Volgens ‘n berig op The National Post se webblad het die nuwe besems by die legendariese Paris Review meer as net skoongevee, aangesien hulle binne ‘n oogwink nie net die aard en reputasie van dié ikoniese literêre tydskrif verander het nie, maar ook ‘n beduidende aantal van hul gereelde bydraers vervreem het.
Dit is naamlik die gevolg van die nuutaangestelde hoofredakteur, Lorin Stein, se besluit verlede maand om Robyn Creswell as poësie-redakteur aan te stel. Die probleem is dat nie een van dié twee digters en/of poësiekenners is nie. Die gevolg? Ek haal aan: “As such, the pair who have overseen the section (the Holy Grail of literary journals for poets) for years, Meghan O’Rourke and Dan Chiasson, elected to move to positions entitled ‘advisory editors.’ Along with new leadership comes new creativity, which is presumably the logic under which Stein and Creswell were operating when they received a year’s worth of accepted poems from O’Rourke and Chiasson and promptly un-accepted a stack of them from established poets such as Joshua Corey and Michael Schiavo. In those cases, about a year after the acceptances, each received a terse e-mail from Stein saying thanks but no thanks.”
Schiavo was vinnig om te reageer, via ‘n onderhoud met Daniel Nester: “I know Mr. Stein wants to put his stamp on the journal, and I respect that. But he’s also representing almost 60 years of literary history, a cultural institution bigger than himself.” Corey, ‘n bekroonde digter en mede-professor in Engels aan die Lake Forest College in Chicago, het hom soos volg oor die aangeleentheid uitgelaat: “This felt personal in its impersonality, if you follow me – like I was being declared an un-poet or an un-person. It struck me as an extremely unwise and unprofessional solution to a problem that the editors themselves had created, and I said so. Stein did write back briefly and apologetically, saying something to the effect that he wasn’t happy about the decision but that it was the best solution they could come up with. Pretty weak stuff.”
Volgens Lorin Stein word daar egter nou met hul volgende uitgawe (September) ‘n “holy sh*t” poësie-seksie beplan. Nou ja, toe. Indien dít die strekking van die man se metaforiese taalgebruik is wanneer hy entoesiasme jeens ‘n bepaalde projek probeer aanwakker, is ek bevrees dat ons liefs nie té opgewonde moet raak nie …
Nietemin, as toegif plaas ek dan vanoggend ‘n gedig deur Michael Schiavo onder aan die Nuuswekker.
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Nuwe leesstof op die webblad vanoggend is die 10de aflewering in Yves T’Sjoen se reeks “Lees maar, er staat meer dan de tekst” en in dié aflewering word die poësie van Paul Snoek en Maurice Gilliams bespreek. Dan is daar ook nuwe blog-inskrywings deur Andries Bezuidenhout wat skryf oor ‘n uitstalling van beeldhouwerk in die Hoëveldse winter, en Carina Stander wat ‘n gedig van Antjie Krog van nader bekyk.
Inderdaad heerlike leesstof. So, geniet dit.
Mooi bly.
LE
You seek a great fortune
Letting loose the children to the graveyard, she becomes
A bog filled with mosaic women, tiny-breasted, lithe,
A place to recite the alphabet backwards, forwards — again,
Meaning now a pauper to the Creole at the bottom of the stairs.
Of our scrupulous testing, which never ceases to condemn me:
Is a high song, the chorale majestics of the crossroads
Closed on Sunday, “the good day” to be closed,
Or a page from a burgundy book taken to the Restaurant
Poetry and wolfed, but not the kind you think of, the word uttered “with”
On a stage propped against the leeward side of a hogback.
“The hollyhocks in the bee glade.” These words. These words
Descending upon every fatal ear, which is every ear, which is
The most annoying part of all this. Apologies to our tenants:
We’re making duplicate keys. Be patient. You’ll soon be in.
© Michael Schiavo