an audience of its own. And maybe wander online as well.

Interview/Review: Deborah Crooks’ Prayer for the World

It was a cold November night when I entered The Grey Eagle as Deborah Crooks performed her songs for The Traveling Bonfires benefit concert. After taking some photos of her for The Indie, I found a corner spot opposite the bar where I could see half the stage.

I opened my notebook and listened to Deborah finish one of her original songs. She introduced her last song by celebrating that she is a lapsed Catholic, Hindu, Buddhist. Her confession received modest applause from a growing crowd. Deborah closed her set with a prayer for the world.

One of the lines from her last song caught my attention: “Walked alone with all my doubt…” I thought of how heavy doubt can be. The weight of not knowing or not wanting to know or questioning what you already know.

Deborah Crooks finished her prayer for the world and the next act began setting up their musical equipment. More people joined a small gathering in the music hall as others bought drinks at the bar. Over the house speakers a bluegrass number played the lyrics: “bare me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home.”

I noticed Deborah at the bar. She wore a dark brown coat which matched her dark wavy hair and deep brown eyes. She waited for a bit before the bar staff warmed her mug with hot coffee. Slowly she walked back to the “green room” off stage right, retrieved her guitar and again slowly, maybe even meditatively, walked to the back of the music hall and found a seat.

I invited Deborah back to my table and asked her to tell me about the last song she sang. It has quite a history, she told me. It includes the death of her father, a World War II vet, and witnessing the World Trade Centers collapse.

In exploring her roots, Deborah discovered a parallel path between her father’s liberation efforts during W.W.II and her own personal liberation through ashtanga yoga. “Writing and singing is where I find my direction” she told me as she discussed finding faith through the conflicting messages of being in New York City for a yoga event and witnessing the tragedy of 9-11.

Like many fathers and daughters, there were struggles between her and her father which she sought to reconcile before his death. Without out going into personal details she summarized, “The same things that get between people get between countries.”

The next musical act had assembled on stage and begun to belt out their first song. We realized that our discussion about liberation would have to be continued later. She quickly concluded, “We’re all looking for the same thing—a haven, a home.”

(c) Matthew Mulder. All rights reserved.
Originally published in The Indie, December 2005

Poem Review: “Old Soldier” by Charles Simic

About four months ago I wrote a review of a poem by Charles Simic for an editor, but I have not received word as to its status. So, here’s an abbreviated form of the review.

A couple months ago, my son and I planted seven white pine saplings along the east side of the property. As a three-year old, he doesn’t really “plant” trees but rather roams the near vicinity in search of new wonders to discover. Each dandelion must be plucked and examined and each twig must be picked up and relocated. A chestnut branch, which had fallen during a recent storm, particularly interested his imagination. With chestnut branch in hand, my son defended the homestead from cardinals, squirrels and a trespassing cat.

As I recall my three-year son chasing a yellow rubber ball across the backyard and waving his chestnut branch over his head, I think of how new readers of poetry need to wade into the greater pool of literature by first enjoying what will get their feet wet. This doesn’t diminish the quality of Simic’s work but rather supports the notion that if a poet can speak to the children he will be able to guide them into a broader, deeper appreciation for poetry. The Academy of American Poets recently cited, in their 2003-2004 annual report, that 68% of their active members became interested in poetry before the age of 18.

“Old Soldier” opens with a list of credentials and a storyteller’s wink of wit. The image of this warrior wanting to impishly pull the tail of “a cat lying in the grass” suggests a mischievous tone for Simic’s 22-line poem. The mother figure introduces a contrast of gentleness and the serene garden solitude against the “flying cinders” of aerial bombardment. What’s interesting about the mother figure is that she doesn’t leave the soldier alone but takes him “by the hand.” It’s tempting to wonder if this is a historical account or merely a narrative. Vernon Young, a contributor to the Hudson Review, suggests that Simic writes “by the fable; his method is to transpose historical actuality into a surreal key.“

Simic tells that the soldier’s sword was cardboard and only lacked a horse–particularly a horse which pulled “a hearse/With a merry wave of his tail.” The last lines are striking in that they suggest a ten-year old boy who chooses a funeral horse for his military campaigns instead of a warhorse. Ripe imagery presents numerous literary interpretations.