"P. and Pubs"

The New Yorker  and  Poetry magazine:

I have, courtesy of my parents, a long time subscription to TNY.  But the relationship between TNY and myself goes back almost as far as high school, when I used to go the top room of the library where they stored the back issues, and read all the cartoons.  As Calvin and Hobbes were to my children, so were TNY cartoons to my youth.  I don’t know how much I learned from them; but the love of language therein displayed was a part of that exposure that has stayed with me. 

There was also an air of mystery and challenge in the cartoonery noted above—Obscure/NY references never offended me but made me wonder and of course with Google—I’m kind of glad I didn’t have it then—it does take the wonder out of my bread!—it’s all too easy to “extry extry read all about it!”

As to Poetry magazine, I requested that of my sister, who was actually editing a theatre magazine at the time; I had requested a subscription to her publication in order to see her editorials at least; but she felt it would be too arcane to me.  So, as I had perused a couple of issues of Poetry (hereafter known as “P”) given to my son Daniel also by my parents; and as I had been deep into writing poetry 30 years ago, it occurred to me that maybe it was time to give poetry another chance.  As one can see, it has already been a good resource even in the first issue—which is actually part of the centenary celebration of the longest running small magazine in American history.

What I have noticed is the following—most of the cartoons in TNY and most of their poems do not revolve around a political axis. One thing that separates political cartooning—and there is a bit in TNY—is that it thrives generally on put-downs, hence is not all that funny, and can be—leaving aside the occ. tribute theme-- more  irenic and frankly negative than anything else on the editorial pages. I have saved hundreds of cartoons over the years but very few are political and I can’t quote any.

 And I can quote a lot of ‘toons!

 If one is going to be generally funny, I feel that one has to go deeper, actually, than political statements.  In general, art based on political views—all the worse when they are openly partisan—has little lasting value and one does not go back to it spontaneously; contrariwise, look at skits like The Dead Parrot, The Cheese Shop, and “No One Expects the Spanish Inquisition” (or do they?) These can even parody religion and still appeal to a   huge swath of humanity regardless of politics or  ideology.

Part of that is because these skits’ subject is human nature, not human ideas—and it is often the ideas we come up with that are parodied as being unworthy of the persons, and hence the people become sympathetic in and of themselves. When we make idiots of ourselves we are actually more sympathetic, realistic, and kind to ourselves and others than when we make a pretense of being perfect and—God forbid—perfectly right—which is probably the most unfunny thing we can do to ourselves. And striving for mere ideological purity is the state of mind and judgment most unfair to ourselves, as we set up goals that we can never reach.  This makes up a large portion of American Malaise and the polarization which most people abhor verbally, but are addicted to and just can’t stop. Much of this is driven by polemic pieces, which are not unlike a shot of whiskey to an alcoholic—“Just one can’t hurt!”

P seems to be pretty nonpartisan so far—and much more open to spiritual themes. But one would be hard-pressed to find a magazine so professionally and tastefully done. In contrast  most other magazines look  rather garish by comparison. I suppose that that is due in part to their partisanship to poetry!!!  The few ads in the back are all in black and white and very low key.

It is really no wonder, in retrospect, that I once fled to poetry, and may again. And I observe that Ste. Google will still not help you to understand the poem, in essence, any more than Big Blue could. Poetry is not usually a neat equation, though it may be a preposterous one.

Thus I find that it is still very much of a refuge and respite; which is what it always has been; but though a lot of it is entertaining—and funny, yes!—it is at its best a multilayered effort that to the world looks ambivalent at best, and hostile to civilization, principalities, and powers at worst; hence often the first to be outlawed. (C.f. Garcia Lorca—whose poetry could be political—but there was so much more.

“Upon the point of a pin is my heart twisting.”  I know.      –Lorca, “He Died at Dawn”