Appreciate you, Maya! You know, I thought of that “girlie diarist” comment when I came across William Logan’s “drama queen” quip about Tess Gallagher. An embarrassment and a shame to resort to such shallow commentary. You and Gallagher and so many else are among the best.
Sad that some critics, in their self-absorption, miss the simple complexity of a life lived. Thanks for the lovely passages and thoughtful reflection. I’m off to read more Oliver, Padget, and live this day. I might even write about birds or the green tree frogs clinging to the glass panes of the back door.
Good essay! Like the unnamed critic you dress down, I prefer poems with less “bare” emotion and more thinking about one’s emotions. I like complexity. But I reacted much the same way to that review. The critic was mean and ungenerous, and there was no call for that, especially since he wasn’t restricting himself to a single poem or book but making wholesale judgments of the poet’s method, oeuvre, and future legacy. It looked like grave-digging, not criticism.
Now, I think it was calculated to make a stir, but I’m chuckling at the unintended consequences. I’ve stopped taking that critic seriously, and I’m reconsidering the poet’s work, since I found more than he did in the single poem he analyzed in full and it made me wonder whether I had reached a hasty conclusion in a like manner. At least with me, the critic shot himself in the foot. And now here I am, finding a new critic with a more level head.
Thanks, Joshua. Appreciate you reading. Yeah, "wholesale judgments" is a good way to phrase it. I think if, as a critic, you are making those judgments of a poet's entire work, and if those judgments repeat some of the same tired, often repressive tropes that have been made of that poet's work (and other women's work) throughout their career (whether you are aware of it or not...though, as a critic, you should be aware of it), then I'm unsure what fresh insight you are adding to the world of reading. It seems more like you are furthering your own grudge.
Frankly, I didn’t find the review itself misogynistic, and I’m still not sold that it is. (The critic’s behavior to a naysayer may be another matter.) I don’t believe it should be beyond the pale to say you find a woman’s poetry “sentimental” or “simple” if it’s what you actually think of the poetry, not of women. I think it’s ridiculous that in the next breath, to duck accusations of misogyny, a critic should have to say, “But I don’t mean all women poets, just these two! I dig Louise Glück, Mary Ruefle, etc.” I grasp there’s a history of unfair criticism of women on this point. Maybe I’m naive of the politics of that. But I don’t want a criticism that walks on eggshells around it, afraid to make legitimate comment.
But here’s the thing: whatever the criticisms you’re lodging, prove your case! And the more wide-ranging your thesis, the more burden of proof there is. This critic bit off more than he could chew, and he didn’t put in the work to read the poetry on its own terms and prove his critical argument about it. He may have misogynistic motive for that, I don’t know. I’d like to give him a benefit of the doubt about motive. But if he won’t bother himself to make a more compelling case than a path of breadcrumbs on “automatism” because he finds some poems too cloying for his taste, and if he wants to make judgments about literary longevity on this basis, then fuck him. Neruda’s Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada is rather cloying; folks are still reading it and loving it a century later. I think the real problem here is a lack of humility and restraint.
When I read the review and commented on it, I didn't read it through the lens you are reading it through. I can now understand why so many were so upset about the bias that seems to be clear to many. I enjoy Maya Popa's work as I do Mary Oliver's work. I don't see their work as inferior at all. They are both extremely talented poets. But I recognize that people aren't always going to like certain poems or poets, regardless of talent.
What I'm worried about is that criticism is no longer allowed to be critical. That we must always flatter the subject when offering criticism lest we be accused of punching down. This is a real fear now that prevents much good and needed criticism from being published or put out into the world.
Appreciate you reading, Autumn! A worthwhile worry, too. I think that's part of what I mean by a sense of generosity on the part of the critic. In the end, criticism is a generous act, whether your criticism winds up being positive or negative or somewhere in between.
I'd argue that the best "negative" reviews are actually simultaneously the most generous -- they perhaps seek to understand their subject more deeply than a review of mere shallow praise. If I were on the receiving end of one of those, after the initial (and understandable) sense of shock or surprise, I would hopefully wind up feeling grateful that someone had taken the time to know my work so well that they could point out what did not work within it.
Perhaps that sounds a bit lofty on my part, but, well, I'm a high school teacher. Every day I am reminded, quite vocally and quite constantly, about all the ways I could be better. It's a humbling job, but very fun. I think the same about putting language out into the world.
Thank you Devin for introducing me to the poetry of Padget. I do "like" Mary Oliver, I always have. I am troubled by the negative responses spewed by some of critics who appear to enjoy immersing themselves in negativity. Oliver can bring a moment of bliss and she can bring a moment of deep sadness. She reads the world .
Every Sunday I await your e mail knowing that the poem you introduce will stay with me and open another way of considering the life around me.
Fantastic piece, Devin! Enlargening and enlivening and important. Here are two of many thoughts. There’s a new documentary film about Mary Oliver called Saved by the Beauty of the World. I thought it was outstanding. Whether you’re a fan or a skeptic, it’s worth a good look. Also, I was reminded of something my favorite Shakespeare critic, Harold Goddard, practiced deeply and sometimes said explicitly, quoting William Blake: “enthusiastic admiration is the first principle of knowledge, and the last.” It takes real skill to explain why you love and admire a work of art. We would do well to remember that—and to ask our students to practice it.
Thought-provoking essay. I'd forgotten about Padgett and now am inspired to read more. I appreciate the lens in which you approached this essay. Mary Oliver's poetry has never resonated with me. The side by side with Padgett's work, for me as a reader, feels so different. And I cannot explain it - in my mind, reading Padgett's poetry forms sharp edges while Oliver's is all languid circles. I want to climb into Padgett's poems. However, like Ranganathan said, for every book its reader, so we keep them all because there is room for every writer & reader.
Thanks for reading! And you’re right—they’re quite different. “Sharp edges” is one great way to describe Padgett’s work. I think his poems also resist epiphanies while Oliver’s sometimes work towards them, trying to insist on them. Someone like James Wright, maybe, sits in between the two of them. But yes—as you say, a book for every reader. There are days I long for epiphany and days I want nothing resembling meaning. I keep them both on my shelves.
Wonderful essay! I just saw the Mary Oliver documentary and it is so good. I learned so much about her that I didn’t know. I already loved her poetry but now I love it more.
I am neither a poet nor a critic, just a human being on the journey of life. I believe life is a non-dual undertaking — that thoughtful human beings are open to both the spiritual and the material, but realize these realms are really one, not either or, and I believe that humans must embrace the uncertainty that pervades our brief existence.
I appreciate this essay and its positive tone. And I recall that Ron Padgett wrote the poems that appeared in the movie Paterson, which the main character was composing in his journal on his lunch break and after work. I confess I wasn't familiar with him at all before that movie but I felt that he really knew the character whose poems he was creating -- a man who was never shallowly attentive! Thank you; I really enjoyed this.
Very much enjoyed this read, thank you. Also, for introducing me to the phrase “remember- I am laudatory”. Me too!!! A much better description than, “I am annoyingly enthusiastic about XYZ” which is what I often fall towards 😂
Very grateful for your support here AND for the lovely reading of Padgett. Thank you so much.
— A “girlie diarist” poet
Appreciate you, Maya! You know, I thought of that “girlie diarist” comment when I came across William Logan’s “drama queen” quip about Tess Gallagher. An embarrassment and a shame to resort to such shallow commentary. You and Gallagher and so many else are among the best.
I’ve been making a list of these types of remarks for when I gather my thoughts constructively about all this and had missed this one! 😂😂😂
Sad that some critics, in their self-absorption, miss the simple complexity of a life lived. Thanks for the lovely passages and thoughtful reflection. I’m off to read more Oliver, Padget, and live this day. I might even write about birds or the green tree frogs clinging to the glass panes of the back door.
What a plan for the day! Thank you for reading.
“remember—I am laudatory” belongs on a t-shirt, or the cover of your eventual anthology of newsletter essays.
one can dream! Thank you, John
Good essay! Like the unnamed critic you dress down, I prefer poems with less “bare” emotion and more thinking about one’s emotions. I like complexity. But I reacted much the same way to that review. The critic was mean and ungenerous, and there was no call for that, especially since he wasn’t restricting himself to a single poem or book but making wholesale judgments of the poet’s method, oeuvre, and future legacy. It looked like grave-digging, not criticism.
Now, I think it was calculated to make a stir, but I’m chuckling at the unintended consequences. I’ve stopped taking that critic seriously, and I’m reconsidering the poet’s work, since I found more than he did in the single poem he analyzed in full and it made me wonder whether I had reached a hasty conclusion in a like manner. At least with me, the critic shot himself in the foot. And now here I am, finding a new critic with a more level head.
Thanks, Joshua. Appreciate you reading. Yeah, "wholesale judgments" is a good way to phrase it. I think if, as a critic, you are making those judgments of a poet's entire work, and if those judgments repeat some of the same tired, often repressive tropes that have been made of that poet's work (and other women's work) throughout their career (whether you are aware of it or not...though, as a critic, you should be aware of it), then I'm unsure what fresh insight you are adding to the world of reading. It seems more like you are furthering your own grudge.
Frankly, I didn’t find the review itself misogynistic, and I’m still not sold that it is. (The critic’s behavior to a naysayer may be another matter.) I don’t believe it should be beyond the pale to say you find a woman’s poetry “sentimental” or “simple” if it’s what you actually think of the poetry, not of women. I think it’s ridiculous that in the next breath, to duck accusations of misogyny, a critic should have to say, “But I don’t mean all women poets, just these two! I dig Louise Glück, Mary Ruefle, etc.” I grasp there’s a history of unfair criticism of women on this point. Maybe I’m naive of the politics of that. But I don’t want a criticism that walks on eggshells around it, afraid to make legitimate comment.
But here’s the thing: whatever the criticisms you’re lodging, prove your case! And the more wide-ranging your thesis, the more burden of proof there is. This critic bit off more than he could chew, and he didn’t put in the work to read the poetry on its own terms and prove his critical argument about it. He may have misogynistic motive for that, I don’t know. I’d like to give him a benefit of the doubt about motive. But if he won’t bother himself to make a more compelling case than a path of breadcrumbs on “automatism” because he finds some poems too cloying for his taste, and if he wants to make judgments about literary longevity on this basis, then fuck him. Neruda’s Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada is rather cloying; folks are still reading it and loving it a century later. I think the real problem here is a lack of humility and restraint.
This is very close to what I have taken away with the whole situation. Well put.
When I read the review and commented on it, I didn't read it through the lens you are reading it through. I can now understand why so many were so upset about the bias that seems to be clear to many. I enjoy Maya Popa's work as I do Mary Oliver's work. I don't see their work as inferior at all. They are both extremely talented poets. But I recognize that people aren't always going to like certain poems or poets, regardless of talent.
What I'm worried about is that criticism is no longer allowed to be critical. That we must always flatter the subject when offering criticism lest we be accused of punching down. This is a real fear now that prevents much good and needed criticism from being published or put out into the world.
Appreciate you reading, Autumn! A worthwhile worry, too. I think that's part of what I mean by a sense of generosity on the part of the critic. In the end, criticism is a generous act, whether your criticism winds up being positive or negative or somewhere in between.
I'd argue that the best "negative" reviews are actually simultaneously the most generous -- they perhaps seek to understand their subject more deeply than a review of mere shallow praise. If I were on the receiving end of one of those, after the initial (and understandable) sense of shock or surprise, I would hopefully wind up feeling grateful that someone had taken the time to know my work so well that they could point out what did not work within it.
Perhaps that sounds a bit lofty on my part, but, well, I'm a high school teacher. Every day I am reminded, quite vocally and quite constantly, about all the ways I could be better. It's a humbling job, but very fun. I think the same about putting language out into the world.
Thank you Devin for introducing me to the poetry of Padget. I do "like" Mary Oliver, I always have. I am troubled by the negative responses spewed by some of critics who appear to enjoy immersing themselves in negativity. Oliver can bring a moment of bliss and she can bring a moment of deep sadness. She reads the world .
Every Sunday I await your e mail knowing that the poem you introduce will stay with me and open another way of considering the life around me.
thanks so much, Jane! Appreciate you reading.
Fantastic piece, Devin! Enlargening and enlivening and important. Here are two of many thoughts. There’s a new documentary film about Mary Oliver called Saved by the Beauty of the World. I thought it was outstanding. Whether you’re a fan or a skeptic, it’s worth a good look. Also, I was reminded of something my favorite Shakespeare critic, Harold Goddard, practiced deeply and sometimes said explicitly, quoting William Blake: “enthusiastic admiration is the first principle of knowledge, and the last.” It takes real skill to explain why you love and admire a work of art. We would do well to remember that—and to ask our students to practice it.
Thanks, Jeff! I'm excited for the documentary, and I absolutely love that Goddard quote! Hadn't heard it before...thank you for it.
Thank you. Just...thank you.
Thank you for this, Devin.
Thanks always, Kathy
Thought-provoking essay. I'd forgotten about Padgett and now am inspired to read more. I appreciate the lens in which you approached this essay. Mary Oliver's poetry has never resonated with me. The side by side with Padgett's work, for me as a reader, feels so different. And I cannot explain it - in my mind, reading Padgett's poetry forms sharp edges while Oliver's is all languid circles. I want to climb into Padgett's poems. However, like Ranganathan said, for every book its reader, so we keep them all because there is room for every writer & reader.
Thanks for reading! And you’re right—they’re quite different. “Sharp edges” is one great way to describe Padgett’s work. I think his poems also resist epiphanies while Oliver’s sometimes work towards them, trying to insist on them. Someone like James Wright, maybe, sits in between the two of them. But yes—as you say, a book for every reader. There are days I long for epiphany and days I want nothing resembling meaning. I keep them both on my shelves.
Wonderful essay! I just saw the Mary Oliver documentary and it is so good. I learned so much about her that I didn’t know. I already loved her poetry but now I love it more.
Thank you for assembling such a range of reviews about such a range of writers and synthesizing so well the subtext.
WOW! Thought provoking article and poignant (and this from a woman). Sharp and clear observations and I thank you.
I am neither a poet nor a critic, just a human being on the journey of life. I believe life is a non-dual undertaking — that thoughtful human beings are open to both the spiritual and the material, but realize these realms are really one, not either or, and I believe that humans must embrace the uncertainty that pervades our brief existence.
I appreciate this essay and its positive tone. And I recall that Ron Padgett wrote the poems that appeared in the movie Paterson, which the main character was composing in his journal on his lunch break and after work. I confess I wasn't familiar with him at all before that movie but I felt that he really knew the character whose poems he was creating -- a man who was never shallowly attentive! Thank you; I really enjoyed this.
He did write those! I should rewatch that one. Thanks for reading.
Very much enjoyed this read, thank you. Also, for introducing me to the phrase “remember- I am laudatory”. Me too!!! A much better description than, “I am annoyingly enthusiastic about XYZ” which is what I often fall towards 😂
Hah, thank you! Appreciate you reading.