A Mercy by Toni Morrison

Black Zodiac by Charles Wright

Blizzard of One by Mark Strand

The Doors of Perception by Aldous Huxley

Everyman by Philip Roth

Failure by Philip Schultz

Good News by Edward Abbey

The Heart of a Conflict Chechnya by Andrew Meir

If On A Winter’s Night a Traveler by Italo Calvino

The Last Summer of Reason by Tahar Djaout

Native Guard by Natasha Trethewey

Ulysses by James Joyce

Walking to Martha’s Vineyard by Franz Wright

Without by Donald Hall

The Years by Virginia Woolf

Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, 2008

For those who would ask “does poetry still matter? I have but one answer, Failure by Philip Schultz.

The announcement of this year’s Pulitzer Prize shocked many in the poetry world. First, it was announced that not one but two poets would be awarded the prize (Schultz and Robert Hass)—a first in the Prize’s long history. Second, Failure is only Schultz’s third book of poems and his career has been a rather obscure one.

Failure is a profoundly human book. Graceful, delicate, angry, and beautiful, it is the type of read that we do not encounter often enough.

The poems in this book are divided into two sections, the first 50 pages consist of roughly single-page poems that chronicle the idea of failure. Schultz starts with his own life, the failures of his eagerly entrepreneurial father, Schultz’s own years of mental illness and drift, and even the failings of the larger culture (though always fed through the personal lens).

The next fifty pages consist of one long poem called The Wondering Wingless, an opus to dogs. Many of those who are critical of this book site the indulgence of this poem. This is a worthy criticism, but The Wondering Wingless points to a connection that levies the first 50 pages of the book, a connection that transcends failure and excuses the indulgence of the work. If the human condition is tempered by disappointment and failure, then dogs are the antithesis of the human condition. As Schultz says “The thing about dogs/ is the don’t believe/ they’re geniuses (especially / the ones who are). They/ don’t withhold judgment,/ cultivate opinions,/ mobilize their defects,/ become paralyzed/ with nostalgia/ or disappear/ inside their delirium.”

My own conflict with writing about this book is that it is not a book I wish to review. The weight of reading this volume has hit me rather personally, and so I wish to keep much of that experience to myself. I will say, in leu of a more insightful analysis of this book’s merits, that it is rare for me to have such a response to a book of poems. In truth, it has only happened a few times in my life. This is how I know that Schultz, though he may write lovingly about failure, is certainly not one.

* * *

Husband
by Philip Schultz
from Failure

What could be more picturesque
than us eating lobster on the water,
the sun vanishing over the horizon,
willing, once again, to allow us almost
any satisfaction. William James said
marriage was overlooking, overlooking,
yes, but also overlapping: opinions,
histories, the truth of someone not you
sitting across the table seeing the you
you can’t bear to, the face behind
the long fable in the mirror. Freud said
we’re cured when we see ourselves
the way a stranger does in moments.
Am I the I she tried to save, still lopsided
with trying to be a little less or more,
escaping who I was a moment ago?
Here, now, us, sipping wine in this
candlelit pause, in the charm of the ever
casting sky, every gesture familiar,
painfully endearing, the I of me, the she
of her, the us we only know, alone together
all these years. Call it what you like,
happiness or failure, the discreet curl
of her bottom lip, the hesitant green
of her eyes, still lovely with surprise.

Comment?

by Philip Schultz
from Failure

What could be more picturesque
than us eating lobster on the water,
the sun vanishing over the horizon,
willing, once again, to allow us almost
any satisfaction. William James said
marriage was overlooking, overlooking,
yes, but also overlapping: opinions,
histories, the truth of someone not you
sitting across the table seeing the you
you can’t bear to, the face behind
the long fable in the mirror. Freud said
we’re cured when we see ourselves
the way a stranger does in moments.
Am I the I she tried to save, still lopsided
with trying to be a little less or more,
escaping who I was a moment ago?
Here, now, us, sipping wine in this
candlelit pause, in the charm of the ever
casting sky, every gesture familiar,
painfully endearing, the I of me, the she
of her, the us we only know, alone together
all these years. Call it what you like,
happiness or failure, the discreet curl
of her bottom lip, the hesitant green
of her eyes, still lovely with surprise.

Comment?

Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, 1998

Charles Wright has the uncanny ability among poets to construct poems that both contain the world and recreate the world in the confines of the poem. Each of his pieces are a mixture of personal narrative, literary and art theory, philosophical ruminations, and mythology. In his books, the narrative gains complexity like a snowball rolling down a hill, and over the course of his book “Black Zodiac” this world becomes more intricate and confounding.

Wright is an example of how a poet can be learned without condescending, how a poet can be cerebral without dividing himself from the world.

Wright’s ability to circumscribe a world within a single poem also works against this volume. By the end of the collection, the reader knows that there is a mythology which holds the book together (signaled by repeating metaphors and memes) but the density of the text renders that bonding mythology elusive. This is not a book whose meaning is revealed on a first or second read, and while that isn’t necessarily a bad thing it is an immediate difficulty with the book.

Black Zodiac is an interesting and captivating read, but most of its meaning is still hidden to me. So, I will say that I enjoyed it even if I don’t yet fully understand what it all means.

Comment?

Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, 2007

Natasha Trethewey’s Native Guard is a profound book of poems. In under 50 pages Trethewey develops a complex narrative world whose connecting core is the South.

The book is divided into three “parts”—a device in poetry manuscripts that I find tedious because there’s often no way to discern between the parts. In Trethewey’s work, though, each part presents a significant narrative break and it is only in holding the three parts together that the heft of the work begins to form.

The first part of the book tells us part of the story of Trethewey’s childhood—a young mother and father separating, the mother’s untimely death, the daughter’s subsequent exile from her home and from the south. Trethewey captures, in her rich, direct verse, a longing many of us once-southerner’s feel—a profound disconnection from the place we are most intimately drawn to.

The second part of the books is a tonal and thematic shift, focusing this time on the Native Guard —an all black sector of the Louisiana Militia who fought for the confederacy during the Civil War. Threthewey treats these characters—who until now have been mere footnotes in history—with understated respect. This portion of the book is as riveting as it is perplexing.

It’s in the third part of the book that Tretheway brings the whole narrative together. She achieved a narrative “twist” seldom encountered in books of poems.

The end result is a stunning collection of finely crafted poems and a story that will linger long after the book is closed. This collection establishes Tretheway as a young star of American letters and I greatly anticipate her future works.

* * *

Theories of Time and Space
by Natasha Trethewey
from Native Guard

You can get there from here, though
there’s no going home.

Everywhere you go will be somewhere
you’ve never been. Try this:

head south on Mississippi 49, one—
by-one mile markers ticking off

another minute of your life. Follow this
to its natural conclusion — dead end

at the coast, the pier at Gulfport where
rigging of shrimp boats are loose stitches

in a sky threatening rain. Cross over
the man-made beach, 26 miles of sand

dumped on the mangrove swamp — buried
terrain of the past. Bring only

what you must carry — tome of memory,
its random blank pages. On the dock

where you board the boat for Ship Island,
someone will take your picture:

the photograph — who you were —
will be waiting when you return.

Comment?

Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, 1999

A wise teacher once said “if a poem doesn’t work sometimes it’s just not meant for you. That doesn’t mean it isn’t a good poem.”

This advice keeps coming back to me as I read the work of Mark Strand. The highest honors available to a poet have been bestowed upon Strand: he has won a MacArthur Fellowship, held tenured positions at Columbia and the University of Chicago, and his 1999 book Blizzard of One won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry.

Still, reading Strand is like hearing a joke without a punch line. The language is regal, the imagery sometimes captivating, but the universality of the poem—the ability of the poet to reflect upon the outer world by traveling inward—never quite connects with me.

Blizzard of One is the third Strand book that I’ve read and I did enjoy it more than the previous two. Still, I found myself too often reaching the end of a gorgeous poem only to realize that I had immediately forgotten it. I retained little from this collection, save for a few gems that stand out from the rest. Whether this is due to focus on an inner world that I, as a reader, just can’t relate to or if it’s just an omission by the poet I am not sure.

At it’s best Blizzard of One has moments of distilled beauty. Many of the poems reflect on life and aging, always with an emphasis on the present moment. These are poems of a man in his graying years, contemplating life and the eternal while reflecting backwards on fragments of the life he has lived.

More often than not, though, I never fully enter these poems. Though I can respect their eloquence and formal beauty (there are many formal poems in this collection, including a sestina and a villanelle), the reason most of the poems were written is never clear to me. Perhaps there are better criteria for judging poems, but if I cannot surmise the why behind a poem’s existence then I can’t seem to care much about it. And in the end, that is how Blizzard of One leaves me—feeling eh.

* * *
Old Man Leaves Party
by Mark Strand
from A Blizzard of One

It was clear when I left the party
That though I was over eighty I still had
A beautiful body. The moon shone down as it will
On moments of deep introspection. The wind held its breath.
And look, somebody left a mirror leaning against a tree.
Making sure that I was alone, I took off my shirt.
The flowers of bear grass nodded their moonwashed heads.
I took off my pants and the magpies circled the redwoods.
Down in the valley the creaking river was flowing once more.
How strange that I should stand in the wilds alone with my body.
I know what you are thinking. I was like you once. But now
With so much before me, so many emerald trees, and
Weed-whitened fields, mountains and lakes, how could I not
Be only myself, this dream of flesh, from moment to moment?

Comment?

1. DEAR SCIENCE by TV on the Radio

2. IN THE FUTURE by Black Mountain

3. NEW AMERYKAH: PART ONE (4TH WORLD WAR) by Erykah Badu



4. THIRD by Portishead



5. HEY MA by James



6. NARROW STAIRS by Death Cab for Cutie



7. NEW YORK CITY by Brazilian Girls



8. THE ODD COUPLE by Gnarls Barkley



9. ROBYN by Robyn



10. SEVENTH TREE by Goldfrapp



HONORABLE MENTION

The Slip/Ghosts I-IV by Nine Inch Nails






Intimacy by Bloc Party




Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust by Sigur Ros

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How do artist present sincerity without sentimentality? How do they write music which is celebratory, down-trodden, or emotive while avoiding easy cliches?

My personal favorite of the three best of mixes I have posted here this year, “Best of 2008: The Melodies” is certainly a mix for headphone weather. I recommend this music for grey mornings, overcast drives through the country side, or quiet weekend work days when the sun is coming through your window just right.

Take a listen and let me know what you think. So long 2008, you have served us well.

Tracklist:

1. Bixby Cannon Bridge—Death Cab for Cutie
2. Biko—Bloc Party
3. The Rip—Portishead
4. A&E—Goldfrapp
5. Clouds—Unkle featuring Black Mountain
6. Family Tree—TV on the Radio
7. My People—Erykah Badu
8. 13 Ghosts II—Nine Inch Nails
9. Ara Batar—Sigur Ros
10. I Want to Go Home—James

Download or listen by clicking here
Runtime: 46:13

Comment?

And now, part II of my annual “Best of” Playlists.

This mix is the hardest to classify of the three. Some might call it “pop,” but since most of the songs on this mix never really made it into the mainstream I am reluctant to call it that.

Instead, I’m calling this mix “The Movers.” All of these songs are up-tempo and play with pop conventions, even if they don’t fit that definition.

I did not allow myself to include remixes in this set since I reserve those for my DJ sets.

So, take a listen. I don’t think you’ll like everything but I“m sure you’ll find something you enjoy on this mix. As always, I would love to hear from you in the comment section. Peace!

Tracklist:

1. Inní mér syngur vitleysingur—Sigur Ros
2. Caravan Girl—Goldfrapp
3. Run (I’m A Natural Disaster)—Gnarles Barkley
4. I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You—The Black Kids
5. Cobrastyle—Robyn
6. Royal Family—Free Blood
7. Be Mine—Robyn
8. Golden Age—TV on the Radio
9. Noveau Americain—Brazilian Girls
10. Mercury—Bloc Party
11. The Cell—Erykah Badu

Download or listen by clicking here
Runtime: 40:43

Comment? [2]

It’s that time of the year again! Each December I take a few weeks to look back at the music that’s been buzzing in my ear for the past year.

This first mixtape includes the best “Rockers” from this year. The mix is guitar heavy and mostly up-tempo. Other varieties will follow in the coming weeks.

So, download it, listen to it, argue with it, let me know what sucks, and what is now so essential that you’ll die without listening to it. I love hearing your feedback.

Tracklist:

1. Halfway Home—TV on the Radio
2. Long Division—Death Cab for Cutie
3. One Month Off—Bloc Party
4. 23 Ghosts III—Nine Inch Nails
5. The Sun Smells too Loud—Mogwai
6. Fix the Gash in Your Head—A Place to Bury Strangers
7. Tyrants—Black Mountain
8. Hey Ma—James
9. Discipline—Nine Inch Nails
10. Ulysses—Franz Ferdinand
11. Aly, Walk With Me—Raveonettes

Download or listen by clicking here
Runtime: 49:41

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