#but also you are NOT supposed to pass judgement so it's like.... this weird limbo of feeling like you SHOULD say something

[inkskinned]

she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let

and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment

and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.

and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment

and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?

to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.

and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.

you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.

[spamzineglasgow]

(REVIEW) All The Poems Contained Within Will Mean Everything To Everyone, by Joe Dunthorne

Is it fiction, is it poetry, is it truth — what are the rules here? Kirsty Dunlop tackles the difficult, yet illustrious art of the poet bio in this review of Joe Dunthorne’s All The Poems Contained Within Will Mean Everything To Everyone (Rough Trade Editions, 2018).

Whenever I read a poetry anthology - I hope I’m not the only one - I go to the bios at the back before I read the poems…it’s also a really strange thing when you publish a poem…you brag about yourself in a text that is supposed to sound distant and academic but is actually you carefully calculating how you’ll present yourself.

> It’s the middle of a night in 2019 and I’m listening to a podcast recording from Rough Trade Editions’ first birthday party at the London Review Bookshop, and this is Dunthorne’s intro to the reading from his pamphlet All The Poems Contained Within Will Mean Everything To Everyone (2018). As I lie there in that strange limbo space of my own insomnia, Dunthorne’s side-note to his work feels comfortingly intimate because it rings so true (the kind of thing you might admit to a friend over a drink after a poetry reading rather than in the performative space of the reading itself). Like Joe, and yes surely many others, I am also fascinated by bios - particularly because I find them so awkward to write/it makes me cringe writing my own/this is definitely the kind of thing you overthink late at night. Bios also function as this alternative narrative on the margins of the central creative work and they do tell a story: take any bio out of context and it can be read as a piece of flash fiction. When we are asked to write bios, there is this unspoken expectation that we follow certain rules in our use of language, tone and content. Side note: how weird would it be if we actually spoke about ourselves in this pompous third person perspective irl?! Bios themselves are limbo spaces (another kind of side note!) where there is much left unsaid and often the unsaid and the little that is said reveals a lot. Of course, some bios are also very, very long. Dunthorne’s pamphlet plays with this limbo space as a site of narrative and poetic potential: prior to All The Poems, I had never read a short story actually written through the framework of a list of poet bios. The result is an incredibly funny, honest and playful piece of meta poetic prose that teases out all the subtle aspects of the poet bio-sphere and ever since that first listen, I can’t stop myself re-reading.

> This work is an exciting example of how formal constraints in writing can actually create an exhilarating sense of narrative liberation. I see this really playful, fluid Oulipo quality to the writing, where the process of using the bio as constraint is what makes the rollercoaster reading experience so satisfying as well as revealing a theatrical stage for language to have its fun, where the reality of our own calculated self performance can be teased out bio by bio. The re-reading opens up a new level of comedy each time often at the level of wordplay. I’ll maybe reveal some more of that in a wee bit.

> It’s a winding road that Dunthorne takes us on in his narrative journey where the micro and the macro continually fall inside each other. So perhaps this review will also be quite winding. Here is another entry into the text: we begin reading about the protagonist Adam Lorral from the opening sentence, who we realise fairly quickly is struggling to put together a ground-breaking landmark poetry anthology. His bio crops up repeatedly in varying forms:

‘Adam Lorral, born 1985 is a playwright, translator and the editor-publisher of this anthology.’

‘Adam Lorral is a playwright, translator and the man who, morning after morning, stood barefoot on his front doorstep […]’

‘Adam Lorral is a playwright, translator and someone for whom the date Monday, October 14th, 2017 has enormous meaning. Firstly Adam’s son started smiling.’

The driving circularity of this repetition pushes the narrative onwards, whilst the language is never bogged down: it hopscotches along and we can’t help but join in the game. Amidst a growing list of other characters/poets- that Adam may or may not include in this collection he seems to be pouring/ draining his energy into, with just a little help from his wife’s family money- tension begins to build.  

> Although Adam is overtly the protagonist in the story, to my mind it is, in fact, Adam’s four-week-old son who is the real heroic figure. Of course this baby doesn’t have a bio of his own but he does continually creep into Adam’s (he’s another side note!). He comes off as the only genuine character: there is no performance, no judgement, he just is. Adam is continually amazed by his son’s mental and physical development which is far more impressive than the growth of this questionable anthology. The baby is this god-like figure, continually present during Adam’s struggles, with the seemingly small moments of its development taking on monumental significance. Adam might try to immerse himself fully in this creative work but the reality of his family surroundings will constantly interrupt. This self-deprecating, reflective tone led me to think about how Dunthorne expansively explores the idea of the contemporary poet and artist identity through metanarrative. In Ben Lerner’s The Hatred of Poetry (Fitzcarraldo Editions, 2016), he writes ‘There is embarrassment for the poet – couldn’t you get a real job and put your childish ways behind you?’ In a recent online interview with the poet Will Harris[1], when asked about his own development as a writer, he spoke about how the career trajectory of a poet is a confusing phenomenon and I’ve heard many other poets speak of this too: there are perhaps milestones to pass but they are not rigid or obvious and, of course, they are set apart from the milestones of more ‘adult’, professional pursuits. I think Dunthorne’s short story accurately captures this confusion around artistic, personal and intellectual growth and the navigation of the poetry community, through these minute, telling observations and the rejection of a simplistic narrative linearity. The story doesn’t make any hard or fast judgements: like the character of the baby, the observations just are. Sometimes, it feels like this project could be one of the most important aspects of Adam’s life (it might even make or break it) and we are there with him and at other moments it seems quite irrelevant to the bigger picture, particularly as the bios get more ridiculous. Here, I just have to highlight one of the bios which perfectly evokes this heightened sense of a poet’s importance:

Peter Daniels’ seventh collection The Animatronic Tyrannosaurus of Guadalajara, is forthcoming with Welt Press. He will not let anyone forget that he edited Unpersoned, a prize-winning book of creative transcriptions of immigration interviews obtained by the Freedom of Information Act, even though it was published nearly two decades ago. His poetry has been overlooked for all previous generational anthologies and it is only thanks to the fine-tuned sensibilities of this book’s editor that has he finally become one of the chosen. You would expect him to be grateful.

> Okay…so I said above that there weren’t hard or fast judgements; maybe I should retract that slightly. The text definitely doesn’t feel like a cruel critique of poets generally (its comedy is too clever for that) but, yes, there are a fair few judgements from Adam creeping into those bios. I am so impressed with the way in which Dunthorne is able to expertly navigate Adam’s perspective through all these fragments to create this growing humour, as the character can’t help inserting his own opinions into other poets’ bios. Of course, we are also able to make our own judgements about Adam and his endearing naivety: shout out here to my fave character in the story, Joy Goold (‘exhilaratingly Scottish’) who has submitted the poem, Fake Lake, to the anthology. Hopefully if you’re Scottish, you can appreciate the comedy of this title. Adam Googles her and cannot find any trace of her, which feels perfect…almost too good to be true.

> Dunthorne plays with cliché overtly throughout the text. You could say all the poets in this story are exaggerated clichés but that certainly doesn’t make them boring: it just adds to the knowing intimacy that, yes, feels slightly gossipy (which I can’t help but enjoy). For example, there is the poet who has:

[…] won every major UK poetry prize and long ago dispensed with modesty […] Though he does not need the money he teaches on the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His latest collection is Internal Flight (Faber/FSG). He divides his time between London and New York because they are both lovely.

I am leaving out a fair bit of this bio because I don’t want to take away some of the joy of simply reading this text in its entirety but it is one of many tongue-in-cheek observations that feels very accurate and over-the-top at the same time (I feel like everyone in the poetry community knows this person). It is also even more knowing when you consider that Dunthorne actually has published a collection with Faber, O Positive (2019), a totally immersive read that also doesn’t shy away from poking fun at its speaker throughout. I always like seeing the ideas that repeatedly crop up in a writer’s work and explorations of calculation and cliché are at the forefront of this collection. I keep thinking of this line from the poem ‘Workshop Dream’:

We stepped onto the beach. The water made the sound: cliché, cliché, cliché.

Interestingly, there is this hypnotising dream-like quality to O Positive - with shape shifting figures, balloonists, owls-in-law – in contrast to the hyper realism I experienced in the Rough Trade pamphlet. However, like All the Poems, in O Positive, we’re always one step inside the writing, one step outside, watching the poem/short story being written. It’s this continual sensation of being very close to failure and embarrassment/cringe. (I can also draw parallels here between Dunthorne’s exploration of this theme and the poet Colin Herd who speaks so brilliantly about the relation between poetry and embarrassment- see our SPAM interview.) Failure is just inevitable in this narrative set up. It makes the turning point of the narrative- when it arrives- all the funnier:

As Adam typed, he hummed the chorus to the Avril Lavigne song–why d’you have to go and make things so complicated?–and smiled to himself because he was keeping things simple. Avril Lavigne. Adam Lorral. Their names were a bit similar. He was looking for a sign and here one was.

> If it isn’t clear already, this is a story that I could continually quote from but to truly appreciate the work, you should read it in its beautiful slim pamphlet format created by Rough Trade Editions. For me, the presentation of this work is as important as the form: this story would have a different effect and tone if it was nestled inside a short story collection. I think a lot of the most exciting creative writing right now is being published by the innovative small indie presses springing up around the UK. Recently I listened to a great podcast by Influx Press, featuring the writer Isabel Waidner: they spoke about both the value of small presses taking risks with writers and the importance of recognising prose as an experimental field, rightly recognising that experimental work often seems to begin with, or be connected to, the poetry community. Waidner’s observation felt like something I had been waiting to hear…and a change that I had noticed in writing being published in the last few years in the UK. I could mention so many examples alongside the work of Rough Trade Books: Waidners’s We are Made of Diamond Stuff (2019), published by Manchester-based Dostoyevsky Wannabe, Eley William’s brilliant Attrib. and Other Stories (Influx Press, 2017), the many exciting hybrid works put out by Prototype Publishing, to name just a few. There is also a growing interest in multimedia work, for example Visual Editions, who publish texts designed to be read on your phone through their series Editions at Play (Joe Dunthorne did a brilliant digital-born collaborative text with Sam Riviere in 2016, The Truth About Cats & Dogs, I would highly recommend!). But this concept of combining the short story with a pamphlet format, created by Rough Trade Books as part of their Rough Trade Editions’ twelve pamphlet series, feels particularly exciting to me and is a reminder of why I love the expansive possibilities of shorter prose pieces. Through its physical format, we are reminded that this is a prose work you can read like a series of poems without losing the narrative tension that is so central to fiction. The expansiveness of the reading possibilities of Dunthorne’s short story also reminds me of Lydia Davis’s short-short stories. Here’s one I love taken from The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis (Penguin Books, 2009):

They take turns using a word they like

“It’s extraordinary,” says one woman. “It is extraordinary,” says the other.

You could read this as a sound bite, an extract from an article, a writing exercise or a short story, the possibilities go on; there is a space created for the reader and consequently it encourages the unravelling of re-reading (which feels like a very poetic mode to me). Like Davis, Dunthorne’s work also highlights how seemingly simple language can be very powerful and take on many subtle faces and tones. I think short forms are so difficult to get right but when you encounter all the elements of language, tone, pacing, style, space, tension brought together effectively (or calculatingly as Dunthorne might say), it can create this immersive, highly intimate back-and-forth play with the reader.

> All The Poems Contained Within Will Mean Everything to Everyone. The title tells us there is a collection of poems here that are hidden: the central work has disappeared leaving behind the shadowy remains of the editor’s frustration and the marginalia of the bios. We feel the presence of the poems despite not actually reading them. The pamphlet’s blurb states that this: ‘is the story of the epiphanies that come with extreme tiredness; that maybe, just maybe the greatest poetry book of all is one that contains no poems.’ The narrative, as well as making fun of itself, also recognises that poetry exists beyond the containment of the poems themselves: it can be found in the readings, the performances, the politics, the drafts, the difficulties, the funding, the collaboration, the collectivity, the bios.

> A friend of mine recently asked me: Where are all the prose parties?…And what might a prose party look like? We were chatting about how a poetry party sounds much cooler (that’s maybe why there’s more of them). I think prose is often aligned with more conventional literary forms, maybe closed off in a way that poetry is seen to be able to liberate, but I think Dunthorne breaks down these preconceptions and binaries around form and modes of reading in All The Poems. I want to be at whatever prose party he’s throwing.

[1] University of Glasgow’s Creative Conversations, Sophie Collins interviewing Will Harris, Monday 4th May 2020 (via Zoom)

~

Text: Kirsty Dunlop Published: 10/7/20

[bornasghosts7165]

All I Want: Part 29

Previous Part

You were in a rut of epic proportions. The days were started to blur together and nothing was changing on the love life front. You would wake up, alone in your bunk in the bus. You would usually share a room with Harry obviously but seeing as you weren’t exactly on speaking turns you were relegated to the bus. Which you didn’t mind. It was in the true spirit of tour after all. You would then edit picture until it was time to take more pictures and then you would edit those until it was time to sleep again. It felt like you had hardly talked to anyone in a couple days, and everything seemed to be in limbo.

Louis was understandable pissed at you. Maddie just didn’t know which side to take so she was keeping her distance. Harry had no idea how to even begin a conversation with you, and Liam didn’t know if it was okay to talk to you given what had happened with Harry. You didn’t know where you stood with anyone. You weren’t necessarily broken up with Harry, but you weren’t sure if you were really together either. Liam had just told you he loved you and you kissed, and now there’s been no interaction for days. You didn’t know if Maddie and Louis would ever look at you the same way. It felt like you were at a turning point in your life, and making the correct turn would determine everything. 

The one upside about being on your own for a little while was that you had the chance to think about things without anyone else’s behavior clouding your judgement. It felt like you were getting reacquainted with yourself, which, hopefully, would allow you to make the right choice. Before this tour, you had such a strong hold on who you were, but learning things from your past made you question all that. You didn’t know where that information should fit into your current life and who you had become, so it just turned into a big mess. But now that you had more free time on your hands to think about what you had done, you could really think about how the knowledge of Liam’s troubling news should affect you going forward.

The fact of the matter was that you were married and the fact that you didn’t know or realize how hard life had gotten for him was deeply troubling to you. You felt like you had failed him as a friend and as a wife. You knew you would always love Liam. He was such a big part of your life for so long and while you were hurt by what he did you didn’t think you could ever forget the feeling of being with him. It was the kind of love that was your entire life. It was what had defined you for so long, and for a while you were proud of that. But should that mean everything changes now that you know the truth? Should that mean you give your relationship another chance? It was easy to fall back into a relationship with Liam because it was what you had known for so long, but could the people you were now be in a relationship like you were before? The feelings were extremely present, but that didn’t mean it was meant to be. 

You liked who you were before the start of this tour. You liked your life and you didn’t want anything to change it. The only good thing that had come out of this mess was that there were no more secrets between you and Harry. But before tour you were independent and adventurous. It took you a little while to get your bearings after being jilted by Liam, but soon you felt like you knew exactly what you were doing and you were confident that that was what your life was supposed to be. Touring and being with Harry seemed like a pretty good life. Being in the real world, and seeing new things in new places had really changed the way you saw things and it changed you. This was the person you wanted to be. Before you started touring you weren’t as sure of yourself. You felt sheltered and like being in the same place for so long with the same people had lulled you into an odd sense of security. You and Liam had your adventures, but it was different back then. You had gotten too comfortable in your life with Liam and while comfort was an important part of a relationship, it made it hard to grow. You knew what every day would be like and there was nothing challenging about it. That wasn’t you anymore, and while you still felt love when you kissed Liam you also felt like you were transported back to that time. But if you didn’t try, how would you know what a relationship with Liam would be like now? What if your love was too big to ignore? You were different people, so it would be different this time, right?

But then you began adding Harry into the equation. You were comfortable with Harry, but it was different than with Liam. You and Harry kind of fell right into a relationship because he felt so familiar, but there was never anything dull about your relationship. You knew Harry really well and he knew you too, but if the past few weeks had told you anything, it was what you didn’t know absolutely everything about each other. Despite the problems that had caused, you kind of liked that about your relationship. You didn’t grow up with Harry. You had different experiences and you learned different things that each of you could learn from the other. With the love and ease you felt with Harry you also felt like you truly complemented each other. There was give and take, and until recently some really good communication. You both knew what the other wanted and you worked hard to accommodate each other with minimal complication. Most importantly, the simple fact that you were with Harry made you happy. Your relationship was only a year in, but you knew in your heart that you and Harry could be something really great if you could get passed this big mess and if he would still have you. If either guy would have you after what was probably the most indecisive time of your life you would be lucky.

About five days into your silent treatment, which despite the time it gave you to think did sting a bit, Louis had decided to take pity on you. You’d spent so much time alone that it was almost unnatural for anyone to come up to you. You thought Louis would be the absolute last person to talk to you. You didn’t see him coming and you almost didn’t realize he was talking to you. 

“Oh, uh…hi.” You say once you realize.

“Hi.” Louis said again. “How are you?” Louis asked.

“Um…” You say, knowing he probably knew the answer. “I mean, I’ve been better.”

“Right.” He replies. 

“How is…” You begin, but trail off.

You didn’t know if you were allowed to ask about Harry. Now you were wondering if he had asked about you, which made you heart leap a little bit. But the odds of that were slim. Every time you saw him he still looked kind of stunned. In the pictures you had of him, something seemed off and you knew it was because of you. Now that you had thought about it, the secret that you had tried to keep was insane. First off, he was bound to find out eventually with Liam on tour. Second, you probably should have told me a long time again, and you especially should have told him when you talked about what had happened with Liam. And third, because you loved him, and you should want the person you loved to know you. You were sure that last one, and having seen you kiss Liam was what was getting Harry. If only you could explain what was happening in your head and in your heart.

“Probably about the same as you.” Louis says, knowing what you were going to ask. “Even when you’re not talking you’re annoyingly in sync.”

It didn’t really seem like Louis knew what to say either, which made you wonder why he had come over here in the first place. He had basically been giving you the death stare for days and now here he was. To make amends? To yell at you some more, and tell you what a huge mistake you had made? He didn’t look like he was still angry, or at least he was less angry. He mostly just looked conflicted, which was an emotion you knew well.

“So, not to be rude or anything, but why are you talking to me?” You asked. “Last I remember I was pubic enemy number one.”

“Well, it’s been a couple days since everything happened, and-“

“Maddie told you to, right?” You interrupt. 

“Yeah,” Louis confirms. “But I think it’s been long enough. The way everything happened was…intense.”

“It’s all just so complicated. Trust me, I understand the feeling of insanity.” You tell him.

“Maddie tried to tell me about everything. I don’t really understand it, but I guess I could tried to be easier on you. I, better than anyone, know you and Liam were…close.”

“Close.” You chuckle, knowing that was a huge understatement. “But you were right: I should have told Harry a long time again.” You tell him.

“But, it shouldn’t have been like that. It was way too public.” Louis acknowledges. “I could have been a better friend.”

“Aw, do you miss me?” You teased. 

“It’s just weird when you’re not annoying me all the time.” Louis replies. 

“You missed me.” You assert. 

Suddenly you see Harry turn the corner and see you and Louis talking. His face immediately drops and he looks down. He was clearly not in a forgiving mood like Louis was. He walked toward you looking incredibly uncomfortable. He still couldn’t look at you after days. It hurt, and all you wanted to do was meet him halfway, pick up his face and look him in the eye so he knew you were still you, but you weren’t sure if that was the best thing. He didn’t seem ready to talk to you and you had to respect that. 

“Louis.” Harry said once he was close enough. 

“Hey, mate.” Louis says.

“Let’s go lay down that track.” Harry requests, keeping his eye only on Louis.  

“Yeah, okay, I’ll meet you there.” Louis tells him.

Harry walks away and you watch him go, dying to talk to him.

“He wants to talk to you too.” Louis tells you when he notices you watching Harry.

“I’m not so sure. He just completely ignored me.”

“He’s upset, but he still cares about you. You have to admit, this is kind of a tricky situation. But he can see your struggling just like you know he is.” Louis informs you. “Like I said; obnoxiously in sync.”

“I don’t even know what to say, Louis.”

“We were all drunk that night. It wasn’t exactly the best time to have that conversation. And I know that’s my fault I’m sure he said some things that he regrets too.” Louis informs you. “Just…talk to him. Try to explain. Only you can make this right.” 

“I’m really not sure that I can. It’s kind of a lot.” You recognize. 

“But if you have feelings for another guy…” Louis begins.

“I know I have to talk to him. It’s just…”

“You don’t know what you want.” Louis finishes. “Look, I might not get it, but I want you to be happy. So, if exploring whatever is going on in your head is going to lead to you being happy then I guess you have to go for it…just figure it out quickly before things get even more out of hand.” 

Figure it out was easy said than done. And having a conversation about it sounded like a nightmare. Saying the wrong thing could be disastrous, but not saying anything at all was maybe worse. The longer you went without talking to him the faster you felt like he was slipping away. He deserved a real explanation; not a drunken confession. It was a lot to take in, but he’s had a couple days to think about it. Maybe it was time to break the silence. You cared to much about Harry to let him wonder or to let him think you didn’t care about him. This was like a festering wound: the longer you let it sit the worse it would get. Or at least it wouldn’t get any better. You didn’t know exactly what you wanted but at the very least you could explain to Harry your true feelings and make sure he understood that it wasn’t as simple as it seemed. It would be hard to hear but at least you would have the chance to talk through everything. Most of all you wanted to let him know what he wasn’t just a rebound, but much much more than that. With those thoughts in your mind, you take a deep breath and take off after Harry.