Behind the scenes at The Great Paris Review Poetry Purge of 2010: part 2.

Behind the scenes at The Great Paris Review Poetry Purge of 2010: part 2.: "

This is Part 2; Part 1 is here.

On July 16, just days before Lorin Stein sent out an email to several poets to un-accept their work, he remarked to the New York Observer that he was “putting together what he hopes is a “holy shit” poetry section for his first issue on September 15.”

In June, Mr. Stein oversaw the transition of Meghan O’Rourke and Dan Chiasson, poetry editors under Mr. Gourevitch, away from the section and brought in Robyn Creswell, who is working toward a doctorate in comparative literature at New York University. “My original background is more in poetry than in prose, so I have my own views,” said Mr. Stein, who studied poetry at John Hopkins University.

Dan Chiasson, a respected poet-critic, took over the co-editing the Paris Review‘s poetry section from Charles Simic in Fall 2008. “I now feel like I’m involved in all steps in the poetry production chain,” Chiasson told Poets & Writers in January 2009. “I write poetry; I teach poetry, which exposes me to fresh and unformed young minds; I review poetry for newspapers and magazines; and now, at the Paris Review, I read unpublished work by accomplished, award-winning poets and rising stars, and have a hand in selecting it for publication. It’s very thrilling to be so involved and to see the differing mind-sets of students versus poets submitting work to me.”

Flash forward to July 2010. “I was disappointed to hear that some of the truly great–in our judgments–poems we had accepted were likely to be cut,” Chiasson writes me yesterday from Facebook mail. He uses the “our” pronoun, referring to his co-editorship with Meghan O’Rourke. “I do support Lorin and his vision for the magazine, which is why I was pleased to be asked to stay on as “advisory” editor. I’ll personally look for other ways that I can help the poets getting bad news–it’s a top priority to make certain this work gets the recognition it deserves.”

Just how many poets’ work has been purged from the production schedule remains unclear. I now know of four poets, and I’ve sent out requests for comment and information from each, and I’ll be posting that soon. Here’s what I’ve learned: that it was not unanimous decision to clear some of the decks to make way for Lorin Stein and Robyn Creswell’s poetry picks.

What is also clear, based on my interviews with several people who know of the situation at Paris Review–but not running it; I still have yet to hear from Stein and Creswell–is that more even more work would have been cut from the Review’s pages if not for Chiasson and O’Rourke staying on in an advisory capacity. That next “holy shit” issue of The Paris Review, in other words, may include work that was to be cut by Stein and Creswell, but was saved in some fashion by their predecessors. Perhaps those entries on the Table of Contents should bear an asterisk.

***

What is above is reportage; here is part of my take on the situation and is certainly subject to debate and comment.

This is by way of making clear why these events merit as high-profile coverage as I am make them out to be. Few would quibble with Paris Review’s place as an anchor store publication credit in the shopping mall of a book’s acknowledgments page, one of the first that would be mentioned in a short and essential writerly bio. The Paris Review is perennially placed in the top 10 journals for a poet in which to publish his or her work; that ranking is arguable among poets and poetry editors who keep a sharp eye on which journals publish those who work is up-and-coming and who are established.

There are various scenarios for how an editor might treat previously accepted work when he or she takes over the reins at a literary journal. At a movie studio, it’s not uncommon for projects to be shelved, sold, dumped; at a book publisher, manuscripts are back-burnered for years, decades, or are given a letter such as Stein’s that addresses an imprint’s new direction. But I would argue literary journals are a different animal altogether; the stakes are lower, sure. Little if any money changes hands, and a single credit in a single journal usually doesn’t make or break a career.

The editors of literary journal—and there are hundreds, even thousands of them in the United States alone—abide by few, if any, common universal regulation. I would say that one bylaw would be that when work is accepted for publication, it is accepted. When a new editor takes over the reins from a predecessor, one of that person’s first tasks is to see what work has already been accepted, what submissions have yet to be read and ruled upon. This is one of the many unsexy jobs of a literary journal editor, but hundreds perform these tasks every day. When I took over La Petite Zine, there were several writers whose work has been accepted. I should point out here that my taking over was not a peaceful one; my predecessor had been let go by the publisher of Web Del Sol for unclear reasons and I didn’t want to know. But I did abide by those previous agreements. Am I a particularly ethical person? I don’t think so. Might this be the reason La Petite Zine has the status it has and Paris Review remains at the top of the heap? Perhaps.

Another explanation is that editors at The Paris Review see themselves as more of a magazine—along the lines of, say, The New Yorker or Harper’s, as opposed to Open City or Fence. In the former’s world, a short story abuts fragrance ads, and work is spiked, kill fees paid; in the latter world, funded by subvention or spouses, run from college cubicle or attic from a laptop’s folder, there exists an honor among thieves in the literary journal world, where all or most concerned realize the stakes are so low that some

Another explanation is that Stein, a former editor at Farrar Straus and Giroux and Cresswell, a PhD student in New York University’s comparative literature program, are still learning how to run a literary journal. All—or most?—of the previous poetry editors at Paris Review have been poets themselves and, and one would assume, would have a knowledge of how literary jourals are run: Richard Howard, Donald Hall, one issue guest-edited by Ed Sanders. That line of succession did not go unnoticed to Dan Chiasson, a Wellesley professor and author of three poetry collections (one on Knopf), when he took over for from United States poet laureate Charles Simic.

I’ll add links and proofread and add more soon.

Filed under: Lit "

The Cordoba Initiative

An excerpt from a piece by Joe Conason at Salon.com:

To clear the air clouded by all these noxious effusions, it’s important to understand some basic facts about the project — and about the Constitution that Palin, Williams and the rest of the Tea Party movement claim to defend. 
The victims of 9/11 included numerous Muslims, as anyone browsing the memorial sites can see. Most of them were working New Yorkers who labored as cooks, waiters, cleaners and security guards in the World Trade Center — people whose suffering concerned the perpetrators of the attack no more than those of the thousands of other Muslims they have murdered in Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan and elsewhere around the world. No religious faith has an exclusive claim on opposition to Islamist terrorism, and no religious group should be excluded or stigmatized in memorializing that opposition. The people who want to build Corboba House have every legal right to do so, and those rights are not subordinate to anyone’s religious prejudice.

The Cordoba Initiative, sponsor of Cordoba House, is an organization that rejects violent extremism and encourages civil dialogue between the Islamic world and the West. So far nobody has found any evidence that Corboba represents a nefarious conspiracy to establish a beach head for Islamism, despite much windy rhetoric devoted to that theme. Moreover, contrary to Lazio’s posturing, New York Police Commissioner Ray Kelly has declared bluntly that he sees no security concerns in the construction of a mosque in that neighborhood. His calm, measured and appropriate response represents the realistic perspective of a law enforcement official who does more to fight terrorism every day than Williams, Lazio or Palin will accomplish in their combined lifetimes.

Finally, the constitutional guarantees of freedom, including freedom of worship, were not suspended by 9/11, despite the efforts of certain politicians and partisans. As Mayor Michael Bloomberg pointed out in defending the Cordoba House project, its opponents are undermining the liberties that define us and distinguish us from our enemies:

"I think our young men and women overseas are fighting for exactly this," he said in reaction to Palin. "For the right of people to practice their religion and for government to not pick and choose which religions they support, which religions they don't." Scott Stringer, Manhattan’s brave borough president, who like Bloomberg happens to be Jewish, challenged her directly in his own tweet: "@SarahPalinUSA NYers support the #mosque in the name of tolerance and understanding. You should learn from the example we set here in #NYC."

To read the entire article, go here.

Hidden Beauty in Tilden Park

Somewhere in Tilden Park is this quaint little pond which my friend and I stumbled upon (twice) as we meandered our way through the trails. It was a hot, hot, hot day, and we two were traipsing about in our sneakers and walking shoes, with no water bottles in hand, and only a little bit of sunscreen and a digital camera. I miss Tilden Park, and I miss Berkeley, and mostly, I miss the weather!

We Gotta Eat Too, You Know

For the better part of Sunday, I was mulling over the sermon that I heard preached at the UMC church I attended yesterday morning. The Gospel lesson was taken from Luke (our oft-times unreliable narrator), a favorite among many, and the story we hear in chapter 10 is about two sisters, Martha and Mary, who are, in their own right, veritable Mistresses of their Domain. The sermon generated so many thought-bombs that at 2am this morning, I started a blogpost.

Whenever I hear this story, I am irritated by the simplistic either-or perspectives that preachers present. More often than not, I'm asked to consider whether I'm more like Mary or more like Martha (and Mary's image is always the more positive one, whereas Martha is depicted more negatively). Although some well-meaning speakers offer "alternative" interpretations of this story in chapter 10 of Luke, I still can't help but think that Martha (and even Mary) gets short-shrifted and therefore her pragmatism is often depicted in a negative light.

I'm not a bible scholar so I don't know how to go to the original text and see if it exegetes itself, thereby shedding some light on the situation. Yet...yet I have to wonder... And isn't wondering what we're supposed to do? Aren't we supposed to talk back to the text? Engage with it, turn it over and over in my minds to see all the nuances?

With this story, my inclination is to believe that Luke got it wrong (perhaps), and that his version of the narrative unnecessarily sacrifices these two women (or at least the depiction of their familial relationships) just so he can teach us a lesson. Sometimes, I think Luke just can't be redeemed. He just gets it wrong somehow.


Some preachers whom I've heard in the past interpret the text as saying that Mary chose the "better" part (v.42, NIV) by choosing to sit at the feet of Jesus. Some interpret the text as saying Mary chose the "good" thing to do (v.42, NKJV) because she chose not to be distracted by multiple frustrations and instead concentrated on one important thing (keeping her eyes on the prize, said one preacher). This is when I wish we could (re)visit the original text (right now I'm wishing I had gone to seminary for this!). Does the text really say "better part"? And "better" than what, and better than whom? What does "better" mean? Does the text really say "Mary has chosen what is best"? What does the author mean? And what do the translators suggest with their different translations?

Some preachers say that Martha chose the "wrong" thing to do. Wrong because she chose not to sit and listen. Wrong because she focused on the material stuff -- the work of this bodily earth -- running about to oversee how things are managed in her home (not unlike what a good admin might do, I think). Not good because she was distracted from her goal, her "prize", from what she was meant to do.

[I've been told that the preacher of an excellently exegeted sermon once suggested that Martha was the figure of the deacon running "in between," ministering in the world not unlike what our deacons are called to do.]

[I'm also having a difficult time refraining from stomping my feet and proclaiming it is UNFAIR that the character of Martha is so often negatively interpreted. She is often presented as a petty, short-tempered, easily distracted busybody who lacked faith and vision. One preacher (re)described it well, though: Mary's sitting there jawboning with Jesus while Martha works like a horse to prepare a meal for them to eat later. Doesn't that sound just a bit unfair? Indeed!]

The sermon that I heard preached yesterday morning suggested that Martha had not chosen "what is best" (v.42 CEV) because she was distracted from what (we think) she should be doing. The lesson to be extracted from Martha's story is that we should not be distracted from our God-given purpose. Look at Mary, we are told, and follow her example. Unlike Martha, Mary knew what she needed to do and did just that, ignoring all others. For not being misdirected, for not multi-tasking, Mary is praised.


But what is Martha's chosen purpose, then? If Martha was to also sit at Jesus' feet and listen to him talk, who would carry the responsibility of overseeing the cooks, ensuring that food arrives on the table in time to eat? While I do not believe Martha and Mary needed to be in the kitchen tending to the water kettle or the bread in the brick oven or the vegetables over the fire (they most likely had help, being mistresses of the domicile), there is still a lot to be managed/overseen in order for a full house to be nourished.  Who would give them the meal they expect to have presented?



Right about now, I hear preachers' voices saying something about being fed with "spiritual food", which is a more better focus than the need to feed our human bodies. This is what many Vietnamese preachers have told me in their sermons. (I hear this a lot when these same preachers attempt to prioritize spiritual hunger over physical hunger, especially when preaching about world hunger and global poverty.) But, no dinner? Let us go back into the Gospels and count how many times Jesus and his disciples broke bread together. How often do they sup in each other's company, do you recall? How often do we hear the Gospels talk about Jesus feasting, eating, dining?

So if they have to eat, then whose lot is it to ensure there is food on the table? As the head of the household, as the manager, the overseer, is it Martha's responsibility to ensure that the household is fed -- guests and all, including all the dirty, burly fishermen disciples?

But the important point is: If there is feeding to be done, isn't it possible for all of them -- Jesus and disciples included -- to pitch in to prepare the meal and then sit down together to enjoy the food and conversation? I'd like to believe that Martha might have had that in mind. We shouldn't simply dismiss the fact that we need to eat (as if it's a bad thing), and we shouldn't simply dismiss the busy-ness or the joys of making a meal. What might have been more interesting was to emphasize the community building, to emphasize family, to present a different vision of what a family or community could do together.

What I  find objectionable is why Martha did not go directly to her partner, her sister, her companion, to ask for help (oh, but, what if she did and Luke didn't tell us that part of the story?!). Because that's what we would do if we were in right relation with each other. If these sisters are true partners who are strong-minded, independent women who have managed a household together, why does Martha have to go to Jesus? Why not address her sister directly? Why this indirect jibe at the sister with whom she has been living for so long? Why complain to the rabbi? Surely she didn't think that he might intercede on her behalf? Or was she indirectly complaining about him, too?

Like I've said earlier, sermons about these two sisters often ask me to ponder whether I would rather be like Mary or like Martha, but neither depiction of the strong, independent women that they must have been (had to have been back in those days) does them justice. While many scholars argue that Luke's gospel advocates women, the poor, the rejected, it sounds to me like Luke is still undermining the sisters' relationship in favor of a seemingly new vision of the kingdom of God. Unfortunately, in Luke, these women are still subjected to a world order in which they are not the mistresses of their domain but are still subservient to a man. (A friend of mine even suggested that we might consider Jesus as having saved Martha by giving her an "out", by giving her an excuse to not be so busy. But, please folks, does she really need someone else, much less a male guest in her own home, to give her an "excuse" to not do work? Why does she have to do this work in the first place? Why isn't it Mary's work? And why isn't this good work?)


It is unfair to separate these two sisters into two separate ends of a spectrum, and it is also unjust to pit one "virtue" against the other. I think it is too simplistic when preachers use Martha as a reminder: a reminder to "stop and smell the roses", a reminder to not busy ourselves with the difficult tasks entrusted to us, a reminder to not be completely overwhelmed by the work that others unjustly foist upon us simply because we are capable. No matter how well-intentioned we are in our interpretations, these reminders more often than not are misunderstood, and the listeners leave thinking (perhaps wrongly) that they should drop everything and just sit at Jesus' feet and listen. In contemporary society, that might be akin to telling everybody to go into the mountains and just sit and listen.

In my opinion, Luke got it wrong, and therefore we get it wrong, too. What I take away from this is the relational aspect of our daily living. How do we live with one another and be in right relationship with each other? If you have a problem, talk it out. Don't go about telling others about your grief, your criticisms, your complaints, hoping that your insinuations will be understood. Be considerate, calm, direct, and discuss our concerns. Do to others what we would have them do unto us. (And in this case, neither Mary nor Martha understood what needed to be done.)

If you wanna eat, and if you want to If you think folks should pitch in and make a meal as a community, then suggest that idea (lovingly, graciously, and firmly). Since we gotta eat, too, highlight the positives that come out of that meal's preparation: you get to enjoy the conversations, appreciate the food and where it comes from, and no one is excluded from the community building. Now that is a true love-feast.

Big beasts

Big beasts: "How elephants have shaped human history"

Here's one example of how art and culture and modern media can come together to save an animal from extinction (we hope). Read on...!