What I've Stolen,
What I've Earned
by Sherman Alexie
Hanging Loose Press
2013 156 pages
ISBN:
978-1934909-32-4
As a break-out short
story writer, then a break-out screenplay writer, then a novelist,
and most recently a National Book Award-winning author of the YA
novel The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, it's
easy to forget that Sherman Alexie started out as, and remains, a
poet, and a good one. Some of his poems have been chosen for the
yearly anthology Best American Poetry, and I would argue that
his success in other genres is because he is a poet, and brings to
them his unique and imaginative language, that above all sounds new
and fresh, and that contains his unique blend of humor, despair,
exaggeration/hyperbole, such as that found in his latest book of
poetry, What I've Stolen What I've Earned, from
Hanging Loose Press.
Because
his poetry has always been so accessible and new-sounding, I had
always thought of him mainly working in free verse, forgetting that
even in his first books he's at least playing with a kind of
formalism, which he continues in this collection, with variations on
his own invention, in what I call the prose poem sonnet, though which
he simply calls sonnets. They are blocks of text in which each
sentence is numbered, up to fourteen of course, though also of course
he even breaks with his own rule on this when the story he's telling
becomes more urgent and a numbered sentence can become a numbered
section of multiple sentences, usually happening after the
traditional 'turn' of a sonnet on the eight line. For example, the
first part of “Sonnet, with Saxaphone”:
1.
This poem doesn't contain a saxophone or any reference to music,
played with or without the saxophone. 2. This poem, though written by
a Native American, will not contain any reference to Native Americans
or, more idiomatically speaking, Indian, or, speaking in slang,
Skins. 3. This poem will not be funny. 4. This poem is very funny. 5.
No, it's not....
He
also sometimes breaks a poem/story into fourteen sections separated
by line breaks, creating more of a collage, like in “Love Sonnet,
Constructed by Wikipedia”:
1.
Love is a universal construct related to affinity.
2.
Affinity, etymologically, is the opposite of infinity.
3.
Love and ego are incompatible....
What's
interesting in any of his sonnet versions is how the effect ends up
being a blend (or maybe the contemporary pop term mash-up is more
appropriate?) of poetry with essay and/or fiction. In fact, many of
the 'poems' in this collection could almost just as easily be labeled
as flash fiction and/or 'mini-essay' pieces now appearing in some
journals. And the question of whether they could be 'stories' (ie
fiction) or 'essays' (ie 'true') is interesting. Poetry, unlike
supposedly prose, has no fiction and non-fiction sub-categories. The
difference here in Alexie's prose pieces seems to be whether the
story that unfolds ends on something in reality (or real, therefore
'true'), or if he goes off into what could be called exaggeration
though is really imaginative, like in “Sonnet, With Bird,” the
best poem in the book, about the death of a friend:
….14. A gathering of quail is called a bevy. A gathering of Indians
is called a tribe. When quails speak, they call it a song. When
Indians sing, the air is heavy with grief. When quails grieve, they
lie down next to their dead. When Indians die, the quail speaks.
Does
that last sentence push what had been factually 'true' into fiction?
Even though it is true? Is it factually true? How can you prove it's
not? Does it depend on who wrote the line? Or who reads it? I don't
know, but it's perfect.
In
addition to form, another formalistic device Alexie works with in
this collection is rhyme, along with a little rhythm. And he's pretty
explicit about why in the 'poem' appearing midway in the collection,
“Phone Calls From Ex-Lovers,” the longest piece in the book,
which, again, if it were crammed into prose would 'pass' as an essay.
Instead, it's mostly free verse in mostly three-line stanzas. And it
mostly is indeed about when he was younger and an ex-lover called
him, but Alexie uses that story as a starting point to talk about
memory, and how or why we remember things. From there, the poem goes
kind of way off track, speaking directly to the reader:
And
yet, there is still something more
To
say about this, and so I irritably
Reach
for that thing, and I want you
To
remember it, to encode it
In
your primate DNA, and in order
For
that to happen, my final message
Needs
to rhyme. Yes, I'm sorry, but
Free
verse isn't designed to be
Memorized.
I mean, Jesus, if you want
Proof,
just turn on the radio, tune
To
a classic rock station, and sing
Along
with every song you know.
Count
those songs. Count the lyrics,
Count
the number of choruses—rhymed,
Of
course—that you have memorized
Without
even trying. If you're a typical
American,
you'll discover that you know
The
lyrics to thousands of songs
And
you know those songs so well
Because
they have, say it, rhythm
And
rhyme. Hell, memory itself
Works
in rhythm and rhyme.
The poem then
switches to prose:
To
prove my point, I offer here a list of “The Top 100 Songs of
1984”....As you read this list, I guarantee that all of you,
between the ages of 35 and 50, will have one specific memory
associated with 93% of these songs.
And
then he actually does just that. The 'poem' contains a list of 100
songs. Which, I sheepishly confess, I mostly all know, and could sing
along with, just as Alexie says. As the 'poem' continues, and it
switches back into free verse, he argues, again I guess, that free
verse just isn't made to be memorized, nor is even this very poem,
which, he claims, I guess seriously, that the poem
(and not he?) “desperately strives to equal Springsteen, / Stevie
Wonder, or Carole King,” and so, he returns, finally,
(anti-climactically) back to the main story “Of Phone Calls From
Ex-Lovers” and ends with a rhyming couplet, which I won't include
here.
As
a whole, the poem isn't successful, not compared to other poems in
the book, but it reveals a lot about Alexie. And it's where I diverge
from him. I feel his frustration that poetry isn't more
well-received, and even his (disguised as his poem's) desire for
recognition/fame. But I just can't take seriously his implication
that Bruce Springsteen's song “Dancing In The Dark” has as much
power as a good poem, and I say that as a poet and musician, a music
lover, and a somewhat fan of Springsteen even. Because pop music
tends to deal simplified versions of good ideas, at best, and
cliches, at worse. And the rhyme almost always is more important than
the ideas expressed. Not to mention that pop music has, well, music
to back it up. A catchy cliché can get a lot of mileage off of a
good beat. Alexie's experiment, rhyming, leaves him with just that:
obvious sounding rhymes, which are all too obvious, for example, in
the next poem in the book (and the worst), “Ode to Coffee”:
In
the coffee shop, the dreadlocked white dude
Orders
a complicated drink.
“Man,
don't be rude
To
that sacred liquid,” I think....
And
so on. Can't be coincidence that Alexie put this rhyming poem right
after his explanation of why he has chosen to experiment with rhyming
poetry. If anything, the explanation/justification makes “Ode to
Coffee” that much more obvious, therefore that much more worse. And
it's not even funny? Even if some readers think so, poetry that
relies on mere cleverness is a step down for Alexie, whose humor
normally, to my mind, transcends to joy. I just don't like seeing
him, seemingly hubristically, sacrificing his great sense of language
for the kind of silly desire to have his poems memorized and somehow
passed on to future generations.
Which
makes me feel totally horrible, since most of the book is great, and
Alexie remains one of my top five favorite contemporary writers. I
said earlier that Alexie's poems 'could' be labeled flash fiction or
creative non-fiction, but they do still feel like poems, though that
may just be context (that is, they're in a book I bought in the
poetry section) and Alexie's intention (that is, putting them in a
book of poetry). Still, some of these pieces would fit fine in one of
his short story collections. Though I say that and immediately think,
well, these might stand out as being a little experimental since,
however vivid and alive his short stories sound, in appearance look
fairly standard.
All
of which is an argument for how good a writer Alexie is, which makes
me wonder why he went with Hanging Loose Press for this book, when I
would think he could get a bigger poetry publisher. In an interview
with Bill Moyers last year, Alexie stated that he likes to help
support indie poetry presses by publishing with them, when, I assume,
he could get a big publisher (of fiction) to put out his books
through a poetry imprint. And that's fine and good, except I wish
someone like Copper Canyon would pick him up, a company that would
put a little bit more care into the design of its books. At first I
thought What I've Stolen What I've Earned
was an old early book of his that I had somehow missed, since it's
design is so basic and bland. People do judge books by their covers,
and this one doesn't do justice to the language inside. Plus I'm not
sure Hanging Loose has the widest distribution range, though I could
be wrong, and I only say that because I just want Alexie's poetry to
be available to as many readers as possible. His is the type of
poetry that appeals to hardcore poetry fans, but could also bridge
over to folks that think they don't like poetry. I guarantee that
anyone who has enjoyed his fiction would also like this book. Imagine
if this book of poetry sold as much as The Absolutely True
Diary of a Part-Time Indian.
Thus, Alexie's perhaps frustration. I feel it, though he's probably
one of the better-selling poets in the country. Which, I know, isn't
saying much. I too want him recognized more widely. Or, that is, he
is widely recognized. His poetry should be too—and poetry in
general should be. But if it is, it's not going to be playing by pop
music's rules. Poetry is never going to 'popular' just by its nature:
it's language, ideas, thinking,
on the edge of Being, forming
it. That Alexie does this in such accessible language makes him one
of the best poets we have.
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