Showing posts with label Billy Collins. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Billy Collins. Show all posts

Saturday, January 09, 2016

Wordy Weekend

I stumbled over the word "fnord" when reading online the other day. I initially took it as a typographical error, but checked anyway.
Wikipedia: Fnord is a word used in newsgroup and hacker culture to indicate that someone is being ironic, humorous or surreal. Often placed at the end of a statement in brackets (fnord) to make the ironic purpose clear, it is a label that may be applied to any random or surreal sentence, coercive subtext, or anything jarringly out of context (intentionally or not).

So now I know.

Another look-up occurred when husband called to me "What's a pinniped?" He was in the midst of his breakfast-time read of our local newspaper. Wikipedia to the rescue again: Pinnipeds (from Latin pinna "fin" and pes, pedis "foot") commonly known as seals. Oooo-kay - but I couldn't help wondering why someone writing for a local newspaper in Oklahoma would be writing about seals, and further, why didn't they simply write "seals"?

Looking for a book to read while drying my hair I picked up a stray I didn't recognise from my bookshelves: Ella Minnow Pea. I still do not remember why I bought it, or from whence it came. It's a 2001 novel by Mark Dunn. The full title of the hardcover version is Ella Minnow Pea: a progressively lipogrammatic epistolary fable, while the paperback version (mine) is titled Ella Minnow Pea: A Novel in Letters.

More look-ups!
A lipogram (from Ancient Greek leipográmmatos, "leaving out a letter") is a kind of constrained writing or word game consisting in writing paragraphs or longer works in which a particular letter or group of letters is avoided — usually a common vowel, and frequently E, the most common letter in the English language. Larousse defines a lipogram as a "literary work in which one compels oneself strictly to exclude one or several letters of the alphabet."

Writing a lipogram may be a trivial task when avoiding uncommon letters like Z, J, Q, or X, but it is much more difficult to avoid common letters like E, T or A, as the author must omit many ordinary words. Grammatically meaningful and smooth-flowing lipograms can be difficult to compose. Identifying lipograms can also be problematic, as there is always the possibility that a given piece of writing in any language may be unintentionally lipogrammatic. For example, Poe's poem The Raven contains no Z, but there is no evidence that this was intentional.

I haven't read very far into the novel yet, and am not confident I shall stick with it.
From the book's back cover:
Ella Minnow Pea is a girl living happily on the fictional island of Nollop off the coast of South Carolina. Nollop was named after Nevin Nollop, author of the immortal pangram,* "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog." Now Ella finds herself acting to save her friends, family, and fellow citizens from the encroaching totalitarianism of the island's Council, which has banned the use of certain letters of the alphabet as they fall from a memorial statue of Nevin Nollop. As the letters progressively drop from the statue they also disappear from the novel. The result is both a hilarious and moving story of one girl's fight for freedom of expression, as well as a linguistic tour de force sure to delight word lovers everywhere.

*pangram: a sentence or phrase that includes all the letters of the alphabet.

From the little I've read, so far, I have Ella Minnow Pea categorised as a very, very twee lady's version of "1984", and suspect I shall come to the conclusion that it'd be preferable to re-read "1984".

Ella Minnow Pea is, I guess, an allegorical novel. At last, a word I do know well!
Simple Definition of allegory : a story in which the characters and events are symbols that stand for ideas about human life or for a political or historical situation.

All of which brings me nicely to this:


Flicking through my copy of "Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes" (oddly named volume of selected poems by Billy Collins) I landed on The Death of Allegory. I like it! It reminded me of a couple of old posts of mine touching on the topic of allegory: Stops on a Mythical Journey from 2013; and The Rabbit Hole of a Wandering Mind from last year.

To save copy typing I've lifted it from Poetry Foundation website.

(I trust I am not going to be hauled over the coals copyright-wise - if I am breaking any law the item will be removed forthwith upon instruction to do so.)




The Death of Allegory
By Billy Collins

I am wondering what became of all those tall abstractions
that used to pose, robed and statuesque, in paintings
and parade about on the pages of the Renaissance
displaying their capital letters like license plates.

Truth cantering on a powerful horse,
Chastity, eyes downcast, fluttering with veils.
Each one was marble come to life, a thought in a coat,
Courtesy bowing with one hand always extended,

Villainy sharpening an instrument behind a wall,
Reason with her crown and Constancy alert behind a helm.
They are all retired now, consigned to a Florida for tropes.
Justice is there standing by an open refrigerator.

Valor lies in bed listening to the rain.
Even Death has nothing to do but mend his cloak and hood,
and all their props are locked away in a warehouse,
hourglasses, globes, blindfolds and shackles.

Even if you called them back, there are no places left
for them to go, no Garden of Mirth or Bower of Bliss.
The Valley of Forgiveness is lined with condominiums
and chain saws are howling in the Forest of Despair.

Here on the table near the window is a vase of peonies
and next to it black binoculars and a money clip,
exactly the kind of thing we now prefer,
objects that sit quietly on a line in lower case,

themselves and nothing more, a wheelbarrow,
an empty mailbox, a razor blade resting in a glass ashtray.
As for the others, the great ideas on horseback
and the long-haired virtues in embroidered gowns,

it looks as though they have traveled down
that road you see on the final page of storybooks,
the one that winds up a green hillside and disappears
into an unseen valley where everyone must be fast asleep.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Billy Collins and his Moons


Former Poet Laureate of the USA, Billy Collins, has written two different poems about the Moon. As eclipse time is coming up shortly, what better time to include them in a blog?
I love his poems. They are simple and direct, yet quirky enough to retain fascination.
He writes about everyday things to which we can all relate.

Billy Collins was born on 22 March 1941 in New York City. His birthday (not year) is the same as my husband's, who took the photographs included in this post.

Billy Collins' natal Moon could lie in either Capricorn or Aquarius depending on his time of birth. If he was born before 6am the Moon would be in Capricorn. I suspect he was born later, with Moon in Aquarius - just a feeling I get, using my own Aquarian antenna.

He does have quite an Earthy chart, with 5 planets in Earth signs. That didn't surprise me, it matches his down to earth style and choice of subjects. His Mercury and Venus lie in Pisces, I think this softens any inclination to be overly prosaic, and lends a touch of whimsicality to much of his work.

His Aries Sun conjoins the south node of the Moon. There was a lunar eclipse on 13 March and a solar eclipse on 27 March in 1941, so he was born between the two. His work is very popular, even among those people who don't usually like poetry. The Moon is said to represent the public or "common people" in mundane astrology, which might well be significant here.

I'm not confident about interpreting either the Moon's nodes or the effect of eclipses. Astrologers vary in their opinions on these matters, some go way beyond what I'm comfortable with. I'm pretty sure, though, from my own life experience, that the Moon's nodes are sensitive points in the chart, and that the cycle of the nodal axis can mark the turning of chapters in one's life, especially when a planet is conjunct a node natally.
In Billy Collins' case I'd hazard a guess that the Moon, its nodes, their cycles, and perhaps the eclipses have played a significant part in the way his life has unfolded.





Invention

Tonight the moon is a cracker,
with a bite out of it
floating in the night,


and in a week or so
according to the calendar
it will probably look


like a silver football,
and nine, maybe ten days ago
it reminded me of a thin bright claw.


But eventually --
by the end of the month,
I reckon --


it will waste away
to nothing,
nothing but stars in the sky,


and I will have a few nights
to myself,
a little time to rest my jittery pen.





Photograph, of "the silver football" taken by my husband outside Thunderbird Casino, Norman, Oklahoma, after a
concert.
The "cracker with a bite out of it" was taken earlier this week, from our front yard.



The Man in the Moon

He used to frighten me in the nights of childhood,
the wide adult face, enormous, stern, aloft.
I could not imagine such loneliness, such coldness.

But tonight as I drive home over these hilly roads
I see him sinking behind stands of winter trees
and rising again to show his familiar face.

And when he comes into full view over open fields
he looks like a young man who has fallen in love
with the dark earth,

a pale bachelor, well-groomed and full of melancholy,
his round mouth open
as if he had just broken into song.