Category: Omnidawn

Rusty Morrison with Keith Waldrop

Keith Waldrop
Keith Waldrop

The subject of this interview is Waldrop’s book The Not Forever.

Rusty Morrison: It was such a delight for me, when you offered Omnidawn The Not Forever! I couldn’t believe our great good fortune. As I wrote in the book description that we are using for our press materials, “These poems take not only mortality, but also the impossibility of truly assessing mortality, as their endlessly inexplicable subject.” These poems “assess the quintessentially human inability to exact knowledge from the existence that we live, as well as from the inexistence that we each are veering toward.” The poems frightened me, and yet they “friend-ed” me too: they are ferociously generous in their candor. I want to ask about your relationship to these poems. Can you tell me a little about your intentions for the book?

Keith Waldrop: I think you have gotten the book right. I couldn’t express it better. Continue reading

Rusty Morrison with Paul Hoover

Paul Hoover
Paul Hoover

Small-press publishers have the lucky opportunity to talk candidly with authors about the downturns and updrafts of the creative process which brought them to the moment of completion that we call a book. As Omnidawn’s co-publisher and senior poetry editor, I’ve had that great good fortune. It finally occurred to me that the readers and reviewers of these books might enjoy hearing some of this talk, too. Of course, a book of poetry needs no introduction or liner notes. But I’m always interested in any stories about how and where authors’ intentions and the actual creative work tangle together. So I started asking each of our authors a few questions in writing, and then enclosing these “interviews” with our advance/review copies. When the book is published, I post the interview on the book’s web page. The Conversant’s editors have asked if they might select some of those interviews to publish. It is my pleasure to say yes! The interview focuses on Paul Hoover’s book, desolation : souvenir.

Rusty Morrison: What aspects of your history and/or what particular obsessions of yours do you see apparent in?

Paul Hoover: desolation : souvenir began as a “filling in” of the blank spaces in A Tomb for Anatole, Paul Auster’s translation of Mallarmé’s grief-stricken notes for a poem that he never completed on the death of his ten-year-old son. However, my writing soon turned to my own consideration of life, death, the breaking of family relations and loss of love as experienced by all of us: Continue reading

Rusty Morrison with Cyrus Console

Cyrus Console
Cyrus Console

Small-press publishers have the lucky opportunity to talk candidly with authors about the downturns and updrafts of the creative process which brought them to the moment of completion that we call a book. As Omnidawn’s co-publisher and senior poetry editor, I’ve had that great good fortune. It finally occurred to me that the readers and reviewers of these books might enjoy hearing some of this talk, too. Of course, a book of poetry needs no introduction or liner notes. But I’m always interested in any stories about how and where authors’ intentions and the actual creative work tangle together. So I started asking each of our authors a few questions in writing, and then enclosing these “interviews” with our advance/review copies. When the book is published, I post the interview on the book’s web page. The Conversant’s editors have asked if they might select some of those interviews to publish. It is my pleasure to say yes! The interview focuses on Cyrus Console’s book, The Odicy.

Rusty Morrison: You have described the title of The Odicy as a pun on Odyssey (Homer) and Théodicée (Leibniz). Would you say more about this choice, about your relationship with these two texts, and/or your choice to use a pun as a title?

Cyrus Console: I have never managed to feel entirely comfortable with this title—it’s a stupid pun—but it sticks because of something the wordplay does with regard to the religious experience, or the idea of religious experience, realized or unrealized, that drives much of the writing. It really affected me when, early in the project, I noticed that you could break the theo-prefix, common in English and derived from Greek θεό-ς, “god,” in order to yield the definite article, “the.” It seemed to me that the definite article was the point of contact between form and content or between language and the world—it seemed literally to articulate “the chair” I was sitting in from “chair,” as a position in a vocabulary or as a category in the mind. Part of what I wanted the book to do was narrate a variety of religious experience that was more or less atheistic, and I liked the way the introduction of a single en space turned “theodicy” (from the OED: “The, or a, vindication of the divine attributes, especially justice and holiness, in respect to the existence of evil; a writing, doctrine, or theory intended to ‘justify the ways of God to men.'” Cf. optimism n. 1.) into “The Odicy,” which refers both to the epic and to a more general idea of wandering. Continue reading

Rusty Morrison with Calvin Bedient

Calvin Bedient
Calvin Bedient

Small-press publishers have the lucky opportunity to talk candidly with authors about the downturns and updrafts of the creative process which brought them to the moment of completion that we call a book. As Omnidawn’s co-publisher and senior poetry editor, I’ve had that great good fortune. It finally occurred to me that the readers and reviewers of these books might enjoy hearing some of this talk, too. Of course, a book of poetry needs no introduction or liner notes. But I’m always interested in any stories about how and where authors’ intentions and the actual creative work tangle together. So I started asking each of our authors a few questions in writing, and then enclosing these “interviews” with our advance/review copies. When the book is published, I post the interview on the book’s web page. The Conversant’s editors have asked if they might select some of those interviews to publish. It is my pleasure to say yes! The interview focuses on Calvin Bedient’s book, The Multiple.

Rusty Morrison: When I first read this work in manuscript, I heard echoing in it Deleuze’s assertion, “A principle of the production of the diverse makes sense only if it does not assemble its own elements into a whole.” I felt stunned by the myriad ways that this collection of poems is, to use Deleuze again, “An addition of the indivisibles.” One could say that you marry contrasting dictions and categories, using their intimacy as interrogation and that you juxtapose the literary, the sacred, the lascivious. But that would not reflect the disarming coherences, the unexpected accord in which these poems accordion forth, unfurling such a lively, uncanny, daunting music. Yet music it is. I’ve not read poems like these before. Can you speak to your intentions for the book?

Calvin Bedient: That is an extraordinary description; what hopes I have for the book’s reach can be found somewhere along the generous way of it. Indeed and instinctively I cultivate diversity and divergence, on the one hand, and on the other a jump-cable linkage or lyrical coherence of opposites. My writing is alive to me only if it is strange and surprising at every point. “I’ve heard that before” or “I know that connection” are anathema. What good is a poor copy of what has already been done? I listen for the work’s difference even from itself. All on its own, as it were, the poetry wants to show that, loosed from its common discursive ruts, experience tumbles forth in a mixture of dismay and delight. Even so, the work’s unresolvable elements may join together in a vital motion that surpasses or at least contests its splintering. This motion, this drive to feel out the “indivisibles,” results, in part, from a need to keep the work dynamic, to reject the notion that history has squashed life. Despite their skepticism, the poems sometimes behave as if they want to attain to an uber stage of music and feeling that will bind the elements, bind them in flight. For it really does seem to me that in some (though not clearly not in all) the poems the elements are being assembled and united, not just serially paraded. But, again, the shattered and shattering constitution of being prevents totalization; it founders before the inappropriable and groundless sense of existence. You see how I go around and around in circles—dialectic as rotation. Continue reading