The difference between poetry and prose

Words exist that can, when used by a poet, achieve a dim monochrome of the body’s love, but beyond that they fail miserably. – John Wyndham, The Crysalids

Gustave Dore's illustration of the Ancient Mariner (from Wikimedia Commons)

Going into poetry next cycle I’m having some mixed feelings. I like reading poetry, I love hearing poetry, especially when it has something to say. But I can’t write it worth a lick. I have a lot more practice writing prose, and, well, you can judge how well I can do that.

I’ve always wanted to be able to write poetry. I’ve always liked the John Wyndham quote cited above. Poetry can be expressive in a way that prose can’t. Yet prose can tell a story in ways that poetry cannot. There is, of course, a long history of story poems. The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner was a constant companion when I was bicycling solo around Lake Superior.

At any rate, Brian Beglin has a wonderful review of a novel written by a poet (Margo Berdeshevsky) (found via the Daily Dish). Belgin writes that often the combination does not quite mesh, and in working through why not he comes to the conclusion that poetic phrase do not work in prose because:

When poets write fiction, it can sometimes read like a transfer student trying to navigate the unfamiliar hallways of a new school. Sometimes this works to brilliant effect, as the poet can put a fresh shine on the fiction writer’s familiar tools. In Simon Van Booy’s The Secret Lives of People in Love, the sentences feel brisk, bright, exact, like blocks of ice chiseled into smooth, brimming faces. Conversely, Berdeshevsky’s sentences seem to ache for line breaks, for the leaps and turns vital to a poem but often detrimental to fiction: “There’s a noise she is not waiting for. Scratching like—a light knocking—and again a scratching, as of unsheathed nails on her door.” Craft-wise, these bursts of language are fascinating; yet they have the net effect of poetry: they stop time with their beauty. They can bring a story—which relies on forward momentum, on cause and effect—to a halt.

Not having read the books he references I can’t opine on if he’s right or wrong, however, it is a beautiful distinction he makes: poetic sentences stop time with their beauty, but you don’t want to stop anything when you’re telling a story.

Rock band and the choice of poetry

Popular music lyrics have been used to introduce students to poetry (Brenda Guerra has a nice lesson plan on the subject). We recently had an overnight at the school and the students elected to play Rock Band. It was clearly indicated that the songs they played would have to have language acceptable to the Middle School. Among the song choices they made was Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer”.

I’d considered “Living on a Prayer” as one option for poetry reading but rejected it because I wasn’t sure that lines like, “she brings home her pay for love” would be quite appropriate. What I found most interesting was that even though they sung the song, they did not actually know the words. The game appears to only require them to make sounds of the right length and maybe pitch. So the singing sounded like, “Tommy used to blah blah blah blah.”

So now I think I’ll use the song, but I’m curious to see the response. Will the fact that it’s something they are aware of and play in a game make it more interesting to them? Or will it work the opposite way? We’ll find out.

This song also introduces issues of unions and the way the arts reflect society, both overtly and, in this case apparently, hidden in the music.

Best science fiction? (without John Wyndham and The Chrysalids?)

Triffid nebula (from NASA).

I discovered science fiction in my early teens but it was always hard to find the great stories in the midst of a lot of drivel. This list of 100 good science fiction and fantasy books seems to be a good start. Most of the books on the list are worthy, but it completely misses John Wyndham (The Chrysalids among others) and Brian Stableford (e.g. War Games). There are also a few that bored me to tears (Bradley’s Avalon) and some that I did not think were very well written (Crichton’s Sphere).

I like science fiction because it tends to deal with some of the big issues that adolescents are facing. Who am I, what’s the future going to be like, what does it mean to be human, what’s my place in society, and of course, wouldn’t it be nice it everyone just disappeared and I had the world all to myself? You also get to tie it in to the Natural World and Social World curriculum.

The Chrysalids is a great example. A post-apocalyptic novel, it looks at, among other things, institutional discrimination, the conflict between science and religion, and evolutionary theory (with it’s darker side eugenics). Wyndham addresses these issues with interesting characters and wonderful, intelligent storytelling (with a heroic journey). I’ve used this book as part of the life sciences curriculum for the tie-in to evolution, and to the history of the Cold War. But I also bring it up when we discuss human rights and discrimination.

Silk

How to make silk using the traditional method, by the American Museum of Natural History.

I’ve loved Barry Hughart’s novel, “Bridge of Brids” from the first time I read it a number of years ago. It is the story of a peasant boy, Number Ten Ox, who, with the assistance of the drunken sage Master Li, has to save the children of his village by unraveling the mystery of the powerful Duke of Chin. Not only is it beautifully written, with a poetic story arc and engaging characters, but it also has a wonderful description of initial stages of the silk making process, even though the book describes itself as, “A novel of an ancient China that never was.” The descriptions of Chinese traditions are accurate and detailed enough that you learn a lot about the country. Pulling apart what is historically accurate and what is fiction makes and interesting challenge but is not too difficult.


Spider silk from Madagascar.

Critical analysis of the Phantom Menace

When thinking about literature and stories, the Heroic Journey is often a useful lens for observation. The unassuming hero receives “the call”, gains allies, meets challenges and wins in the end (although the cost may be high). This basic template is strewn throughout literature; my personal, favorite is Bilbo Baggins’ journey in Tolkien’s “The Hobbit”.

Another great example of the Heroic Journey is Luke Skywalker’s in the first movie of the original Star Wars trilogy. And it is the deviation from the template that makes the Star Wars prequels, starting with The Phantom Menace, so hard to watch. At least, that is what one critic, who produced a brilliant, 70 minute video critically comparing the two movies, believes. He elegantly makes his arguments using video clips from the two movies.

WARNING: THERE IS SOME OBSCENE LANGUAGE AND INAPPROPRIATE REFERENCES, enough so that, as it is, this video is probably most likely inappropriate to show to students. With that in mind, the link is here. An edited version would be ideal. Without the obscenity, the arguments in the video are a useful discussion of the movies, of story arcs, and of deconstructing art. It is quite entertaining too.

For those leery of the language, the author points out:

  • There is no heroic journey for any character who we can identify with. In science fiction in particular, there needs to be one “normal” character that guides us through this new universe. Even Anakin, who starts off as a slave and in the end destroys the enemy ship is just a passive observer. Because he does not understand what is going on and just goes with the flow he is unaware if the danger so we don’t feel the tension either. According to the author, “In this opening segment I discuss the major flaw of The Phantom Menace which is the characters and the lack of connection with the audience.”
  • The entire movie is driven by the plot devices that move the characters from one scene to another. The characters are either passive or have to make some illogical decisions to follow the storyline. The characters, and their personalities do not drive the movie. “Part two now focuses on the second biggest problem with the Phantom Menace, the story. The mystery plot lacking direction and emotional involvement was really the other big problem. No tension, no drama, no stakes. Characters aimlessly follow along the events.”
  • The problem with the special effects was that they did not primarily serve the story. According to George Lucas in the 70’s, “A special effect without a story is a pretty boring thing.” The light saber duels were the best examples. In the Phantom Menace they were carefully choreographed works of art. Pretty to look at, but with no deeper meaning and very little emotion. Compare that to Luke’s anger and his realization that he is turning into his father at the end of Return of the Jedi. “… light saber duels have less to do with the fight itself but moreso with the internalization of the characters.”
  • Did George Lucas have too much control over the movie? In the original movies he had to deal with independent actors and a lot of technical challenges. In this movie, were the others too intimidated to challenge questionable ideas, so that Lucas had everything his way? Is adversity necessary for art?

Poetry in the morning

Poetry 180

Instead of listening to music in the morning, instead of reading about the composer and the piece, maybe, we could read poetry instead.

The Library of Congress has a nice website with 180 poems for American High Schools, as well as instructions by Billy Collins on how to read a poem out loud.

Self-portrait in poetry

Rilke

I recently discovered Ranier Maria Rilke’s “Self-Portrait 1906” in Edward Hirsch’s collection Poet’s Choice (which I picked up on sale at Barnes and Noble last week). The author’s integrity in this poem is quite striking. Hirsch has a very loose translation (from the German) by Robert Lowell that is very different from the more literal translation here, but both versions capture the essential meaning and honesty of the poem.

Certainly there, in the eyelids’ shape,
Of some ancient, long-ennobled race.
Childhood’s anxious blue still in the eyes,
And here and there, humility, not a fool’s
Yet a servant’s though, and feminine.
The mouth’s, a mouth, large and exact,
Unconvinced, but speaking out for
Justice. The brow’s without guile,
Gladly gazing down to quiet shadows.

This, its context’s barely suspected:
Neither in adversity nor success
To gather to precise penetration:
Yet serious reality’s being planned,
As if with scattered Things, from afar.

This version of the poem is from A.S. Kline’s “Ranier Maria Rilke: Twenty More Poems” which is free for non-commercial reproduction.

I also like this poem for middle school because serves both the Language and the Personal World curriculum. Personal World is designed to give students the time to examine themselves and their place in the society, the world and even the cosmos, and honest self assessment is always something worth working on.