Fragile bridges
AmericançèRomanian
poetic transactions
by Paul Doru Mugur
Harold Bloom`s
anxiety of influence theory invites us to read the history of poetry
as a sort of stylistic chain reaction where each poet carries on a
hidden dialogue with his or her peers and predecessors. On one side,
this theory explains the non-linear sequence of generations and
schools of poets within a certain culture, whereas on the other it
accounts for the occurrence of similar stylistic patterns in
temporally or spatially remote cultures.
In the American
poetry of the twentieth century one of the most important stylistic
shifts was, arguably, the publication of Donald Allen's anthology of
“New American Poetry” in 1960. Culturally
and geographically, the New Poets in the anthology that
comprises the period between 1945-1960
belong to schools and places as different or remote from each other
as the NY School or the San Francisco Renaissance;
however, these poets bridged the
continental gap by reaching similar poetic formulae, very different
from what the “formalist” poetic canon used to prescribe at the
time. The long winter of the World War II was over and a new
poetry was ready to blossom, right on the beat, in tune with the new
times. The air time belonged now to the beat generation.
Separated
from the American momentum by more
than three decades, a similar literary orientation had its debut in
Romania in the early 80’s.
“Aer cu diamante”, an anthology including
texts of four young poets, appeared in 1982; its fresh wind ruffled
the Romanian “esthetics of poetry”.
In opposition with the carefully constructed, high-brow
linguistic towers erected by their predecessors that regarded
themselves as some kind of priests
serving the mass on the altars of Saint
Poetry, the eighties generation poets wrote playful,
colloquial, almost narrative texts. They cured the
mysticosophical revelation syndrome of the modernists with a
plain, solid postmodernist laughter.
Obviously, the
anxiety of influence syntagm was not
only coined to define some kind of antagonism but also to explain
the so-called imitation of the predecessors. Thus, it
appears that the 60`s American and the 80`s Romanian stylistic
revolutions may be linked in more than one way. The Romanian poets
of the eighties generation owe a great deal to the beatnik
poetry, from Ginsberg’s Howl and Kaddish, to the
poetic accomplishments of Corso, Ferlinghetti or Snyder; this has
been formally acknowledged by Mircea Cărtărescu, himself one of the
most gifted contemporary Romanian contemporary Romanian writers and
a member of the eighties generation. In Romanian
Postmodernism, a critical monograph dedicated to this movement,
he states that some of his colleagues, including himself, borrowed
aspects of “literary techniques” from the beatniks: „the „pouring”,
never ending, almost epical aspect of the poems, the agglutination
and distortion of reality, etc.” „But,” he notes immediately
after, ”the anti-capitalistic and, sometimes too simplistic populist
ideology of the beatniks was
strange to the Romanian 80`s poets”.
The choice of the Romanian poets to focus
on the hedonistic aspects of art is very different from the
beatniks` politically engaged performances. The Romanian
postmodernist poetry lacks in any form of
assumed political engagement.
In fact, it can be
argued that the postmodernism made in Romania under the
gloomiest
years of Ceausescu`s dictatorship was not so much a type of
late imported exotic western friandise
as it was a form of spiritual
resistance, a declaration of inner freedom against an oppressive
regime. It might have been a form of escapism, too;
if so, it was a healthy form of
escape, a natural immune reaction against an alienating reality. It
seems to me that in Romania, the beatnik style was grafted on an
autochthonous sensitivity shift that was not fed by any kind of
foreign literary influences; more likely,
this was the outcome of the struggle carried on by a number of poets
who kept the fire of their imagination burning, despite the
communist censorship.
Another example of
a cross-cultural exchange is the similarity between the L=a=n=g=u=a=g=e
American writers` insistance of engaging the reader to participate
in the creation of the meaning of a poem and the program of the
Dadaist movement. In the 1918 Dadaist Manifesto, Tristan
Tzara, a Romanian born writer, states plainly that “words have
different meanings for each individual’ and that “words have
a weight of their own and lend themselves to abstract constructions
”. Written with more than half a century in advance, his poems are
very close stylistically to the non-sequitur lines cultivated by the
L=a=n=g=u=a=g=e school poets.
A
unique representantive of this Romanian
çèAmerican
stylistic cross-pollination is Andrei Codrescu, author of poetry
books written in both Romanian and English, editor of the
feisty literary magazine Exquisite Corpse, a "journal of books and
ideas" that published many Romanian poets in translation and whose
paper issues format was inspired by the Lilliputian layout of
“Bilete de papagal” a weekly satirical and literary magazine issued
in Bucharest in the 30`s. For Andrei Codrescu the overlap of
multiple influences from several cultures is not a fashion but an
act of faith. In a 2001 interview with Lidia Vianu he acknowledged
that his religion is “Creolisation, Hybridization, Miscegenation,
Immigration, Genre-Busting, Trespassing, Border-Crossing,
Identity-Shifting, Mask-Making, and Syncretism.” In the fascinating
case of Andrei Codrescu the network of influences is embodied in the
very substance of his literary work which mimics closely the
multi-cultural identity of this author.
The chain reaction
of stylistic influences seems endless. New social and technological
realities call for a new poetry. Then, how does poetic style change
in the digital age? We live a time when
poems are composed by artificial intelligence agents; we live in the
era of Flarf poems, in the age of texts generated with the help of
Google or other search engines. In
the United States, the
Flarf e-mail based collaborative enterprise has been described as
the first recognizable poetic movement of the 21st century and a
Flarf anthology of poetry is currently on its way.
In September 1998,
two Romanian poets wrote The Fracturist Manifesto declaring
that “fracturism is the first model of a radical break
from postmodernism” and that “fracturism
is a movement developed by writers who live as they write, excluding
social lies from their poetry; the writers who adhere to this
movement have no career expectations and ambitions, they do not
perceive art as a form of business from which one can draw any
profit.”
The logic of the
Fracturist Manifesto is simple and dichotomist. Either/or. What
they do is bad, what we do is good. If you want to be cool, read our
stuff and trash theirs. In fact, the
“fracturists” are simply exorcising their anxiety of
influence. Ironically, in Romania, the beatniks influenced both
the eighties generation
and the fracturist poets that rebelled against the postmodernist
frivolity and lack of social commitment. Marius Ianuş, co-founder of
the Fracturist Movement wrote an in-famous poem that can be read
almost as a karaoke hiphop version of Ginsberg`s „Howl”, that he had
translated into Romanian.
Now, almost a
decade after “fracturism” brought forward its preoccupation with the
authenticity and the real, after using (and abusing!) shock and
pleasure as fundamental esthetic principles, the tone of the
Romanian poetry has changed again. Young poets post their texts on
various on-line blogs and build internet communities similar to the
Flarf. The discussion on poetry can no
longer be carried on in terms of generation or style. In the
digital age, the anxiety of influence has the speed of one’s modem
connection and the intensity of the number of links found by your
search engine. But even at this fast forward pace of our cultures
made of bits & bytes, reading a poem remains one of the most
intimate acts. In the end, what remains beyond anxieties, influences
and manifestos is the pure joy of reading a poem, passing again and
again over this fragile bridge of words where our souls meet in
silent communion.
References:
http://corpse.org
http://jacketmagazine.com/30/fl-intro.html
http://flarffestival.blogspot.com/
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