Erika Writes:
Recovering from a Wearying Week
The word of the week is “weary.” That’s really the only word I can come up with for how I’m feeling right now. I’d like to say a few days of good, solid rest will resolve that, but I don’t really believe it. I’ll do my best to rest anyway because rest is restorative, even if it won’t get me all the way to where I want to be.
Part of the weariness is residual. It’s as if the research for this week’s column on consent has left me hungover. I did a lot of reading as I got ready to write that piece. I know there are probably things I left off of that list, too. For instance, I spent time reading reviews of Katie Roiphie’s 1993 The Morning After, I wasn’t about to read the book again–I hated it the first time I read it, when it was part of the curriculum for a research methods class I took in 1994 or 1995. I definitely have that book on my anti-recommendations list. I don’t need excuses or date rape apologists.
Try Not That Bad, which was edited by Roxanne Gay if you’re looking for a good book about rape culture. Of course in this headspace, I seem to keep going back to Laurie Halse Anderson, too, and I thumbed through my copy of Speak this week.
Twitter-Chatter about Poetry
There was some interesting chatter on Twitter this week about poetry, too, specifically about Rupi Kaur. Someone I was chatting with expressed some criticism about her work and we began talking a little bit about the Instagram poetry movement. As someone who reads a lot of poetry, and who writes it as well, I explained that when I read Rupi Kaur or other Instagram poetry, it’s a different reading experience than reading poetry in a book.
I did pick up my copy of The Sun and Her Flowers after that conversion. So much of what she writes is Instagram-able; short, easy to fit into little tiny posts. I don’t write that way, and on the occasions I’ve put bits of my own poetry on there, it’s a line or two from a poem, but the whole piece (unabridged) just doesn’t fit the instagram format. The question came up though- are those one- or two-line compositions that people post to Instagram poems? The same person wrote both both of these verses:
learning not to envy
someone else’s blessings
is what grace looks like
—-
how do i welcome in kindness
when i have only practised
spreading my legs for the terrifying
what am i to do with you
if my idea of love is violence
but you are sweet
if your concept of passion is eye contact
but mine is rage
how can i call this intimacy
if i crave sharp edges
but your edges aren’t even edges
they are soft landings
how do i teach myself
to accept a healthy loveif all i’ve ever known is pain
Is one a poem and not the other? Are they both poems? Neither?
Instagram Poetry
What makes a poem a poem? What makes something poetic? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, as I’ve worked on a few new poems, begun the process of getting ready for National Poetry Month and spent a lot of time reading Emily Dickinson. She’s never been a favorite poet of mine, nor are Victorian era poets generally the ones I go to first when I’m looking to read poetry for fun,but the last week or two, I’ve just had reasons to read it.
Hope is the thing with feathers, and all, you know?
Speaking of hope….
The Hard-Hitting Poetry of Alanis Morisette
The piece I was working on about consent had me deeply immersed in memories of the 90s. There was some good music that came out then, but I think I listened to Alanis Morisette’s album Jagged Little Pill half a dozen times in two days. We all know “that song”–I have incredibly vivid memories of driving home from work at night, singing as loudly as I could along with the radio, “And I’m here, to remind you, of the mess you left when you went away…” It was a good song, a good album for a time in my life when I was twenty and full of anger and no one had managed to capture it quite the way Alanis did.
(My other big musical memory of that summer is the death of Jerry Garcia. I took the train into NYC after work and went to Strawberry Fields in Central Park where people had gotten together–there was singing and dancing, and crying,and a sense of community that reminded me of one of my favorite places in the world.
As much as I love the album Jagged Little Pill, and as much as 20 year old Erika needed that album, I found myself also playing this song on repeat as I was writing. At 20, my anger was loud and needed to be shouted. At 27, when “Hands Clean” came out, I understood that there were times when my anger was loud and times when it was quiet, and they coexisted. Fast forward another 20 years and now I’m learning to honor both the quiet and the loud and to really give them the space they need, using the power that comes from anger to create instead of just steeping in it or blowing it up.
Sweeney Todd and Human Resources (there’s a pun in there somewhere)
I can’t seem to escape the same themes–anger, consent, revenge, things like that. I ended up watching Sweeney Todd the other day. I’ve seen it on stage, I’ve watched the movie, and while I prefer the stage version, I found the film satisfying, considering my recent state of mind. And I’m still watching documentaries. This week in particular I watched Stalking for Love, which was actually research for the consent article, about the ways in which movies romanticize the idea that continuing to pressure your crush for attention when you’ve been rebuffed is a sign of love, not a threat. I watched a few other things, too. A lot of short, YouTube documentaries. Three channels this week:
Half as Interesting
Intelexual Media
I am very much looking forward to the premier of the Big Mouth spinoff series Human Resources. Binging that show is part of my plan for this weekend. The new season of Bridgerton is coming, too. I’ve had a couple of recommendations for the Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee series on Hulu and also American Crime Story: Impeachment, and I may check those out too.
Really though, I just need to take time to focus on a little bit that’s good for me in the next few days. And maybe that will bring me back here next week with a few more good ideas for you.
Adam Writes:
I have a different take on music and poetry this week. I’ve been thinking a lot about Indian vernacular English. This isn’t the place where I convince you that non-standard Englishes are real, valid languages/dialects in their own right. If you need that kind of convincing, please reach out to me/us in private. It’s a fascinating story.
I have to keep myself from indulging in at least telling the short version here. I just love talking about the history of language. One day, I will likely treat that subject in full. Not because I think there’s an ounce of merit in the counter-arguments. Not because it’s just a coincidence that the places with all of the guns and bombs (London, Washington DC, etc) happened also to get to dictate the rules of the language. Just because, like I said, I love talking about the history of the language.
Linguistics-Tube? That Doesn’t Sound Right…
I do enjoy watching the occasional linguistics video on YouTube. This creator is particularly interesting/amusing.
And of course there is this amazingly simple video illustrating the Indian writing systems:
An interesting aside. Did you know that among the six largest population centers in India (Delhi, Bombay, Hyderabad, Bengaluru, Ahmedabad, Chennai) no two have the same primary language and only two (Bombay and Delhi) share a written language?
The Poetry of the Everyday?
One of the things I’ve learned about Indian English in the past six years, but especially in the past couple of weeks is that it’s more compressed and rhythmic than American English. In short, it’s more poetic. I don’t mean that as orientalist nonsense. Surely we can agree that there are places where the socio-economic circumstances encourage the production of poetry. And the literary value of speaking multiple languages has been well-documented.
In the England of Shakespeare’s adulthood (1580s to 1610s) most of the most successful poets and playwrights were the children of modest upbringings. Shakespeare: glover’s son. Middleton: bricklayer’s son. Jonson: Bricklayer’s stepson. Spenser: attended Cambridge on a scholarship. Something about a widely available and easily accessible education (with an intense focus on linguistics and rhetoric) produced a mass of poets.
Just so. Circumstances conspire to make Indian English more poetic than American English. The only thing we non-Indians can really do about it is accept the reality and then work harder to keep up.
Favorite Phrases in Indian Vernacular English
To start with, the stock-phrases are punchier.
“What does that mean?” gets shortened to “…means what?”
“What do you want me to do with that information?” or “What do you want me to do about that?”
gets shortened to: “What I’ll do?”
“Would you like some tea/chai?” becomes “chai I’ll keep?” or “I’ll keep chai?”
And lots of things get doubled for emphasis: “Should I have two rolls? becomes: “Two-two rolls I’ll eat?”
It really is a pleasure to listen to.
Needless to say: all of these are direct translations of Hindi grammar/syntax/vocabulary. So as with any region, learning their way of speaking English is a window into learning Hindi (or Marathi, or Telugu, or…)
And the fact that the phrases are so short means that tone of voice matters much more. The language is not quite tonal; but as is the case with short phrases in American English, tone tells. The same phrase can sound loving or concerned or sarcastic…
The one thing I suggest is: don’t watch Indian news. It may be there is some gem of a program but mostly I’ve found it to be even more shouty and graphics-intensive than American news. And that’s saying something.
Rest in Peace, Lata Mangeshkar
Another thing about visiting India is that stereotypes resolve themselves into real complexities. One example is the case of Lata Mangeshkar, who died last month at the age of ninety-two. She is widely considered the most important/influential Indian singer of the 20th century. In her later years, she was chided, even outright mocked for having a shrill and nasal singing-voice. But I think her case is similar to Bob Dylan. His live performances have gradually become unlistenable. But we remember what he was like in his prime.
So some friends have been introducing me to what Lata-Ji sounded like earlier in her career. It really is an extraordinary voice. Not just that. She is an extraordinary artist. I strongly recommend listening around a bit. This video, for instance, is instructive. Her voice is so warm and yet so nimble. Nothing like her later years.
Inevitable Bach Stuff
Anyway, I still found time to listen to music this week. While cooking, mostly. I gravitated to this recording purely because it doesn’t have advertisements. But once there, I find Shunsuke Sato’s interpretation of Bach’s works for solo violin (without bass) quite convincing.
Until next week! And remember: contributing to our Watch/Listen/Read is the easiest way to get your foot in the door if you want to write for us.
