ALLEN BRAMHALL Reviews
AMIRI BARAKA & EDWARD DORN: THE
COLLECTED LETTERS, Edited by Claudia Moreno Pisano
(University of New Mexico Press,
Albuquerque, 2013)
Dear Ed Dorn
Ed,
Mr. Jones
Dear L.J.
Dear L
Dear LRJ
Roi
Dear Senator
Dear R
Dear Poet
Hi you little shit
Dear western man
Howdy
High
Hot Rod
Dear Sir
Dear Bill
Eddie
Dear Mr. Jones
Sir
Dear Ida
Dear Jones,
Dear Sorehead
Edward
Hombre
Hey, malo hombre
Hi,
My dearest Eddie,
Hey sporty
Edwardian
Dear Funky Louie
Headward
Dear hippie
Hello keed
Deah lee rory**
Edsel
Hey man
The above lists most of the salutations used by Amiri Baraka
(formerly LeRoi Jones) and Edward Dorn to begin their letters to each other.
The list suggests the frisky energy that went into their correspondence. They
were not always intelligible in their letters—certainly not for us peeping at
this archival matter—and they were not always nice, but their letters to each
other crackled with energy.
The two make an interesting pair. Baraka, an urban black
man, and Dorn, a rural white man, converse at a time of sharp racial distinctions.
Tho it was some years before they met face to face, they shared a great many
affiliations. They often mention Charles Olson, Robert Creeley, and others
associated with Black Mountain College. They have a great network.
Baraka enjoyed better connections in the poetry world. He's
in New York City while western man Dorn lives in the hinterlands of New Mexico
and Idaho. As the correspondence progressed, Baraka became more focused in the
Black Power movement, and in the development of art for/of/by blacks. This
caused a sort of centripetal push away from the white literary world.
Dorn provides Baraka with a sensitive sounding board. Dorn's
astute, supportive replies to Baraka's quandary shows political intelligence.
It was a complicated time, the Sixties were. The peaceful protests that Martin
Luther King led dissatisfied the more militant Baraka. Instead, the radical and
combative politics of Malcolm stirred Baraka. Dorn agreed with Baraka's views
of the world but didn't accept the efficacy of violent response. Even so, Dorn
responded to Baraka's anger sensitively and thoughtfully. The two united in the
seriousness of the poetic endeavour.
The stakes differ for writers writing letters rather than
their “real work”. For one thing, formality of any sort is not required. With
this correspondence between two largish figures of Twentieth Century poetry, we
have a lively interchange concerning writing, politics, and just getting by.
This collection covers a yeasty period that included the
Cold War, ascendancy of the Beats, the Cuban revolution, Black Power,
intensifying dismay in South East Asia, assassinations here and there (Malcolm
X, JFK). Baraka most clearly shows the political change. He goes to Cuba in
support of the revolution during this exchange, and vociferously questions his
place in white society.
The title says collected letters but the book covers
only 1959-1964. They continued writing to each other till Dorn's death in 1999,
but those letters have not surfaced except for a few short ones that Pisano includes
in this book. Indeed, Baraka's letters dominate a long stretch near the end
where only his side of the conversation survived. Serial narrative (such as it
is, anyway) is not the lamplight here.
Pisano supplies context to the letters, a necessity for
grasping the particular intrigues mentioned by these two poets. Along with
footnotes, she includes narrative interludes that help clarify whence the poets
speak. That whence is pretty important, because both Baraka and Dorn
were part of a pull from the institutional academic drag. Think Olson's
Curriculum that he prepared for Dorn.
The book also includes a foreword by Ammiel Alcalay, preface
by Amiri Baraka, and an introduction by the editor herself. Back matter
includes a list of selected works by Baraka and Dorn, an extensive
bibliography, and an index. In between all that, we have high and low humour,
archness, vitriol, keen insight, gripes, and other all too human expressions.
Both write in a flippant, often sardonic style. Baraka is particularly wild,
combining erudition with almost slapstick humour. Tho shy of 200 pages worth of
letters here, this book offers plenty to set your bug flying.
It gets ugly at times. The cattiness towards other writers
can be fun if often mean-spirited, but the casual and not so casual
anti-Semitism and homophobia are not. In fact, these are serious issues with
Baraka, He seems to respect many gay writers and artists but never gets far
from the fairy-fag distillate. What's his real agitation here? Baraka also
reveals a stiff misogynistic streak. Deplore what we must, but look for the
light as well.
The correspondence begins with Baraka requesting poems from
Dorn for Baraka's magazine Yugen. It
is like wellmet at a party: they hit it off. Thru out the exchange they send
each other's work to friends, editors, and influential contacts. They had to
hustle. You could make a buck if not a living writing poetry back in the 60s.
Just that, I think, created a sense of undertaking that may no longer obtain
now. Which takes nothing from the seriousness of today's poets, they/we just
direct towards a different necessity.
The whole sweat of how these two writers might get money
plays on just about every page. Poets were paid for their poetry and for their
readings (how quaint!). They just weren't paid enough. Both taught, but not
lucratively. Baraka has success writing plays, and in writing two books and
numerous reviews and articles about blues and jazz. It's all tooth and nail to
get by for both of them.
These are poets who are not just delighting in the flourish
of springtime flowers. Their political interest is keen. Baraka shows the
greatest strain, eventually quitting his family and home and moving to Harlem
after the murder of Malcolm X. Dorn, less militant, saw the ecological disaster
occurring, and the fearsome turbine of commercial interest chewing the country
and the world. They didn't always agree but a supportive understanding of the
other's views always pertained.
One can feel some envy in reading this correspondence. The
connection between the two is rock solid. They write of the latest jazz
recordings they've been listening to, ask for news of friends like Olson,
Ginsberg, and Creeley, share personal and family news. Baraka even hangs out
with John Coltrane, Thelonious Monk, and a gosh-darn litany of jazz greats. He
also suffers a bad stretch, having contracted hepatitis from using dirty
needles.
In reading this book, I am reminded just how dynamic letter
writing can be. Corresponding seems different now. It's hard not to feel rushed
when writing an email. Facebook isn't built for depth. Don't get me started on
Twitter, which just seems like a testing ground for snarkiness. Of course
writers are communicating with each other now, it's just feels different.
Stuffing letters into envelopes and then waiting: there's something beguiling
in that. The stretch of time between sent and received adds a weight that our
current immediacy abides with difficulty.
Baraka and Dorn needed the letters they wrote to each other.
The letters were lifelines. For all the fizzle, gripes, and sneers, this books
reveals two deep and generous natures. And their energy is sublime.
*****
Re. Allen Bramhall: A diminishing flow of poems, a continuing insistence in watching superhero movies with my son, an increasing interest in the healing, lifebound elation of creativity, and some websites:
Generally cheerful.
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