There is not, however, a great deal to say about the book, much of which is the literary equivalent of erasing the irises from a magazine photo of Robert Lowell and pencilling in crossed eyes.

Which is fine.

DT

Perhaps if we could find the food we were looking for?

It’s not generally advisable to use a book of poetry as a substitute for a cookbook, or to buy “a random book of poems” so dreadfully impulsively. If you are willing to subscribe to the idea that the Yale Series is an arbiter of taste, or has credibility, then you should also be willing to put in the effort necessary to find the depth in the pages of your purchase. Strangely enough, you seem upset that Jordan Davis’s review didn’t help you find the said depth. Just as a book of poems is no replacement for a cookbook, a review is no replacement for thought. Back to the grindstone with you! Read the book again, perhaps when you’re not so tired. You might find it more… dare I say?…appetizing.

I read W.S. Merwin’s introduction to the book at a coffeehouse while waiting for the people behind the counter to make my sandwich. It seemed to say nothing except that the poems were light and funny, employed satire without the spirit of criticism or castigation that usually underlies the device, and that Merwin thought they were cute. He also threw them into a tradition that included Frank O’Hara and John Ashbery.

Then last night, because I couldn’t sleep, I read the whole thing, cover to cover.

Then this afternoon, because I still couldn’t sleep, I read the review. The timing was excellent.

I loved the Einstein/Napolean poem. I loved some of the nearly one-liners, like “Ambition.” Most of the poems, though, with their pop culture juxtapositions and neohistoricisms, have the same blank wit and lack of emotional depth that I usually attribute to Mark Leyner.

I have to say that I am surprised that Jordan Davis gave this book such a glossing of a review, though, knowing the author, it may have been an effort to protect him from a more in-depth criticism of the book as whole.

Of course, I’m sure I’m coming off here like that guy that doesn’t want anyone to have any fun, but if I had written that book of poems, I would read them at birthday parties and events for MFA students, sort of like a more public version of telling a few dirty jokes. I’m just shocked that a book of cute, jokey poems first wins the Yale Younger Poets series and then gets a nice review from a very respectable reviewer. Maybe poets in general need to lighten up and write more humorous work. Maybe we should look at our mission purely in terms of entertainment. But I think there’s something missing from that. Poets delight their audiences with more than just laughs. There are possibilities for the challenging and humorous and poignant to be brought together under one roof. Look at John Ashbery or Ben Marcus or a host of others. This work is humorous, but rarely poignant or challenging. And the review never even looks at the quality of the work, its themes, or, well, anything else.

FHB

The Davis review is sub-par. I learned little from it other than Goodman has an eclectic sensibility and that he lives in Japan. Futher, the excerpted lines aren’t particularly enticing either. Surely there were better choices–especially if Davis wants us all to go out and buy the book.

Presumably a review should provide some insight as to 1) why a book should be read; 2) why a book shouldn’t be read; and 3) how one might possibly approach the book in terms of understanding central themes, tropes, language concerns, historical context, etc. The Davis review essentially neglects all these things.

It seems that most of the commas in Christine Hume’s review are now question marks, resulting in an otherwise right-on piece sounding as if it’s being dramatically interpreted by a drunk valley girl.

“…it’s been forgotten or neglected?by publishers, funding agencies, and readers?and therefore…”

(Rad.)

In fact, the whole page is fucked up. The pictures and everything.

Jordan’s piece has one particularly conspicuous mistake: “While I generally follow. Publisher’s weekly…” And I think there is one, if not two, of the errant question marks in question there as well.

I’m sure you’re probably aware of this.

To express my regret for having to be that letters-to-the-editor-guy, and because I think constant critic is a good idea, and also because I’m making a rotten sentence right now and this whole bit has hardly anything to do with literature, I offer up these fine Neil Hamburger jokes:

“Why did the farmer start a punk rock band?
Because he was tired of Hall & Oates.”

“Why does Britney Spears sell so many millions of records?
Because the public is horny and depressed.”

“Why did Michael Jackson dangle his infant son over his hotel balcony?
He was punishing him for refusing to finish his plate of sperm.”