Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Bill Zavatsky’s "The Fee" is a sharp, satirical critique of the commodification of art and the exploitation of writers, using the absurdity of a fictional permissions request to highlight how institutions profit off creative work while offering little to the artists themselves. The poem is structured as a formal letter—one that mimics the bureaucratic language of academic and corporate publishing—yet its dry, matter-of-fact tone belies the deeply ironic and exploitative nature of the request. The poem plays on the disparity between institutional wealth and the precarious status of poets, revealing the systemic devaluation of artistic labor.

The poem begins with a direct, impersonal salutation: “Dear Author:” The lack of personalization immediately sets the tone—this is a mass-produced letter, indifferent to the individuality of the recipient. The request itself follows with an air of grandiosity: “We are preparing the definitive, illustrated catalogue of our international exhibition, ‘Urns Around the World’ for publication.” The phrase definitive, illustrated catalogue suggests prestige, authority, and permanence, yet the subject—Urns Around the World—seems almost comically niche, especially when juxtaposed with what follows.

The institutions involved in the project are listed in an overwhelming, almost comically excessive string: “The State Education Department of New York, The University of the State of New York at Albany, Time/Life Books and their subsidiaries, the Smithsonian Institution, and the licensees of the foregoing.” This lengthy enumeration serves a dual purpose: it lends an air of credibility and importance to the project while simultaneously revealing the sheer weight of institutional power involved. The fact that so many well-funded organizations are participating in the project makes what follows even more egregious.

The real crux of the poem’s irony arrives with the request itself: “May we… have permission to use your poem, ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn,’ throughout the world in all editions of our catalogue and in any material based on it for all printings of all editions?” The humor here lies in the fact that "Ode on a Grecian Urn” is, of course, John Keats’ famous Romantic poem, written in 1819. This absurdity serves two functions: first, it highlights how blindly bureaucratic these requests are—so detached from actual artistic engagement that they would mistakenly ask a living author for permission to use a poem written over 150 years ago. Second, and more importantly, it underscores how institutions claim ownership over culture while disregarding the voices of those who create it.

The next section outlines the sheer scale of the publication: “The press run of our catalogue is 150,000 copies in cloth and 300,000 copies in paperback.” The specificity of these figures reinforces the commercial nature of the enterprise—this is not a small academic endeavor, but a mass-market project. The inclusion of details such as “200 full-color plates” and “printed on 90 lb. glossy stock” further emphasizes the high production value of the book, making the following admission all the more ridiculous.

Then comes the core of the poem’s satire: “Due to the fact that so many authors will be represented in the catalogue, we cannot offer remuneration.” This sentence encapsulates the absurd exploitation at play—despite the catalogue’s massive commercial reach, its contributors will not be paid. The justification is both patronizing and absurd: because there are so many authors involved, none can be paid. The logic, of course, is deeply flawed—if anything, a project of this scale and profitability should be more than capable of compensating its contributors. The institutions involved are evidently benefiting, as are the publishers and printers, yet the very creators whose work makes the project possible are expected to contribute for free.

The following offer adds insult to injury: “However, upon publication we will make copies available to authors at a ten percent discount (postage and handling not included).” This detail highlights the ridiculousness of the exchange—rather than being paid, the poet is being given the privilege of purchasing a copy at a slight discount. The fact that postage and handling are still an additional cost only deepens the irony. The poet is not only expected to work for free but is then encouraged to financially support the very project that exploits them.

Finally, the letter offers what is presumably meant to be its compensation: “Of course we will make certain that you receive credit in these publications for the use of your material.” This final note is the ultimate slight—it reduces artistic labor to mere acknowledgment, as if credit alone is sufficient payment for creative work. The phrasing “of course” makes it seem as though this is an act of generosity rather than the absolute bare minimum.

The closing lines—“If you agree to the terms of our contract, please sign below and return this form at your earliest convenience.”—serve as a final jab at the transactional nature of the request. The tone remains formal and businesslike, completely indifferent to the ridiculousness of what is being asked.

At its core, "The Fee" is a scathing critique of the way institutions, particularly those in publishing and academia, profit off artistic labor while refusing to compensate artists themselves. The poem’s humor comes from the exaggeratedly formal tone of the request, juxtaposed with the blatantly exploitative nature of its terms. Zavatsky exposes the hypocrisy of institutions that claim to support the arts while simultaneously devaluing the artists they depend on.

One of the poem’s central ironies is the request for permission to use Keats’ "Ode on a Grecian Urn”, a work firmly in the public domain. This not only highlights the absurdity of bureaucratic processes but also serves as a broader commentary on how institutions commodify culture. Keats, like many poets, struggled financially in his lifetime, and here, even in a fictionalized setting, his work is once again being used without compensation.

Another key theme is the disconnect between prestige and material support. The catalogue is presented as an elite, high-quality publication—yet none of this prestige extends to the actual contributors. The poem draws attention to the way artistic prestige is often used to justify unpaid labor, reinforcing the idea that exposure or recognition is sufficient compensation.

Bill Zavatsky’s "The Fee" is a masterfully satirical takedown of institutional exploitation in the arts. Through its meticulously crafted formal tone, the poem exposes the absurdity of expecting artists to work for free while institutions profit from their labor. The humor and irony are sharp, but beneath them lies a serious critique of the ways in which capitalism and bureaucracy undermine the value of creative work. The poem serves as both a call to awareness and a reminder that, even in death, poets like Keats—and, by extension, all artists—are still being asked to give without receiving.

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