February 5, 2010

Review by Michael MeyerhoferThe Selected Poems of Li-Po tr. by David Hinton

THE SELECTED POEMS OF LI PO
translated by David Hinton

Anvil Press Poetry
Neptune House
70 Royal Hill
London SE10 8RF
UK
IBSN 978-0856462917
1998, 160 pp., $16.00
http://www.anvilpresspoetry.com

The elegant genius of Li Po hardly requires further mention here. As a long-time fan of Chinese and Japanese poetry in translation, I came to this book with great excitement and admittedly high expectations. That might have been my undoing. Despite the overwhelmingly beautiful imagery inherent in these deceptively simple poems, I found myself greatly distracted by the often strangled feel of David Hinton’s translations.

This is far from Hinton’s best work, I’m afraid. To be honest, I caught myself wondering more than once if these translations were done by one of my ESL students then just sent to press without much editing. I was surprised to learn that this book won the Landon Translation Prize from the Academy of American Poets, given that a large percentage of these translations are frankly very hard on the ears! I applaud Hinton’s efforts to bring still-greater attention to the fantastic poems of Li Po; unfortunately, the translator seems to have confused economy of language with playing fast with loose with basic grammar.

Case in point, a couple lines from Hinton’s translation of “Frontier Mountain Moon”: “A hundred thousand miles long, steady/wind scouring Jasper-Gate Pass howls.” Hinton’s translation forces a rather unnatural caesura after “Pass” and the whole line feels a bit overloaded, i.e. the wind is steady, scouring, AND howling without a single comma to let us catch our breath!

Now consider this alternative: “A hundred thousand miles long, steady/wind howls, scouring Jasper-Gate Pass.” Those simple changes are much easier on the ears and sacrifice none of the poem’s imagery.

Here’s another example, this time from “At Fang-ch’eng Monastery, Discussing Ch’an with Yuan Tan-ch’iu”: “It’s like boundless dream here in this/world, nothing anywhere to trouble us…. There’s a bird among blossoms calling…” The imagery is lovely but the syntax is unnecessarily rough. Again, consider a few simple changes: “This world is like a boundless dream,/nothing anywhere to trouble us…. There’s a bird calling among blossoms…” These slight alterations preserve the imagery and feel of the poem without completely losing the music of the lines.

Sometimes, the problem isn’t Hinton’s grammar so much as his word choice. Consider “Morning up near White River origins…” (“Written While Wandering the White River in Nan-Yang, After Climbing onto the Rocks”). To be fair, I don’t speak a lick of Chinese, but I can’t imagine Li Po intended the Chinese equivalent of as vague and bland a word as “origins.”

Another example is the odd choice of the word “distances” in “On heaven’s wind, a sea traveler/wanders by boat through distances” (“Song of the Merchant”). How on earth do you wander THROUGH distances? Why not just say, “On heaven’s wind, a sea traveler/wanders distances by boat”, or even the more liberal, “On heaven’s wind, a sea traveler/wanders great distances by boat”?

The point of a translation is to express the overall image and feel of the original work, given the rules and pitfalls of a different language. In other words, obviously some latitude must be taken on the part of the translator. Often, I get the feeling that Hinton was trying to pack each line with as many verbs and adverbs as possible.

Now and then, though, he gets it right. For example, in “At Yuan Tan-ch’iu’s Mountain Home,” he goes with “…still sound asleep under a midday sun…” instead of “still under a midday sun sound asleep…” which you might have expected, given his atrocious syntax elsewhere. I also really enjoyed his translation of Li Po’s four line poem, “Gazing at Crab-Apple Mountain”:

Up early, I watched the sun rise again.
At dusk, I watched birds return to roost.

A wanderer’s heart sours bitterly. And here
on Crab-Apple Mountain, it’s only worse.

In general, Hinton is at his best when Li Po is at his briefest. Another good example is “Written on a Wall at Summit-Top Temple,” also just four lines:

Staying the night at Summit-Top Temple,
you can reach out and touch the stars.

I venture no more than a low whisper,
afraid I’ll wake the people of heaven.

The use of the word “venture” is a bit strange, but far from a deal-breaker, given how Hinton manages to convey quite brilliantly the simple elegance of the poem as a whole. Still, there are times when the hiccups are just too hard to ignore.

Case in point: the final lines of “After Climbing Pa-ling Mountain, in the West Hall at K’al’yuan Monastery: Offered to a Monk Beyond this World on Heng Mountain”: “…I feed on kind winds,/ new blossoms teaching mind this vast.” I want to be clear on this: there’s a period after “vast.” Now, I don’t want to sound picky because I know that “vast” can technically be used as a noun, but aside from John Milton, you’d be very hard-pressed to find anyone who uses it as anything but an adjective. In other words, it’s unnecessarily and unproductively unusual, since I doubt Li Po had Milton in mind when he wrote it. A better word would be “vastness,” maybe “emptiness” or even “void” in the Zen sense. Also, “mind” requires “my” before it, since the poem is clearly referring to the narrator’s mind, not minds in general. I’m all for stylistic play with language, but this isn’t the place for it. This is Li Po, not e.e. cummings.

Overall, as much as I was irked by some of these translations, I still found merit in the book as a whole. As always, I applaud David Hinton for his work and influence. I just get the sense that these translations would be vastly improved with a little more time, a bit more polish, and maybe a bit more liberty on the part of the translator.

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Michael Meyerhofer’s second book, Blue Collar Eulogies, was published by Steel Toe Books. His first, Leaving Iowa, won the Liam Rector First Book Award. He has also won the James Wright Poetry Award, the Marjorie J. Wilson Best Poem Contest, the Laureate Prize, and the Annie Finch Prize for Poetry. His work has appeared in Ploughshares, North American Review, Arts & Letters, River Styx, Quick Fiction and other journals, and can be read online at www.troublewithhammers.com.

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January 1, 2001

Open Poetry

Conversation with
Ellen Bass

 

Rattle #40

Releasing in June, Rattle #40 is our first-ever entirely open issue. With no theme or focus to consider, we simply chose our favorite 42 poems from the tens of thousands that had been submitted to us over the previous six months. One of poetry’s responsibilities is to represent the tenor of the times, and these poems do, covering pop culture and politics, love and lust, truth in beauty, and tragic violence. Jon Sands decodes the Trayvon Martin case, Alison Luterman responds to mass shootings, and Moe Szyslak (of The Simpsons) calls the Listen Lady. In other poems we find canned coats, a lost mermaid, crepe myrtles, and the “ridiculous big” Fried Elvis sandwich. These are poems of horror and humor and heart, with a new story on almost every page.

In the conversations section, Alan Fox discusses poetry and life with the always-vibrant Ellen Bass.

 

Audio Available = audio available

Open Poetry

Audio Available Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz Things That Happen During Pet-Sitting
Corrina Bain When the Focus Group Calls …
Audio Available Ellen Bass How I Became Miss America
Audio Available Michael Bazzett The Last Expedition
Francesca Bell I Long to Hold the Poetry Editor’s Penis …
Where We Are Most Tender
Audio Available C. Wade Bentley Storytelling
Audio Available Roy Bentley Ringo Starr Answers Questions …
Tom Chandler A Kind of Lincoln
Bill Christophersen Hole
Bruce Cohen Career-Minded
Steven Coughlin Sacred Heart
Audio Available Kwame Dawes Rope
Audio Available Kim Dower Boob Job
Audio Available Kelly Fordon Tell Me When It Starts to Hurt
Alan Fox Two Poems
Chris Green Christmas Canner
Mark Hendrickson Cupcakes
Tom C. Hunley Moe Szyslak
Audio Available Charlotte Innes The Ex
Audio Available Ann Eichler Kolakowski Triolet for Laika, First Dog in Space
Audio Available S.H. Lohmann What It Means to Be Taken
Alison Luterman When I Heard About the Gunman
Audio Available Marie-Elizabeth Mali Mind Too Much
Audio Available Michael Meyerhofer Virginity
Audio Available Matthew Murrey Box Turtles Fucking
Audio Available Alicia Ostriker Ghazal: Freedom in America
Audio Available Julie Price Pinkerton Why I Opted for the More Expensive …
Audio Available Marge Saiser The Story, Part of It
Jon Sands Decoded
Audio Available Megan Sexton In Favor of Union
Audio Available Eric Paul Shaffer The Word-Swallower
Virginia Smith [The Age We Live In]
Jacob Sunderlin Fried Elvis
William Trowbridge Dead End
Audio Available Twixt Untitled
Wendy Videlock Merchant Culture
Timothy Daniel Welch Bolero
Audio Available Mark Williams Identity Theft
Yim Tan Wong Boy Stirring Puddles With a Stick

Conversation

Ellen Bass

Photography

Doug Brenizer

Open Poetry

Conversation with
Juan Felipe Herrera

 

Rattle #44

Releasing in June, Rattle #44 is another entirely open issue. We simply chose our favorite 37 poems from the tens of thousands that had been submitted to us over the past year. It’s summer, and poetry has turned up the heat, it seems, with visits to strip clubs and topless swimming pools, and Kenny Tanemura’s brilliant “Ode to Short Shorts.” But it’s not all love and lust: These poems run the gamut of contemporary human experience, from churches to trust falls, suicide to salvation. The issue also features several long poems, including Lucas Crawford’s unforgettable indictment, “Your Fat Daughter Remembers What You Said.”

In the conversations section, Timothy Green discusses poetry and life in a lively conversation with California Poet Laureate Juan Felipe Herrera.

Now Available!

 

Open Poetry

Audio Available Nic Alea River
Audio Available Jose Angel Araguz Abandoned Church
Andrew Bennett Spring, 1989
Audio Available Jacqueline Berger Ruin Porn
Daniel Bohnhorst The Butter Smells Funny
Kim Bridgford For the Female Suicides
T.L. Burns Fucking the Gap
Marty Cain Rat King
Audio Available David Cavanagh The Ice Man
J.P. Celia Before Riding West
Audio Available Teresa Mei Chuc I Took Nothing
Beth Copeland What I Remember as My Father …
Lucas Crawford Your Fat Daughter Remembers …
Audio Available J. Divina Erickson No Body
Alan Fox The River
Troy Jollimore The Cutting Room
Stephen Kampa Cardiac Concussion with Delay …
Audio Available Sharon Kessler Everything Is Broken
Marianne Kunkel I Guess
Britt Luttrell Topless Swimming Pool
Audio Available Michael Meyerhofer On My First Trip to a Strip Club
Audio Available Jeffrey Morgan Translation
Z. Mueller The Difference Between String and Spring
Audio Available Kathleen Diane Nolan Mars and Venus
JoLee G. Passerini Circumspect
Audio Available Robert Peake La Campagna, London, Friday Night
Charlotte Pence Among the Yellows, the Faces Slack
Audio Available Amy Plettner Church Bulletin
Doug Ramspeck Diaspora
Audio Available Sam Sax When Research Public Sex Theatres …
Rebecca Schumejda A Lobster’s Home
Janice D. Soderling The Diminishing Politics of Senator …
Taylor Supplee Clay
Kenny Tanemura Ode to Short Shorts
Audio Available Bruce Taylor Good News Bad News
William Trowbridge Battleground
Audio Available Paul Watsky Trust Fall

Conversation

Juan Felipe Herrera

Photography

Sebastian Lauf

November 25, 2008

Review by Eric Greenwell

LEAVING IOWA
by Michael Meyerhofer

Briery Creek Press
201 High Street
Farmville, VA 23909
ISBN 978-0977447121
2007, 63 pp., $10.95
http://www.brierycreekpress.org/

In Michael Meyerhofer’s first full-length collection, Leaving Iowa, winner of the Liam Rector First Book Prize for Poetry, he ventures to drift off the page into a vivid world of dreams and fantasy, were it not for the consistent chain that binds him to the follies and vulnerabilities of being human, anchoring him here, with all of us, in reality. With astounding linguistic awareness, he presents this complex struggle in a very lucid way, conveying concepts as complicated and depthless as the faculty of imagination with comprehensible simplicity (“I grew in its shadow, knowledge that there was something in this world I could not see”). And this relatable quality extends further, as Meyerhofer’s speaker exists in a world no different from our own, full of repairmen, handshakes, haircuts, trips and falls, funerals, sex, mothers, religion and the Trojan War. Meyerhofer embeds these concepts in narratives with a fierce dedication to honesty, sparing not the dour truths of life, acting as a brilliantly diverse and all-inclusive account of human emotion—a voice of humor as well as tragedy.

The first section of this book consists predominately of first person narratives. In “Death, the First Time,” the initial poem in the collection, the reader is exposed to human fragility in an experience laced with familiarity: “I was seven, running across the ice/when I slipped and cracked my skull,/blood bursting like crimson novas…” Physical vulnerability is brought to the forefront. Note that we are not invincible; we have accidents; we break like vases and glasses succumbing to gravity, a force enacted upon all things with no exceptions. Our uniqueness lies in our ability to feel, yearn and improve our state. Unfortunately, life will be cruel and emotionless, constantly thwarting our attempts. This truth adds a profound layer of depth and beauty to Meyerhofer’s prevailing honesty:

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December 5, 2008

Review by Michael Meyerhofer

OCTOPUS
by Tom Hunley

Logan House Press
Route 1 Box 154
Winside, NE 68790
ISBN – 978-0-9769935-3-7
2008, 80 pp., $12.00
www.loganhousepress.com

Tom Hunley’s Octopus is the kind of book that feels like the poet had just as much fun writing it as I had reading it. For me, a book of poetry has to pass the dog-ear test before I consider it one of my favorites; Octopus passed that test with ease. Here is a poet of sharp wit, integrity, and bittersweet intellect. He is also a fine craftsman of sharp imagery.

For example, in “Release,” Hunley gives voice to a captured rainbow trout: “I’m no wall trophy. / Let me go.” The poem goes on to mention Cho Seung Hoi, responsible for the infamous murders at Virginia Tech, but does so with poignant grace and respect, merely describing: “32 orange and white balloons / lifted up, launched into the night” (40).

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May 20, 2009

Review by Michael Meyerhofer

FAR FROM ALGIERS
by Djelloul Marbrook

Kent State University Press
307 Lowry Hall
P.O. Box 5190
Kent, Ohio 44242
ISBN 978-0-87338-987-7
2008, 72 pp., $14.00
http://upress.kent.edu

Djelloul Marbrook’s first book, Far From Algiers, is the kind of book you want to buy over and over—partly so you can support such a fine “emerging writer,” but mostly just so you can give copies of this humorous, heart-wrenching book as gifts for everyone you know. These are wry, insightful, accessible verses that shine with a lyrical wit often lacking in today’s poetry.

I had the great privilege of seeing Marbrook read at the AWP conference in Chicago. Honestly, I’d never heard of him before that, nor seen his work in journals. As I sat and listened, though, I was immediately floored by one thought: How on earth have I never heard of this guy before? Marbrook’s poems—grandfatherly, mortal, sometimes political but refreshingly free of proselytization—struck such a chord that I bought his book as fast as I could. Now, having just finished it, I’m writing this review at three in the morning because frankly, I don’t think I can sleep until I give just credit where credit is due.

Right away in the first poem, “Climate Control,” we realize (more…)

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August 25, 2009

Review by Michael Meyerhofer

AMERICAN FUTURE
by Peter Bethanis

Entasis Press
Suite 72
1901 Wyoming Avenue NW
Washington, DC
ISBN 978-0-9800999-4-2
2009, 100 pp., $12.00
www.entasispress.com

I am still reeling from Peter Bethanis’s American Childhood, a wonderfully refreshing book full of big, good poems that span a twenty year period (1988-2008) and range in topic from American consumerism to the life of Li Po, along the way addressing divorce, fatherhood, identity, and loneliness. Right out the gate, Bethanis dazzles us with his title poem:

In 1963 the morning probably seemed harmless enough
for my parents to sign on the dotted line
as the insurance man talked to them for over an hour
around a coffee table about our future.
“This roof wasn’t designed to withstand meteors,”
he told my father…

Here, we see Bethanis’s chief talents as a storyteller: subtle rhythm, imagery, and humor. Sincerity follows in abundance—in this poem and others, like these poignant lines from “Fishing with Grandfather”: “The doctors have given you three, / maybe four months, but nothing stops / your hands from bicycling in bass after bass, / each one flopping like an amp needle to the boat’s side.” These lines might label Bethanis a Deep Imagist, but there are meta-poems here, too, plus excellent turns of phrase like this opening to “The Sophist’s Cellar”: “The sophist stubs his toe / on the meaning of things.” Bethanis is clearly a man who owns many hats, and wears them all quite well.

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