The Art Of series is a new series of brief books by contemporary writers on important craft issues. Each book investigates an element of the craft of fiction, creative nonfiction, or poetry by discussing works by authors past and present. The books in the Art Of series are not strictly manuals, but serve readers and writers by illuminating aspects of the craft of writing that people think they already know but don't really know.
Donald Revell argues passionately for the transformation that imaginative experience elicits through poetry. "The art of poetry is not about the acquisition of wiles or the deployment of strategies," Revell writes. "Beginning in the senses, imagination senses farther, senses more." Using examples from his own poetry and translations and from Blake and Thoreau to Ronald Johnson and John Ashbery, Revell's The Art of Attention: A Poet's Eye takes the writer beyond the workshop and into the world of vision.
Revell has won numerous honors and awards for his work, beginning with his first book, From the Abandoned Cities, which was a National Poetry Series winner. More recently, he won the 2004 Lenore Marshall Award and is a two-time winner of the PEN Center USA Award in poetry. He has also received the Gertrude Stein Award, two Shestack Prizes, two Pushcart Prizes and fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, as well as from the Ingram Merrill and Guggenheim Foundations. His most recent book is The Bitter Withy (Alice James Books, 2009).
Revell has taught at the Universities of Tennessee, Missouri, Iowa, Alabama, Colorado, and Utah. He currently teaches at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. He lives in Las Vegas with his wife, poet Claudia Keelan, and their children. In addition to his writing, translating, and teaching, Revell was Editor of Denver Quarterly from 1988–94, and has been a poetry editor of Colorado Review since 1996.
Revell received his B.A. from Harpur College in 1975, his M.A. from SUNY Binghamton in 1977 and his Ph.D. from the University at Buffalo in 1980.
For those of you who have time for more than two words, I'll expand to three sentences.
1. Pay attention. 2. Fall in love with the world. 3. Write.
That aside, Revell does spend considerable time on select poems. Those instances are worth reading, but can become tiresome as the same points are reiterated.
In the poetry of attention we therefore find a pious materialism. Sad and strange that these two notions -- piety and materialism -- should be so generally proposed (and opposed) as antitheses. Their separation banishes the eye to a wilderness of mirrors. It banishes poetry to a metaphysical preschool. It compels aggression, setting sanctity loose upon unimproved matters of fact, constructing God knows how many golf courses, both real and metaphorical, as it goes. (I fly each week of the academic year from my home in Arden, Nevada, to my job at the University of Utah, and I cannot tell you how many times I have overheard some passenger propose to "improve" the glorious spaces of Zion National Park or the Wasatch Mountains with a golf course.) It's un-American. Wasn't the very fist chapter of Walden called "Economy" and wasn't Thoreau's economy expressed as faith in the worlding (natur naturans) of the world?
About looking. Light, negative, positive space, shapes, possibilities. Would be friends with Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek and John Berger's Ways of Seeing. I really liked the first two sections--on looking, and on translation. The translation essays reminded me (and I needed to be reminded) of a translation phase I went through that was really helpful in dealing with, well, for lack of a better term, "writer's block" (though I share his resistance to that term).
The bulk of this book is good--quick read, important conversation--but the last section (Revell on Revell) lost my interest.
Unfortunately, as a craft book, this is a waste of time and money. Perhaps his argument is immanent: the world is argument enough for beauty in itself, and does not need to be imposed upon by ego/argument/formalism for formalism's braggadocio. Pay attention! Perhaps it is because "attention" has been of so much focus in our "distracted" era this book did not age well. Who knows? Gross, I am writing this review in the style of the book.
It was intriguing as a sort of literary coming-of-age memoir of Revell, discussing how his own poetics changed and how his life events impacted. He seems like a nice person, and he loves poetry! This book made me wonder, "who edited this thing?"
Trying to branch out and read more variety and different types of writing. All I succeeded in doing was confirming this is not what I like to read and sleeping very well afterwards.
I'm working my way through the poetry books in this series over my winter break.
This book is divided into three parts. In Part I, Revell argues for careful attention to the things of the world in poetry. This creates, he argues, a kind of peace--having a "careless," spontaneous, and mostly nonrepresentational aesthetic leads to some kind of better poetry, and, he almost suggests, more sacred, as there is very much something spiritual (as well as qualitative) in his argument--the best poetry tells the world how it is, rather than how we want it to be, and this is a sort of acceptance, which is some kind of peace. In Part II, he discusses the joys of translations, and has some interesting things to say about the peacefulness of this work--the source material is already there, it is sheer joy for the poet to decide on the correct alternatives in picking words. In Part III, he goes through his books and talks about how his writing has changed.
This is definitely a good book for Revell fans. (I haven't read much. Regarding his excerpts in this book, his style seems to be pretty realistic and moseying and understated, which I found boring). I also generally like his argument for openness in vision and heart--there's something exciting and inclusive and all-encompassing about the idea of a poetry that is like a door for the world--no commentary, just communication. At the same time, though, not all poetry has Revell's aims, and it seems a bit narrow to argue (which he never outright does, but it is implied), that this "poetry of attention" ought to be the only aim for poetry. Also, he never really defines the "peace" he claims poetry ought to aim for. And finally, he never acknowledges the artifice and craft that is inherent to all poetry--a poet always chooses, shapes, revises; this "openness" to the world which Revell describes sounds pretty awesome, but a poet has to make decisions in terms of deciding what part of that world to share. Part II was readable but broke no new ground about the work of translation, as far as I'm concerned, and as I'm not really a reader of Revell, Part III didn't have much relevance for me.
Donald Revell starts out by saying that duration shapes a poem. That as you observe and reveal what you see the poem grows. Sounds simple. He uses examples from Denise Levertov, and Charles Olson.
He says, "I have a real dislike for the term "writer's block," a term that seems to imply an altogether fictional urgency. Nobody ever needs to write a poem, and how in the world can an absence prove a present impediment?" I do not use the term writer's block so resonated with this assertion, but I do feel the need to write poems.
There were two exercises in his discussion of translation that he uses when he teaches. (page 71) He refers to Apollinaire and has made me curious to read Samuel Beckett's translations.
The book is a 'should read' book for me and I had to force myself to finish it. He used his own successive books to review and analyze his poetry. I found his elevated language book distracting. The word antinomian for example. I frequently look up words as needed when I read poetry; but coming from the school of Dangerous Writing, where the simple understandable word is preferred, I found it frustrating as the book progressed. This word comes out of theology, it relates to a doctrine, he uses it in a sentence, " As it turns out the optic nerve is an antinomian."
I'm sure there is a lot more I can say, I've started reading The Art of Time in Memory by Sven Birkerts and I am loving it. I also learned Mark Doty is writing on for the seried The Art of Discovery (I think, it's in the new journal Oranges & Sardines). I'm excited to continue reading this series.
THE ART OF ATTENTION: A Poet’s Eye by Donald Revell
I will not pretend to be an expert on poetry. I saw this series of short books on writing published by the always excellent Graywolf Press, and this was the only one at the library. The title intrigued me and I wanted to know how a poet looks at the world.
I liked the parts of this book better than the whole. The individual sentences better than the larger point Revell was trying to make, which, to my mind, frequently lost its way.
Revell’s argument for poetry is compelling: “Beginning in the senses, imagination senses farther, senses more.” The “proud” mind makes the metaphor, creating a divide between appearance and reality, whereas the eye, opened up enough, makes effortless poetry.
“Matters of form and content and all such workshop mumbo jumbo disappear in the sovereign dazzlement of the material world, once the bright activity of its material shines. There simply isn’t, as Charles Ives knew, any work to do. The poetry just keeps happening.”
I liked the section on his translating Apollinaire (and it made me want to read that guy), but when he looked at his own poems it didn’t unearth anything interesting for me.
I am looking forward to reading the other books in this series, especially The Art of Subtext and The Art of Time in Fiction .
Every writer should read this entire series of writing books by Graywolf Press. This one was particularly instructive because it helped attune me to the different ways a writer needs to pay attention--which is important for someone like me, who is increasingly distracted and scattered.
Such high hopes for this one. I enjoyed parts of it, and mostly all in the beginning. It was a slow burn after that. Halfway through the "translation" chapter he lost me, which became increasingly abstract and superfluous. A poet's book, no less.
For all the dancing and long-winded takes around vague notions, I can still appreciate his perspective on "vision" as an essential function to the poet. So let's talk about what does work. The first 50 pages are my favorite part and the part that redeems the rest of his ramblings later in the book. There's an emphasis on leaning into what you can see without forcing it, or better said by the author: "Poems are entireties undisfigured by intent and upheld by perfect attendance.... What shapes a poem? Simple duration. To presence, the poet adds time by adding attention."
You come to write poetry better by forcing less and seeing more. Revell argues that all good and pure poetry is already 'given', which we can come to receive by quieting distractions and noticing what is already there. From there, the poetry can write itself. I find that to be a beautiful idea but impractical, in that poetry is poetry not because it describes our immediate, physical environment like some manual of reality, but because it lends our reality with something deeper. And it's not usually the first few thoughts that come to mind that make for the most memorable lines in poetry.
Still, there is a piousness and spiritual intention underlying Revell's writing, who likens the process of writing and reading poetry as a kind of meditative act.
This little volume is either genius or word salad, and I am either humbled or disgruntled enough to not know the difference. Perhaps read aloud, it might sound more like one long poem, thereby lending some substance to it? Regardless, I thought it would help me in my poet's journey.
I'm quite certain it did not.
Here's just a random sample, so you'll see what I mean:
"In the poetry of attention we therefore find a pious materialism. Sad and strange that these two notions--piety and materialism--should be so generally proposed (and opposed) as antitheses. Their separation banishes the eye to a wilderness of mirrors. It banishes poetry to a metaphysical preschool. It compels aggression, setting sanctity loose upon unimproved matters of fact, constructing God knows how many golf courses, both real and metaphorical, as it goes."
...reminds me of some of my philosophy courses in college. But I was high a lot back then, and somehow that helped this kind of language make sense.
Or maybe I was just smarter back then than I am now.
One of the interesting things about "The Art Of . . ." series from Graywolf Press is that there is not a consistent tone from book to book, neither is there a set format. Each one has the author's fingerprints all over it. Revel's tone might be best described as devotional, even confessional. His description of what it means to pay attention, and how that translates into poetry has a deeply spiritual component about it, though not one that prescribes to a particular theology beyond attentiveness. In the last chapter, he goes through some of his poems chronologically to see if he kind find the kind of profession and growth towards greater attentiveness that he called for in the first parts of the book. I felt as though I was reading a form of centering prayer for poets.
The author informs us that "this entire little book is nothing but a gloss" on the line "Christ pupil of the eye." I don't believe in Christ's divinity, or in God, but I still enjoyed this mystical consideration of the essence of Poetry, an approach which focuses on the poet's Eye and I. Looking askance at the habits of many contemporary poets (babbling workshop mumbo jumbo, revising and crafting to excess, fussing over metaphors, laboring over line breaks, exalting the imagination over observation, etc.), the author praises the pure-of-heart poet who pays easy, happy attention to the ongoing, unfolding world where all is well, all is now, all is everlasting. I recommend this book as an enlightening, radical alternative to most poetics.
I do not know Donald Revell's poetry. I picked up a couple books in this series and began reading this one before Birkerts on time and the memoir. Revell casts off formalism and "effort" to advocate for his poetry of attention, an eye to/on the outside world and on a mystical reception of the poem by the poet. I might argue with such a conclusion stated so absolutely but his prose is wondrous and elusive enough to not offend (and what stakes do I really have in poetry debates anyway?). The first section of the book is on attention in other poets, the second on the effect translation of Apollonaire had on Revell's attention, and the final section is a sort of memoir in poetry that critiques much of his own early work for its inattentiveness.
Energetic prose on inspiration by Apollinaire's translator and poet (some people are born for certain things, like Kirk Douglas playing Van Gogh in that corny Hollywood version [and will I always associate Gaugin with Anthony Quinn?], but he LOOKS like him and has that sharp-edged edginess we associate with Vincent), so Revell has brought Guillaume to us in freshly steaming portions... This book treads that difficult terrain of aesthetics and spirituality, and has a slice of what Ginsberg called "a boatload of sensitive bullshit" but I'm riding with it... and it's good to read unabashed poetic God-consciousness... whynot!
Alas, this book by Revell is not as sterling as I might have wished--anyway, it didn't inspire me or cause me to think in new ways about poetry or creative acts. I'm not sure if it is his prose style (which sounds as though it might be better delivered orally, in a talk) or the repetitiveness of some of his catch-phrases, or the possibility that I have simply read far too many books on poetry, poetics, creative writing, etc.
I agree with his premises whole-heartedly, but found little "new" in this slim book.
Revell's lyrical writing style nearly made this book unreadable for me, as I would get lost in the rhythm and rhyme of the words he used and completely miss what they actually meant. It's an excellent bedtime read. I will say that if you're looking to get introduced to the "form" of poetry, and how to read like a poet, this is an excellent guide. Included are some delightful snippets of works from other poets, and some of Revell's own works. A bit boring and honestly presumptuous in places, hypocritical in others, a bit hard to really get into, but linguistically quite beautiful.
The poems that Revell sited, and many of his insights about poetry are amazing. They challenge what I think about my favorite poems, and also helped me to think newly about poems I would, in the past, have dismissed as "unsurprising." I am utterly grateful for that. On the other hand, the book often felt overly analytic to me, like I was reading a text for a college course. I think this book is best read in small doses.