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Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained | |||
James Schuyler’s poem "The Village" presents a conversational and introspective exploration of the poet’s feelings toward Greenwich Village and the broader literary world. The poem opens with a striking confession: "I hate Greenwich Village," immediately establishing a tone of personal discontent and disconnection. Schuyler’s invocation of Vachel Lindsay, a poet known for his passionate and populist style, adds a layer of irony and cultural reference, as he questions the animosity that might exist between Lindsay and another prominent poet, Allen Ginsberg. The poem's structure is free-form, mirroring a casual, almost letter-like dialogue with Ginsberg, a figure Schuyler clearly admires but also scrutinizes. The direct address to Ginsberg—"Dear Allen"—creates an intimate atmosphere, as if the reader is privy to a private conversation between two poets. Schuyler’s admiration for Ginsberg is sincere, yet he admits to being puzzled by some of Ginsberg's ideas, such as the notion of the poet as a "priest." This religious metaphor, often associated with the sanctity and seriousness of poetry, seems to bemuse Schuyler, who prefers a more playful and less dogmatic approach to art. Schuyler’s reference to "binding with briars" likely alludes to William Blake’s famous line "binding with briars my joys & desires" from "Songs of Experience", further deepening the poem's engagement with the literary tradition. Yet, even as he acknowledges these influences, Schuyler distances himself from any pretense of literary grandeur, suggesting a preference for spontaneity and simplicity over solemnity. The poem takes a turn into the visual arts with Schuyler’s musings on Balthus, a painter known for his enigmatic and often controversial work. The line, "Now you will think I don’t like Balthus," reveals Schuyler's playful self-awareness, anticipating misinterpretation and resisting easy categorization. His mention of "Blue Poles," a famous painting by Jackson Pollock, further underscores Schuyler’s engagement with modernist aesthetics, but he approaches these works with a lightheartedness that contrasts with their often heavy interpretations. Schuyler imagines interacting with these works in a tactile, almost childlike way, suggesting a desire to experience art more viscerally and less intellectually. The poem's narrative continues to weave between literary and personal reflections, including a whimsical digression into the life of Anna de Noailles, a French poetess known for her lyrical and floral imagery. Schuyler imagines her as someone whose poetry might not be "good" by conventional standards, but who nevertheless embodies a certain romantic ideal—an ideal that Schuyler both mocks and admires. This ambivalence towards high art and literary tradition is a recurring theme in Schuyler’s work, where he often blends sincerity with irony, and admiration with critique. As the poem closes, Schuyler returns to his initial aversion to Greenwich Village, now intertwined with his complex feelings towards Ginsberg. The final lines, "I hate the Village and like you / and what you said to me once / at the San Remo may it burn to the ground / and— / honest injun— / poets are people," encapsulate the tension between personal affection and artistic rivalry. The mention of the San Remo, a famous Village hangout for artists and writers, symbolizes the epicenter of the literary scene that Schuyler both inhabits and resents. In the end, Schuyler’s declaration that "poets are people" strips away the mystique surrounding the literary world, grounding it in everyday human experience. This sentiment is both a critique of the pretensions often associated with the artistic community and a reaffirmation of the personal connections that sustain it. Schuyler’s poem is a nuanced reflection on the contradictions inherent in being part of a creative milieu, where admiration, rivalry, and self-doubt coexist in a delicate balance.
| Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INDIAN APRIL by MEENA ALEXANDER WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN'D ASTRONOMER...' by ROBERT CREELEY ALLEN GINSBERG by TOI DERRICOTTE ALLEN GINSBERG DYING by LAWRENCE FERLINGHETTI A HUNDRED MULE DEER IN THE BACK YARD; I.M. ALLEN GINSBERG by ANSELM HOLLO ONE INCH OF LOVE IS AN INCH OF ASHES by ANNE WALDMAN ELEGY FOR ALLEN by ALICIA SUSKIN OSTRIKER UPON THE DEATH OF ALLEN GINSBERG by DONALD REVELL |
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