Saturday, July 31, 2021

PRATIK LA ISSUE SPECIAL HIGHLIGHT : Former Poet Laureate of California DANA GIOIA on Los Angeles

DANA GIOIA

Los Angeles

as a Cultural Home



I have spent exactly two thirds of my life in California and the rest of it elsewhere—in New York, Washington, Boston, Rome, and Vienna. I was born and raised in California, specifically in southwest Los Angeles in the town of Hawthorne. For many years I have divided my time between rural northern California and Los Angeles where I teach each fall semester at the University of Southern California.

Despite the problems and expense of living in the Golden State, I can’t imagine any circumstances that would make me leave. Even when I lived elsewhere, I constantly visited L.A. So in one way or another I have been around since Christmas Eve, 1950 when I arrived four weeks early to ruin my parent’s holiday plans. I speak, therefore, as a native son and cultural product of a city whose only cultural advantage, according to Woody Allen, “is being able to make a right turn on a red light.”

Such abuse bothers me not at all. I am used to it. Wherever I’ve gone over the years, I’ve always identified myself as a Californian and an Angeleno, which I assure you is an excellent conversation opener in artistic and intellectual circles. Everyone has an opinion about L.A., especially in New York City and Cambridge, Massachusetts. If you ask people about Moscow or Beijing, London or Toronto, you will probably get a brief and perfunctory response. But everybody’s opinion of L.A. is detailed and emphatic. Significantly, one encounters such responses even in foreign countries, because the world has been saturated with images of L.A. from TV and movies. The City of the Angels has been—for almost a century now—a cultural symbol.

If I were to summarize the thousands of opinions I’ve heard over the years, I could say they fall mostly into five predictable categories. (The quotations are my own paraphrases unless otherwise noted.)

1. Los Angeles isn’t really a city, just sprawling suburbs connected by freeways. You know the clichés. “It has no downtown.” “It has no character.” “There’s no ‘there there.’” “The town is inconceivably shoddy,” harrumphed H. L. Mencken, “nineteen suburbs in search of a metropolis.”

2. Los Angeles is a city of transients. “No one was born here.” “People come to L.A. to pursue their dreams.” “No one feels a sense of belonging.” “Everything is new, and nothing is built to last.” “There is no local character except delusional expectations of sunshine, wealth, and stardom.” In the words of a Bertolt Brecht poem that his fellow German exile Hanns Eisler set to music, “Paradise and hell can be the same city.”

3. Los Angeles is shallow and inauthentic. “All surface, no depth.” “Surfers and starlets gliding over the surface of life.” “Like a Hollywood set, a bright facade, with nothing behind the surface.”  “The two symbols of L.A. are Disneyland and Hollywood.” As the radio comedian Fred Allen said about Southern California, “It’s a great place to live—if you’re an orange.”

4. Los Angeles is the center of bland, suburban, consumerist culture. “The worst of materialism combined with credulous faddism.” “It lacks the depth of older cities and deeper culture or tradition.” “What passes for culture is driven by food and novelty—yoga, transcendental meditation, vegetarianism.” As a forgotten journalist of the 1930s described the City of Angels—“that big, sprawling, incoherent, shapeless, slobbering civic idiot in the family of American communities.”

5. Los Angeles has no artistic culture except showbiz, no intellectual life. “No art, only entertainment as a commodity.”  “Commercial Hollywood has devoured all the other arts.” “It is the land of make-believe.” “Everything is surface and show.” As F. Scott Fitzgerald said about Hollywood, “It’s a mining town in lotus land.”

I will address these points later, but first let me share a bit of my background because understanding any place depends on your perspective. Are you looking at it from the inside or the outside? Do you perceive it as home or a stopover?

For Full Story Read Summer/Fall 2021 Issue of Pratik (Links below)


Dana Gioia is a poet and critic. He is the author of five collections of poetry, including Interrogations at Noon (2001), which received the American Book Award, and 99 Poems: New & Selected (2016), which won the Poets’ Prize. His critical collections include Can Poetry Matter? (1992) was a finalist for the National Book Critics Award. He has written four opera libretti and edited twenty literary anthologies. Gioia is the former Poet Laureate of California. He also served as Chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts from 2003 to 2009. Gioia is the Judge Widney Professor of Poetry and Public Culture at the University of Southern California. He divides his time between Los Angeles and Sonoma County, California.




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Friday, July 30, 2021

PRATIK SPRING 2021 ISSUE HIGHLIGHT: SLOVENIAN POET BARBARA KORUN'S POEM, "HENRY MASSON"

 

BARBARA KORUN

HENRY MASSON,

46, a French black worker, lost his hand at work and was given the hand of a German student who had died in a car accident.

 


Marseille, late 20th century

 

I have the hand of God, God’s hand.

So beautiful it makes me cry.

And I can move it, I, I move it. See?

Thumb, forefinger, little finger…

The finger of God moves by my will.

How is it written?

Whoever is touched by the finger of God…

I am God’s finger.

Whomever I touch awakens.

Or dies, unless already dead.

My arm is black,

but my fingers are white, soft, thin.

Who would have thought God a German?

 

Nothing is the same.

Whatever I touch becomes light.

I create out of nothing, destroy into nothing.

When I sleep my hand glows in the dark,

on my chest.

 

Translated from the Slovene by Barbara Siegl Carlson

 

Barbara Korun’s first collection Ostrina miline (The Edge of Grace) received the National Book Fair Award for a debut collection. For her fourth book Pridem takoj (I’ll be right back) she received the Veronika Award, and Golden Bird Award. Together with jazz composer and percussionist Zlatko Kaučič she recorded a CD Vibrato tišine (Vibrato of Silence, 2006) with poems of Srečko Kosovel, Slovene avant-garde poet. She organizes readings of Slovene women poets and is active in volunteering at the asylum for refugees. She received two international awards for poetry in Italy. Vmes (In between, 2016) is her sixth collection of poems.








Pratik Spring 2021 Issue


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Thursday, July 29, 2021

Pratik Special LA Issue Highlight: Kim Dower's "Letter to My Son"


KIM DOWER

Letter to My Son



Dementia runs in the family, so if I can’t think of a name or a place, a moment everyone else can vividly recall, I feel afraid. Useless. Ashamed.  You see, I don’t want anyone to carry me into another room so I can get a view of a tree or remind me what a tree is or tell me what I’m sipping from is called a straw.  I’ve seen it all before. My grandfather didn’t know he was eating a banana – only that someone had to peel it for him, and that thing, that peel had to be thrown away. I’m not saying it’s certain I will have dementia, but if I do, please know this: I won’t be mad if you don’t take care of me. I won’t even know that you’re not. Tell me everything’s okay, and I will believe you. Tell me there’s a bird on a branch outside my window, even if there is no window, and I will imagine he’s singing to me. Once when a storm was coming my mother looked up at the sky, told me God was punching the clouds to make rain pour out. She never even believed in God. The point is this: I may not know exactly who you are when you come to visit. I may be confused. But when I hold your hand it will all come back in waves: rocking you in my arms when you were a baby,  your little seltzer voice, my heart flooding my body with joy every morning you jumped in my bed. I will not be angry like some people with dementia can get. I’ve never been good at angry. I will not peel the yellow paper off the wall or bite my caregiver. Play a few rounds of Blackjack with me. You deal. I will smile each time I get a picture card. Tell me I’ve hit twenty-one even if I bust. Use real chips, have party drinks with ice that clinks, a cocktail napkin with which to dab my lips.


Kim Dower has published four highly-acclaimed collections of poetry all from Red Hen Press: Air Kissing on Mars, Slice of Moon, Last Train to the Missing Planet, and Sunbathing on Tyrone Power’s Grave. Widely anthologized and nominated for four Pushcarts, Kim Dower was City Poet Laureate of West Hollywood, from October 2016 to October 2018.

 


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Wednesday, July 28, 2021

PRATIK POETRY SPECIAL : GUEST EDITOR TONY BARNSTONE POEM IN THE SPECIAL LA ISSUE RELEASED YESTERDAY

 

TONY BARNSTONE

A California Couple

 


She has bags of peaches, yellow, unbruised.

As he comes up behind I look away,

don’t say hi as they pass. I can’t get used

to the ripe crushed fruit of her face,

and wonder who singed her lip

into a sneer of scar tissue,

who put that red hand on her cheek

and caged her up with Mike,

who’s just as fast to slap her in the face

as pat her ass when he goes out. 

As they step into the rooming house

I see him pet her head, give it a little shove.

 

The next morning, I jump when something

is thrown against the wall so hard

the ceiling cracks and a wisp of plaster drops. 

In my room, next life over,

I am judging the relative weights

of a woman’s body and a toaster oven

and wondering if I should call the cops

from the payphone at the Shell station on the corner.

I wonder if she hates me for what I hear. 

I grab the paper, fix my breakfast. 

Eggs are fat eyes that won’t stop watching me.

I stab one with a fork

and watch it bleed into the toast.



Tony Barnstone is Professor of English and Environmental Studies at Whittier College and has published 21 books and a music CD. His poetry books include Pulp Sonnets; Beast in the Apartment; Tongue of War: From Pearl Harbor to Nagasaki; The Golem of Los Angeles; Sad Jazz; and Impure. Among his awards: The Poets Prize, Grand Prize of the Strokestown International Poetry Contest, Pushcart Prize, John Ciardi Prize, Benjamin Saltman Award, and fellowships from the NEA, the NEH, and the California Arts Council. In November he will publish a co-translation of the Urdu poet Ghalib (White Pine Press), and a creativity tool, The Radiant Tarot: Pathway to Creativity (Wiser Press). 




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Tuesday, July 27, 2021

Pratik : The Ghosts of Paradise – Special Los Angeles SUMMR/FALL 2021 Double Issue

 

Vol. XVII No. 2-3, 2021 Issue, ISSN 2615-998

 

Editor: Yuyutsu Sharma  Guest Editor : Tony Barnstone


 

EIGHTY EIGHT POETS FROM LOS ANGELES

Alexis Rhone Fancher  Alice Pero   Alicia Vogl Saenz   Ambika Talwar   Amin Esmaielpour   Amy Uyematsu   André Naffis-Sahely   Ariel Horton   Arthur Vogelsang   Bilal Shaw   Bill Mohr   Blas Falconer   Brenda Yates   Brendan Constantine   Caley O’Dwyer   Carine Topal   Carol Muske-Dukes  Carol V. Davis   Cathy Colman   Cati Porter   Cece Peri   Cecilia Woloch    Charles Harper Webb   Charlotte Davidson   Charlotte Innes    Deena Metzger   Dennis McGonagle   Dorothy Barresi   Douglas Manuel   Elizabeth Iannaci   Elline Lipkin   Elena Karina Byrne    Frank X. Gaspar   Gail Wronsky   Genevieve Kaplan   Grant Hier   Gregory Brooker   Hélène Cardona   Ian Randall Wilson   James Ragan   Jeanette Clough Jerry Garcia   Jim Natal   John Menaghan   John Brantingham   John Fitzgerald   Judith Pacht   Judy Kronenfeld   Karen Kevorkian   Kate Gale    Kevin Durkin   Kim Dower   Laurel Ann Bogen   Lavina Blossom   Leilani Hall   Leslie Monsour   Lois P. Jones   Lory Bedikian   Luis J. Rodriguez   Lynne Thompson   Mariano Zaro   Marjorie Becker   Mark Irwin   Marsha de la O   Martha Ronk   Mary Fitzpatrick   Maurya Simon   Melissa Kerry   Micah Chatterton   Michael C. Ford   Michelle Bitting   Mike Sonksen Patty Seyburn   Ralph Angel   Ramón García   Rick Bursky   Ron Koertge   Sarah Maclay Scott Noon Creley   Shannon Phillips   Sherman Pearl   Sholeh Wolpé   Stephanie Brown   Susan McCabe   Suzanne Lummis   Terry Wolverton   Timothy Steele   Tony Barnstone   Vandana Khanna   William Archila   Yvonne M. Estrada   Zaria Branch

 

ESSAYS

Dana Gioia : Los Angeles as a Cultural Home

Tom Lutz Coming to LA: Images of the Migrant City 

with an assist by Juan Felipe Herrera

Elena Karina Byrne : HOME, HOME, HOME

Elizabeth Iannaci : Angelenos Keep Watching the Detective

 

ART BY

Alexandra Eldridge, Amin Mansouri, Caley O’Dwyer, David Sloan



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Saturday, July 24, 2021

Highlights of Pratik's Spring 2021, XV1 No 1

 

Pratik : Spring 2021, XV1 No 1,

Edited by Yuyutsu Sharma

Baudelaire 200 Years!

Ten Poets celebrate the Birth Anniversary of the French Poet

Stéphane Mallarmé  R J Dent  Linda Morales Caballero  Fred Johnston José Manuel Cardona Nina Kossman Peter O’Neill  Hélène Cardona Yan Kouton John Fitzgerald Daniel Wade

Thirteen Slovenian Poets

Milan Dekleva Maja Vidmar Barbara Korun  Veronika Dintinjana Uroš Zupan

Boris A. Novak  Brane Mozetič Jure Jakob  Miklavž Komelj  Milan Jesih

Primož Čučnik  Peter Semolič  Kristian Kožel

 

Slovenian novelist, Evald Flisar on  

Art of Fiction

Eleven German Poets

Reiner Kunze  Helga M. Novak  Karl Greisinger  Margaret Saine  Barbara Koehler  Axel Görlach Abdulkadir Musa  Silke Scheuermann  Thilo  Krause   Nadja Küchenmeister   Ulrike Almut Sandig

Twelve Hebrew Poets

Hedva Harechavi Mordechai Geldman Ronny Someck Admiel Kosman Yael Globerman Gilad Meiri Tal Nitzan Eli Eliahu Anat Zecharia Roy Chicky Arad Noam Partom Noa Shakargy

An Excerpt from Ravi Shankar’s Upcoming Memoir, Correctional

Featuring

Fiona Sampson, Emer Davis & Ira Marušič

 

BOOK TALK :ROBERT SCOTTO : What I Wrote After I Didn’t Have To Write For A Living

BOOK REVIEWS  : Yuyutsu Sharma on The Light We Cannot See by Anne Casey, Svetlana Lavochkina on Come Down: Poems by Fiona Sampson, Santhosh Babu on One Love, And The Many Lives Of Osip B : A Novel by C. P. Surendran,  & Susan Connolly on Postcards From India by Emer Davis 

Plus all Regular Columns


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Friday, July 23, 2021

PRATIK UPCOMING ISSUE HIGHLIGHT : Stéphane Mallarmé's homage to Charles Baudelaire

BAUDELAIRE 'S 200TH BIRTH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL

 



Stéphane Mallarmé

Charles Baudelaire’s Tomb

 

The immortal Anubis appears abominable

from the mausoleum that resembles a sewer

with drooling mouth of mud blazing in rubies,

 

the harsh barking—

and the gas jet twists out of the wick

as if wiping away insults and sufferings

 

The illumination transforms into a dancing torso—

naked female who merges with Baudelaire’s statue in the city

nothing sacred in this, except that he is the tutor

 

if absent, and then in another transformation

they are entwined

exuding a ghostly, obviously deathly poison.

 

Translated from the French by Kevin Kiely


 Stéphane Mallarmé


Kevin Kiely has published over a dozen books including Quintesse (St Martin’s Press, NY), Breakfast with Sylvia (Lagan Press, awarded Patrick Kavanagh Fellowship in Poetry) and  Plainchant for a Sundering (Lapwing Press). More : www.kevinkiely.net 

 


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Friday, July 16, 2021

UPCOMING PRATIK ISSUE HIGHLIGHT: Santhosh Babu reviews Indian poet and novelist C. P. Surendran's novel, "One Love, and the Many Lives of Osip B"


The sun burns,

no matter what you think

 


One Love, And The Many Lives of Osip B is about 18-year-old Osip Bala Krishnan, so named after the Russian poet Osip Mandelstam — who was exiled by Stalin twice to Siberia and who died of starvation during his second exile in 1938—and his transgressive love affair with his English teach teacher, Elizabeth Hill, a British citizen. The novel begins with Elizabeth dramatically missing: ‘Weeks after she went missing, Elizabeth Hill called and said I had no future with her. I was out among the climbing woods at the back of the school, leaning on a rock and watching a pig-shaped cloud spill its guts.’

Osip B’s search for Elizabeth takes him to Oxford. The journey covers the growth of Osip B as a character. In the process of mapping the difficult relationship between two individuals conflicted by age difference, race, language and culture, the novelist brings to life the fraught contemporary themes that keep our society on boil. These themes, group identity versus individual rights, gender rights, Indian patriotism, and a kind of blind and buff liberalism work their way in and out of the situations that the characters both find themselves through their actions and accidents.

Can an understanding of the deeply interconnected nature of the existence of modern society, a complex recognition of the pervasive play of our repressions and dysfunctionalities help set us free? This is an important question in the sense that modern communication technologies and new social media platforms  have irrevocably enmeshed the individual with the group. Osip B, like his mentor friend Arjun Bedi (an iconoclast writer breaking down under sexual harassment charges), are, on the face of it,  aberrant individuals. Their equations with society and its norms are in a state of flux. The result is that they would have to pay heavily.

 The novel also focuses on fatalistic existential themes. We know only too well that the universe is indifferent to the search of meaning so peculiar to the human enterprise.  The sun burns no matter what you think. Nevertheless, we must exercise our choices. But does that compulsion render us in the end unhappy? Because, no course of action in modern society is independent of repercussions. Are we therefore fated to be unhappy, never getting fully what we  desired? Or because we finally got what we desired but it did not turn out to be what we expected? As happens in Osip B’s quest for Elizabeth. One Love, And The Many Lives Of Osip B, raises these questions with a sense of urgent engagement, carrying the reader in the flow and movement of the narrative.

The language here is loaded with imagery and references. Consider a short, random sentence that occurs in the very first pages: ‘Often one’s name is one’s fate.’ That Osip B is named after Mandelstam is partly responsible for the unravelling of the plot. Osip B’s grandfather, Mr Niranjan Menon, has a Stalinist past of political violence and the blood of  many murders on his hands. That he  finds a kind of expiation in christening the adopted child Osip sets the stage of the one of the central conflicts of the novel: that the victim and the victor, right there at home itself; the rest of the world is after all an extension of that domestic stage.

Osip’s  struggles to cope up with the world is offset by his friend and roommate at the school-hostel in Kasauli, Anand, who beautifully aligns his insecurities to the collective insecurities of society. But that is only one way of looking at his success. Deep in his heart Anand—a quick study who trains himself to be a yoga guru, much in the mould of some of the leading icons of our times, but perhaps even more dangerous because he is so young— knows everything is a game, and he is conscious he is persuading himself that material success is the only kind of trophy worth fighting for. He achieves this by feeding his insecurities ( he is an orphan)  into the insecurities of a larger group. Anand knows a group coheres thanks to its insecurities and the collective faith in protective bubbles. Osip B, on the other hand is looking for a deeper integration of his fragmented self.

In the background, there is the larger than life-shadow of narcissism, the insecure authoritarian leader and the society, ready to destroy  all that it needs to destroy to feel safe, even if that feeling of safety might be momentary. By drawing parallels from the mid 20th-century Russia, Surendran is able to dramatically show up the fault lines of contemporary Indian politics and how a stray incident, seemingly one of the minor fault lines,  involving a Right wing Uber driver and Elizabeth, slowly spread and crack the whole edifice of the fictional reality of the protagonists, Osip and Elizabeth. The political in this sense turns personal.

Seemingly scattered characters from different walks of life and age group are interconnected strongly. There is a program at work in the  novel. The interconnections of characters and themes mesh and grind toward a conclusion that seems as much as natural as it is inevitable.


But through it all Osip’s alienation develops into a full fledged flip: “‘I suffer from an inability to see things for what they are,’ Osip had once said to Elizabeth. He had come over to her quarters. They had ended up in bed, and afterwards, lay without touching each other, a little estranged, as if all of it had happened to another couple who lived inside a mirror in the far side of a room.’

Eric Fromm, a German-born American psychoanalyst and social philosopher popularized that term for us. According to Fromm, alienation is very widespread, even endemic. Man is said to be alienated from others, from nature, from society and culture, and, perhaps most significantly, from himself. It is possible that social media on which we find ourselves round the clock, instead of helping us integrate and feel belong, is actually isolationist, as the disappointment at the lack of ‘likes’ and the prolific nature of vituperative comments show.  The bubble that Mr Menon and his ward, Osip B, develop around themselves, we are shown, is a kind of mental disorder between them. But outside, in the wide world, various versions of that disorder governs our lives, Surendran shows.

One of the characters, Alok Jain, a media baron for whom Osip B ends up working, reminds us of the stories we might have casually heard about the power and authority that money could have in contemporary India. Osip B’s insight that Stalinism is at work even in the fictional reality of his newsroom, that Mr Jain is capable of extreme and arbitrary cruelty (the baron stares a journalist with a heart complaint to death) and can ‘create’ truth or history is a devastating comment on the helplessness of the individual to give shape to his own life.

The novel unveils itself through conversations between characters, and these conversations have the concentrated depth of philosophy and seductive touch of poetry. The creative and dynamic use of the dialogue keeps the plot moving and at the same time makes the characters colorful: ‘Maybe you are not fit for the world, which you may think in your vanity as yours, Mr (Arjun) Bedi. The new world does not want to read you. We will make sure of that,’ Dev said. Dev and his partner, Diya, are at the forefront of people who are fighting this war against the sexiest writings and the being of Arjun Bedi. Both Dev and Diya are cameo characters. But in a few bits of conversations, they assume mythical proportions and offer a commentary both for and against the idea of media trial, where the law has little impact.

Elizabeth, a free and complex person representing the new individualistic woman, indulges in her attraction and love for her younger lover, Osip and her much older lover, Kris. That her lovers are at two ends of the spectrum materially, age wise, and geographically ( Kris is in Oxford) and the fact that her relationships are conditional on her freedom, in the end, do not contribute to her condemnation as one might expect initially. Elizabeth comes off as a brave and honest person. Her words, ‘…it takes everything to have a bit of freedom,’ define her cold attractiveness and a rare honesty of purpose.

The plot is gripping, revelatory, and alternatively funny and sad. This is not a novel that gives us answers, but one that raises painful questions that we have allowed to be subsumed under the first level of our awareness,   so that we could comfortably continue our sleepwalk like existence. In the final count, One Love is a compassionate yet confrontationist drama.  It helps us to hold ourselves accountable. 

One Love, and the Many Lives of Osip B : A Novel by C. P. Surendran, Niyogi Books, New Delhi, 2021 pp.372 Paper Rs. 695








Santhosh Babu is a public intellectual on Leadership and Organizational change and founder of ODA (www.odalternatives.com and OrgLens (www.orglens.com). He is also a Wiley Author and has done guest classes in The University of Chicago, ISB (Indian School of Business) and TISS ( Tata Institute of Social Sciences).


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