7.15.2014

It is better to destroy than to create what is meaningless

Williams opens the last section of Book III of Paterson with the following passage -

It is dangerous to leave written that which is badly written. A chance word, upon paper, may destroy the world. Watch carefully and erase, while the power is still yours, I say to myself, for all that is put down, once it escapes, may rot its way into a thousand minds.

The passage is reminiscent of a killer line in a song called "Immigration is the Sincerest form of Battery" by the band Every Time I Die: "It is better to destroy than to create what is meaningless."



Williams warns us to destroy all sub-standard work - erase it while you can still control it - before it does any damage. The song makes a similar point.

The song itself, I think, is a reference to a great film called 8 1/2 by Federico Fellini. The film is about a young director struggling to make a film that never gets made. It's basically a film about a film that can't be filmed. Guido, the filmmaker says: "It's better to destroy than create what's unnecessary."

Paterson came first, in 1958. 8 1/2 was made in 1963, and the song was recorded in the 2000s.

It's heady stuff:
The artist as perfectionist / struggling with lack of control
Bad ideas as dangerous / poisonous
The responsibilities of creators
Creator's shame of juvenilia





6.24.2014

William Carlos Williams on Nothingness

Book 2, part 3 begins with this short poem:


Look for the nul
defeats it all

the N of all
equations

that rock, the blank
that holds them up

which pulled away -
the rock's

their fall. Look
for that nul

that's past all
seeing

the death of all
that's past

all being.



Try reading it this way:

Look / for that nul / that's past all / seeing
The death of all / that's past / all being


The "nul" (Null = nothingness) is the "Blank that holds them up" The null "which pulled away (causes) the rock's their fall" The Null underlies and holds up everything. Nothingness is the foundation of being. The fact that there is anything is dependent on the fact that there could be nothing.

Look for it!

6.20.2014

The Structure of Paterson (so far)

I'm just starting to get into Paterson now, but I'm picking up on the pattern. Williams is braiding 3 or 4 separate story lines together so that they all interrupt each other. We have a straightforward historical narrative, items from local newspapers, a meandering free verse poem that follows his walking around town, and mixed up scraps of correspondence.

The river and the falls feature prominently in the book with lots of references to water:

with the roar of the river / forever in our ears ...
challenging our waking

the pouring waters of their hair ...
the gathered spray

6.05.2014

Paterson: An Introduction

William Carlos Williams was born in Rutherford (Northeast NJ, across the river from New York City.) Rutherford itself is just south of Paterson, which is NJs 3rd largest city, behind Newark and Jersey City. Williams epic poem "Paterson" is a monument to, and personification of, the city.

Paterson is a hilly, industrial town whose borders are partially defined by the Passaic River.


Paterson, within Passaic County, within New Jersey


The Great Falls of the Passaic River

Paterson, defined by the Passaic



5.30.2014

Late Pynchon

I finished Bleeding Edge last week. It was...good.

Thomas Pynchon is a certified genius and a literary giant. Some of his earlier books, V, The Crying of Lot 49, and Gravity's Rainbow are amazing perfect masterpieces that will twist up your brain for years. This is the problem. He was too good.

It seems like he's in cruise control now. Where his earlier books were capital-L Literature, his newer work is just fiction. Vineland, Inherent Vice, and Bleeding Edge are probably his 3 weakest books. But they're good books! Just not Peak Pynchon-level good. His early work is so dang good that his later stuff just seems like filler.

Frustratingly, he's shown sings of old self in his new work. Lots of people liked Mason & Dixon. (I didn't care for it, but still..) Against the Day was really great too.

I hope that he knows. I hope he's just easing into retirement. Tossing out pretty decent books with little effort. Making bucks.

Kurt Vonnegut (so good!) famously gave all his books grades, A-F, like a report card. And he knew which ones were good and which ones weren't. I hope Pynchon is similarly self-aware.

This is blasphemy, but here's how I would grade him:

V. (B+)
The Crying of Lot 49  (A)
Gravity's Rainbow  (A+)
Vineland  (C)
Mason & Dixon  (B-)
Against the Day  (A)
Inherent Vice  (C)
Bleeding Edge  (B-)

5.12.2014

5.07.2014

Bleeding Edge Cover Analysis

The cover art for Bleeding Edge is typically, Pynchon-esquelly, complicated. The thing has about 10 layers of symbolism, referencing skyscrapers, city streets, data centers, older Pynchon novels, and more. There is even a visual trick built into the printing process -- the cover appears black and white but shimmers into color when you look at it from another angle (couldn't possibly be anymore Pynchon-y.)

Here's a good breakdown of the cover:
http://bleedingedge.pynchonwiki.com/wiki/index.php?title=Bleeding_Edge_cover_analysis



3.26.2014

Perfect Ben

If anyone asks me what kind of writer Ben Marcus is, I will use this single quote from "Against Attachment", part of chapter 5 in "Leaving the Sea" to explain.

"Graves were called homes, and apologies known as writing were carved in their surface. Rotten bags were called people."

Maybe one more, from "First Love."

"The shovels we use to cleave the air in two - and possibly reveal a person we might fail against - were once abbreviated as hands. [...] When we faced off with a person, the sound of our four shovels colliding produced a shield of silent, wind-free air known as home. This was when there were only two choices how to behave, on or off. We would apparently put some objects into our mistake tunnel, which was still the main opening in the face, and the tunnel was able to convulse around them and propel them deep into the body's grave, which was then called, I think, a belly."