[Editor’s Note: Vance Maverick says that he’s a “software developer and occasional blog commenter who lives in San Francisco.” But I have other ideas. I prefer to think of him riding the range, hat pulled low to keep the setting sun out of his eyes. Regardless, he was kind enough to provide us with an entry for This Day in History. Thanks, Vance.]
On this day in 1978, Louis Zukofsky, one of the most important of the “second generation” of American modernist poets, died in Port Jefferson, Long Island. He was born on the Lower East Side of Manhattan on January 23 or so, 1904 (the date is uncertain), and spent most of his career in New York.
After public schools, including Stuyvesant High, he entered Columbia in 1920, alongside the likes of Lionel Trilling and Mortimer Adler. The professor who influenced him most there was Mark Van Doren (who, writing later on “Jewish Students I Have Known,” called him “a subtle poet” with an “inarticulate soul”). His closest friendship was with Whittaker Chambers. It was supposedly Zukofsky who urged Chambers to read the Communist Manifesto, but he never joined the party himself. He earned an MA in 1924, with a thesis on Henry Adams.
Setting out as a poet, he lived by miscellaneous jobs (bookstores, substitute teaching), until finding work with the WPA in the 1930s. He married Celia Thaew, and they had one son, Paul, a violin prodigy (and later a prominent new-music performer). He did technical writing during the war, then finally found a stable position at Brooklyn Polytechnic, where he taught from 1947 to 1965.
Why celebrate him on an American history blog? It’s not just that he’s important in literary history (or that this happens to be my favorite blog). I think he belongs here because he was dealt a cultural “hand” like many others, but played it in an utterly distinctive way, using it to push the modernist project further than anyone.
Our natural condition, as Americans, is rootlessness — immigration, internal migration, the “melting pot”. Of course there are wide differences in circumstance — Zukofsky, child of immigrants, speaking Yiddish before English, attending a university where he could not teach, must have felt a wide distance from the elite American culture of a Henry Adams. But not far beneath the confidence of that elite, at least in the arts, was a painful insecurity with respect to the mother cultures of Europe. The immediate exemplars, for a poet of the day, were Pound and Eliot, who both tried to reckon with the “mind of Europe” by moving there, and becoming it. There’s a touch of overcompensation in their labors — “Tradition and the Individual Talent”, for example, is magnificent but protests too much. Zukofksy too wrote an intensely bookish poetry focused on the classics, but with a detachment, with no rhetoric to persuade you he is of the same club as the masters, and with an omnivorous eye and ear for the modern world, especially his own New York. (For a light example, take one of his renderings of Cavalcanti’s “Donna mi prega”, preserving all its intricate structure, into Brooklynese, as “A Foin Lass Bodders Me”.) Also unlike his forebears, he embraced polysemy of the word, even to the point of indeterminacy in the text — he once wrote a note on the word “bay” in a poem, enumerating every sense of the word attested in the language and accepting them all. The younger poet Robert Duncan put it most concisely, noting on reading Zukofsky in the ’30s “a kind of self-consciousness in which not the poet but the act of writing was this ‘self’.”
Zukofsky’s first major poem was “Poem beginning ‘The'” (1927), which is among other things a takeoff on “The Waste Land”. He submitted it to Pound ‘s magazine The Exile; Pound accepted it, and became a sort of mentor to Zukofsky in the 1930s. Pound’s antisemitism, sometimes open, complicated the relationship, but he endorsed Zukofsky in a dedication (with Basil Bunting) as a “struggler in the desert”, and persuaded Harriet Monroe to let him edit the February 1931 issue of Poetry.
As editor, Zukofsky marshalled a brigade of obscure poets (notably George Oppen), under the banner of an enigmatic manifesto proclaiming them “Objectivists”. Nothing to do with Ayn Rand: rather, in the most condensed formulation,
An objective–rays of the object brought to a focus,
An objective–nature as creator–desire for what is objectively perfect,
Inextricably the direction of historic and contemporary particulars.
The movement vanished almost as soon as it was born. From here on, Zukofsky focused his own poetic objective on the composition of a long poem, “A”. He worked on it until the 1960s, when he finished “A”-23, and his wife Celia capped the book with “A”-24, a vast collage of extracts from earlier parts of “A” and other texts (set in parallel with Handel keyboard pieces as accompaniment). The material of “A”, historical, contemporary, and highly personal, is as various as its styles: from a Williamsesque free verse to extreme formalism (the tightly rhymed “canzoni” of “A”-9), occasionally minimalism (“A”-16 is four words long) and in the later parts, an increasingly condensed form based on a regular number of words per line.
In his Long Island retirement, he worked steadily on his last major work, 80 Flowers, in which each poem is five lines of five words on one flower each, ravishingly beautiful and practically opaque. Meanwhile, his reputation grew. He encouraged and corresponded with younger poets, such as Robert Creeley. The University of California Press brought out “A” complete, in 1979 (he was able to see the proofs before he died). His poetry is well-established now in academic study, and he has been an inspiration to new generations of poets, notably the “Language” tendency arising in the 1970s.
For a taste of his poetry, here’s the ending of “A”-11. It’s a dedication of his life’s work, his “song”, to his wife and son; at the end, the song itself begins to speak, telling them:
Honor
His voice in me, the river’s turn that finds the
Grace in you, four notes first too full for talk, leaf
Lighting stem, stems bound to the branch that binds the
Tree, and then as from the same root we talk, leaf
After leaf of your mind’s music, page, walk leaf
Over leaf of his thought, sounding
His happiness: soung sounding
The grace that comes from knowing
Things, her love our own showing
Her love in all her honor.
—
My main source is Mark Scroggins’s fine new biography The Poem of a Life. For criticism, a good starting point is the Zukofsky special in Jacket 30 (July 2006). (This is drawn from the proceedings of a centennial conference at Columbia.) See also Ron Silliman’s blog, passim. And most of all, see the books. I swear by “A” and the Complete Short Poetry, but the best place to start is probably the recent Selected Poems edited by Charles Bernstein.
16 comments
May 12, 2008 at 5:52 am
The Modesto Kid
Have not (I think) read any Zukofsky (I am generally intimidated by Modernist poetry which is not The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock); but I’m looking at his Wikipædia entry and loving his books’ titles — e.g. Prepositions: Collected Critical Essays. And Bottom is an utterly fantastic title for a book on Shakespeare’s plays. Should take a look I guess.
May 12, 2008 at 7:40 am
eric
Hey, this is great, Vance. Ari, I never knew “This Day in History” would be so much better if someone who knew and cared about stuff wrote it.
May 12, 2008 at 7:56 am
grackle
Thanks. I second eric’s sentiment. What a great way to start a monday in May. I’m going to have to find some of those five word five line flower poems.
May 12, 2008 at 8:22 am
The Modesto Kid
Grackle: a couple of them are quoted in the midst of this long, interesting post on Michele Leggott’s “Reading Zukofsky’s 80 Flowers”. Also, the only Objectivist poetry I can find on YouTube is a reading of The Menage by Rakosi.
May 12, 2008 at 8:26 am
The Modesto Kid
Sorry, I mean “a filmic interpretation of”.
May 12, 2008 at 9:13 am
John Emerson
‘Vanished” is far too strong. However, as far as I know none of the Objectivists had any serious official acceptance, much less commercial success, and some of them fell silent.
Lorine Niedecker and Charles Reznikoff have single-volume collections out: “Collected Works” (California) and “Complete Poems” (Black Sparrow), respectively. Not voluminous, about 500 pp. ea., but concision was an Objectivist tenet. I recommend both. (Reznikoff was a NYC Jew and Niedecker was the daughter of a Wisconsin carp seiner, so there’s your diversity for you.)
I believe that Cid Corman also ran with this crowd, and he has a unique style and many books published. I know less about Rakosi and Oppen. Basil Bunting was the sole British affiliate, AKAIK.
Steve at Languagehat is a bit of an Objectivist-fancier, and derivatively, so am I now.
May 12, 2008 at 9:15 am
Vance Maverick
Hey, TMK, glad to have piqued your interest. Definitely check him out. About intimidation, two things — Z’s work gets so “difficult” that, as a reader, you learn not to let that bother you, to make sense of what you can and music of the rest. Negative capability, if you will. And on the other hand, most of the poets associated with Zukofsky — Oppen, say, or Lorine Niedecker, for whom I should have made room in the note — share his modernist sensibility but are much less “scholarly” and daunting.
May 12, 2008 at 9:18 am
Vance Maverick
Right, John, the “Objectivist” poets didn’t vanish. But the label was a flag of convenience.
Corman published Zukofsky, and was an important correspondent, but their relationship began after the Objectivist moment.
May 12, 2008 at 11:17 am
thegenealogist
the passenger manifest of the arrival in New York of the SS Majestic from Cherbourg, France on 13 September 1933, gives the date of birth of Louis Zukofsky aa 29 Jan 1904, and two addresses – 39 Sidney Place, Brooklyn, and The Department of Philosophy at City College, NY. The passenger manifest does not state whether or not he was an “objectivist”. :-)
May 12, 2008 at 11:51 am
Vance Maverick
Jan. 29 is one of three dates that, at one time or another, Z thought were his true birthday. Scroggins’s account of the confusion is itself rather confusing — but clearly the essential problem was that his parents, who hardly spoke English, had trouble communicating with the midwife.
That trip was sponsored by Ezra Pound and WC Williams, among others. The reference to CCNY is interesting — I don’t remember it being mentioned in the bio.
May 12, 2008 at 10:30 pm
Vance Maverick
Two bits of unintegrated trivia:
Zukofsky’s first name is pronounced “Louie”, like Armstrong.
May 12th is the anniversary not only of his death, but of Lorine Niedecker‘s birth. She was a fine poet in her own right, and close to LZ personally. Recently it emerged that they had had an affair (before he knew Celia), even gotten pregnant, etc. Scroggins banishes this story to an appendix. On the one hand, I take his point that there’s only one source for it, an estranged former friend of Zukofsky’s. On the other, S surely had to be careful not to antagonize Z’s son Paul, who’s known to be tight with permissions, copyright, access, etc. (Not quite on the level of Stephen Joyce, but then Z is not on Joyce’s level of fame.) So I won’t refrain from hinting at the story, but I’ll banish it too, to a comment.
May 13, 2008 at 10:24 pm
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Wow, what strange trackback spam. It took me a while to realize that the articles that page links all contain “Charles” and “Adler”, not necessarily together.
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