Thanks Z. Good post. I'm personally exhausted on the Eunoia topic, so I won't jump back in. But I hope you stick around. We need voices like yours to keep things interesting.

I realize this comes a bit late, and the iron is perhaps cold, but I just wanted to say that I greatly enjoyed reading through the thread of this discussion, wherein resides much thought and much provocation thereof.

I'd just like to chip in with a few thoughts on the form/content issue. This is, of course, like virtually all dichotomies, a false one, that serves to obfuscate more than it clarifies. I think one of the problems in this debate is perspicuity. And so I offer a non-prescriptive and general definition of form: the unity of structure and content. It seems to me that a lot of people, when saying "form", were meaning more what I would define as "structure". A tree has a structure, yes, but I wouldn't say that it has "form" in the same way that an artistic production does. And you can write 14 lines of iambic pentameter verse in an ABAB CDCD EFEF GG pattern, and still not have a sonnet, per se. My distinction here is analagous to that traditionally drawn between "house" and "home". Now, I've seen a lot of structurally impressive pieces of architecture, both "classical" and "avant-garde" (to employ another dubious dichotomy) and many ready-made carbon-copy suburban domiciles, but wouldn't like to settle down to live in them. TFK made some salient comments about the content and meaning of Eunoia, and I found the book, on many levels, impressive, amusing, and entertaining, but ultimately, to me, it is not a structure in which I feel I could set up residence. I think it falls short of that unity of content and structure that is necessary in art--that distinguishes art from mere craft. (In this, I agree with Starnino, but I would level the same accusation at much of the verse that he champions; and I think penboy's point about not being able to recall anything from Eunoia is bang-on.) This is a fault that all would-be poetry shares, whether it's overly rigid formalist verse, or sloppy chopped prose, or turgid L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poetry. Eunoia, I think, is a better thing than all of the above, but I can't agree that it is poetry. It is a piece de bravour, sans doute, and a tremendous labour (of love?), but virtuosity and massive time commitment alone do not poetry make. A matter of taste, perhaps, but one informed by reading from Gilgamesh to Al Purdy, a taste that I flatter myself as being quite catholic (in the undogmatic sense of the word).

I agree that many of today's poetasters could learn a thing or two about rigour and rhythm from Bok, just as many great writers of last century picked up tricks from Gertrude Stein. This does not mean that Stein was a writer of the same calibre as Hemingway, nor one to be imitated. Perhaps she and Bok are geniuses of a sort, but they seem to be geniuses more of math-like theory than of literature. Stein's work survives only because it is fascinating for academics of a particular bent, and because she was such an influential figure on the better American writers of her time.

Speaking of Stein, who _tried_ to incorporate Picasso's cubism into her writing, if there is still resistance to writing of a non-or-less-representational varitey, it is because it has never worked well, has never made the convincing case for its own existence that, say, Pollock's work did and does. I think this is because language, unlike colour and shape and texture(which--I suppose, arguably--exist independently of human creation), is inextricably linked to representation, to meaning, to narrative (caveat: I know this is a simplification, but there are only 24 hours in a day and so many words in my fingers). Bok gives a nod to this, and does not, to his credit and unlike many avant-guardians, divorce sound from sense altogether (at least not in this book) but sense is ultimately a secondary consideration. I've heard Bok read from the book, and I have to say that it and some of his more radical sound poetry, is much more aptly suited to an aural medium than the page. As TFK said, it's a kind of jazz, perhaps a brilliant kind of jazz, but Charley Parker warn't a poet, except in the classical sense of the term: i.e. "maker". Perhaps Bok is a "poet" and Eunoia "poetry" in the same sense. I think this is valid (even if I don't entirely credit it), but do we then start heralding brilliant paintings and musical scores as the best thing to happen to poetry since X?

While I would quarrel with much of what Starnino has said and will say about poetry, I think he is to be commended for taking on Eunoia, if not because he was the lone voice of sanity in a clamorous babble of praise, then because he has the integrity to take on (mostly) victorious causes, to paraphrase Nietzsche. I think this is the crux of the issue: not the merits of Eunoia qua Eunoia, but of Eunoia qua shining exemplar of poetry and Griffin Prize Winner. I was stunned, and yes angry, when I heard that Eunoia had won the award (not that I think that literary prizes mean a damn thing). My girlfriend was puzzled, because I'd told her some time before how much I enjoyed the book (a gift from her mother), and had read aloud some of the funnier "U" passages. But my enjoyment of Bok's work, while thorough, was on a different plane from my enjoyment of, say, Ted Hughes, or Elizabeth Bishop, or Milton Acorn. It was more in the way that I enjoy clever light verse (a sorely neglected field in Canadian poetics of late), or a good pyrotechnics show, or a dog doing especially impressive tricks; I also enjoy Jim Carrey and Adam Sandler. Eunoia is fundamentally a well-executed parlour game which does not live up to the ballyhoo that has surrounded it. But this, as always, is open to debate...

Penboy, I think that the content of Eunoia is secondary, or incidental, to its form is the part of the point of Eunoia, but like I keep saying, the visual art world went through the same crisis 100 years ago (abstraction in art! Good lord! Picasso, that hack!). I find it odd that the same idea as it pertains to literature is still receiving resistance over a century later.

The reason Starnino could find similar passages in Perec's work is beacuse the lipogram is an established device in avant-garde poetry, being the omission of a given letter or letters from a composition. However, with Eunoia, Bok has taken the concept to its logical conclusion, has used it to illustrate an solid idea rather than experimenting with it blindly just to see what happens, and actually crafted his content, rather than produce whatever available nonsense he could as Perec did in "What a man." For these reasons, I believe (so far as I know, I’m not an expert in this area of literature) Eunoia may well be superior to similar works that preceded it.

Furthermore, I do believe that Eunoia is a stellar example of poetry, not all poetry, granted, but it is poetry, and it is stellar.

A lot of what you seem to be driving at in your last post sounds like an issue of personal preference. If you prefer traditional lyrical poetry, there's nothing wrong with that. If you prefer work that has an emotional impact, there's nothing wrong with that either. That's my preference as well; there are many books I enjoy more than Eunoia (though I still enjoy it), but I try to keep my personal preferences separate from any kind of critical thought, and when I think about Eunoia critically, I can't help but think it's a brilliant work that deserved the praise it received based on its own merit, and that Starnino's negative review was rooted in his own conservative, traditionalist poetic ideology. It reminds me that art critics once railed against cubism, dada, futurism, fauvism, or any drastic formal development for that matter (all of which proved that the formal arrangement of "secondary" subject matter has an overriding thematic significance), but history has praised the daring and silenced the dull.

As to why Christian wrote his retort in Matrix magazine, I can't pretend to know his mind in this matter. It could be a matter of ego, it could be that he thought it would be fun, it could be that he felt it was his prerogative to enter into a dialogue, it could be all of the above. I generally think it's a bad idea to respond to negative reviews, but if you really think the reviewer has missed the point completely, then why not enter into a dialogue?

I want to point out that I don't want to impugn Starnino for being a poetic conservative. Bok is just as dogmatic about the avant-garde as Starnino is about traditional work, and I disagree with Bok on a lot of points, too. There's plenty of room in Canada for both of them, and I'm glad there are intelligent poets who take criticism seriously, dogmatic or not. For myself, I prefer to remain neutral on the question of intrinsic value in lyrical poetry versus the (so-called) experimental, because, despite my personal preferences, I don't think one has more intrinsic value than the other. I think that's closer to a kind of poetic agnosticism than dogmatism.

And now it seems we’re both starting to repeat ourselves. That’s great that you’re going to give Eunoia another read. Thanks for a stimulating discussion. Forcing me to elucidate my thoughts on Eunoia has lead to some personal eunoia.

Hi FK:
  
All clear that you didn't mean to suggest I was personally threatened by the success of the book - and just to clarify I wasn't offended but wanted try and explain that I thought I gave the book a chance.

I wouldn't say literal meaning is all I want (and the dedication to form in Eunoia is refreshing) but I'd say the form, in Eunoia, restricts the meaning and content, a bit like trying to dance inside a coffin (and the best argument I can make here is that I couldn't remember the book after I read it). If poetry isn't about putting the best words in the best order (but becomes instead the best available words) to describe whatever literal meaning is desired, surely the impact suffers and/or becomes secondary. It's a little like remembering the special effects from a George Lucas movie, but not the plot.

At the same time the form itself didn't strike me as original. If Starnino can quote similar stuff from "What a Man!" by Georges Perec, it's a form that's been done. And if Starnino didn't strike a nerve, why did Bok reply? What we hear over and over again about the book is that seven years of painstaking work went into it - and I agree it's an accomplishment, but the amount of time and work that went into it doesn't provide proof of worth (those big, empty George Lucas movies are made by an army of people).

I can see that the idea that language itself has character is in the book, and if Bok can remind readers and poets alike to have a childish enthusiasm for language (I don't mean childish as a insult here, only in the sense of a fresh, unburdened perspective) that's valuable, as is the reminder for poets to consider form.

I agree that Eunoia is an alternative to the "mass produced cultural noise" (nicely put) but so is all poetry, and I'd personally rather see poets work towards connecting with the public. At times, I feel like poets are so used to being disconnected and ignored by the general public, they've started to work towards ideas and places obscure enough to provide justification for their own isolation. Bok has been quoted as saying the biggest problem with modern poetry "is the audience." The interviewer took this to mean that if audiences aren't sophisticated enough for Bok, he considers that their problem. This is a bit of a shift, in the perspective of the writer, from the idea that you should be both meaningful and accessible, or you'll deserve to lose your audience.

David Mamet has an interesting quote: "The avant-garde is to the left what jingoism is to the right. Both are a refuge in nonsense. And the warm glow of fashion on the left and patriotism on the right evidence individuals' comfort in their their power to elect themselves members of a group superior to reason."

Finally, let me just say that all this is just my opinion, and I didn't really start off with the intention of taking such a stand on Eunoia. It isn't my personal mission in life to tear down the book, I just feel it's been held up as a shining example of poetry in, for the most part, an almost completely uncritical way (and perhaps in some way Starnino wanted to make up for that).

At that, I'm already starting to repeat myself, so I'm not sure how much more I'll have to say. I think we have to agree to disagree here. Let me just add that I've appreciated the discussion, and will consider giving Eunoia another read, thanks to your arguments here.

Penboy, thanks for your post, though I think you may have misconstrued some of the things I wrote in my last post. First of all, I didn’t mean to imply that you specifically feel threatened by, or jealous of, Eunoia, and how could I? I don’t know who you are or what your own work is like!

Also, I didn’t say “meaning” is incidental in Eunoia, I said “content” (in the traditional sense) is incidental, but that is not to say its content is arbitrary. Everything in Eunoia is painstakingly crafted and set in place. I don’t believe content and meaning are always exclusive to one another, and in some cases they need not be related; a painting by Mark Rothko has no discernable content other than its colour (and rectangular shape, if you like), yet his paintings are deeply spiritual, and therefore have meaning. What Bok does in Eunoia is similar, except that his “colours” are the sounds of vowels rather than red and orange pigments, and they play in the reader’s ear instead of in the viewer’s eye.

But that isn’t ALL he’s doing. If you want literal meaning in the text, and if that’s all you want, there’s still a mountain of things to talk about. Each “chapter” begins with a monologue about literature; there are meditations on nature; tales of adventure; luscious descriptions of food; and if that isn’t enough, Bok goes on to add lessons of history, art, religion, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. All of these are subjects befitting lyrical poetry. Chapter “E” alone retells the story of the Iliad. Why, there’s enough literal content in Eunoia to choke semiotics professor. It’s rife with content and literal meaning, if you want it. And what’s more, it’s all there to serve the overriding thesis of the book: that language itself is interesting.

And if you’re looking for lyrical craft, Eunoia has that, too. Lots of it. It has rhythm. Eunoia has so much rhythm you could set it to jazz. In a way, the entire text works as a kind of lexicographical jazz. And as for lyrical devices, the entire book is nothing less than a monument to the device of assonance, the special kind of alliteration that repeats vowel sounds. Furthermore, the book has many moods, and it takes careful writing to create a mood; it’s often funny, very funny, and at times it’s austere, and even, yes, occasionally it’s profound (see Eunoia, page 38, for an example of this).

Because the content and the lyricism of Eunoia are subservient to the greater thesis of the work doesn’t remove it from the “function” of purely lyrical poems. What poem’s components don’t exist to serve the poem in its entirety? I maintain that Eunoia is successful both as a work of lyrical verse and as an illustration of linguistic theory.

And that theory, being that language itself has character apart from its signified meaning, is hardly an idea for children. Rather, I would liken it to a kind of Zen meditation, a profound and steadfast reflection on the very nature of the building blocks of language both oral and written, because it concerns itself with vowels, which are letters that are written, and vowels, which are sounds that are spoken. It’s far more than child’s play; its very scope makes it a mature work of theoretical and poetic investigation.

Put short, I don’t discredit Starnino for being the sole dissenting voice on the subject of Eunoia, and generally I think he’s an astute reader or poetry. But an objective reader of poetry and its criticism must recognize that to date Starnino has demonstrated an almost dogmatic adherence to classicism in his criticism of verse. He’s a traditionalist, a lyrical fundamentalist, if you like, and I just think that in this particular case (Sorry Carmine) he was gravely mistaken in his assessment of Bok’s book.

Lastly, if you firmly believe that it is a poet’s moral responsibility to provide an alternative voice to the mass-produced cultural noise that surrounds us, and if what you’re looking for is a bold, engaging, entertaining work of poetry, written with finesse, complete with complex intellectual themes: then let me recommend Eunoia by Christian Bok. Talk about an alternative voice! There’s nothing else like it in Canadian literature!

Penboy,
I think you need to go back to the cave gals and dudes who were carving buffalos into rocks to explain why people videotape themselves when they go on a hike. I don't think television has anything to do with it. People have been mediating experience since the dawn of time. Mediating experience = "telling stories"; where do stories come from, Rudy Wiebe asked. He didn't know; me neither.

But hazarding a guess, I'd say it has do with making sense of the world (Bahktin would say only where there is dialogue is there any such thing as meaning; and I dig this; so thanks for the dialogue).

And I apologize that my sorry explanation sounds brainless and naive, but why should it be complicated? Carving buffalos on rocks is about making sense of the world; maybe even giving it a heightened sense of reality; collective ritual? collective meaning? Is the videotape of the hike anything else?

Try as I might, I just don't see the videotape as a denial of reality or how hugging a tree is more real than reading a poem. Or why we should make that distinction. It's not a distinction I would ever, ever make, and if I did make it, I think I'd say the poem is more real than the tree. But I'm just a soppy Romantic (deep down, I am, really really).

OK: One small edit: I see that maybe folks would think the Romantic would favour the tree, but I'm thinking of John Keats writing, "I believe in nothing but the holiness of the hearts affections and the truth of the imagination" (i.e., the High Romantic belief that the imagination sees through the so-called reality of hard objectives and facts into a higher and real-er reality). Which brings us back to the mirror and the lamp I mentioned earlier, and my post-modern anxieties about all of that....

First of all, thanks for your thoughts.

Let me just start by saying that your post, TFK, carries implications that I suffer from some sort of professional jealously when it comes to the success of Eunoia. So you'll just have to take my word for it that while I am a poet, and certainly a more traditional one than Bok, I think of him as working in a very different arena, and actually, even when it comes to more traditional poets like myself, I find it difficult to think of them as competitors, given that even two fairly traditional poets take different approaches to different ideas. And naturally, I agree completely that Eunoia is a good example of what Bok does, as a poet, I'm pleased to see a poetry book make the news (as poetry often doesn't) and arouse debate.

All I'm really trying to say about Eunoia is that I thought it was an interesting book that was grossly overrated by glowing reviews and prizes, and that I'm glad Starnino provided a dissenting voice, risking a certain amount of scorn and criticism when he did.

If the content of Eunoia is "the sound of the vowels," that strikes me as something children do to learn language, not what artists to do communicate meaning. But Bok isn't trying to communicate meaning, right. To create an authentic experience without using language as representational is an interesting goal, but I was disturbed that reviews made Bok into an unqualified genius for the book when, after all, it has an echo (of vowels, apparently) but no lasting meaning. You describe it as "thoughtful," "enjoyable" and "crafted" and I don't deny that a reader could feel that way. At the same time, for a reader to suggest they found moving art here, in something that admits meaning is incidental, is like the reader saying they found love with a prostitute. Any feeling is incidental - it's in the reader, not in the artist, nor is it in a subject matter communicated through the poem.

It is not my intention to police what kind of poetry is written. If Bok wants to devote his life to this, and believe in it, as an art form, I wish him all the best, the way you'd wave to a neighbour before going into your own house. In short, I'm not going to stop doing what I do, or toss out my belief in meaningful communication, or that art can ask important questions, face fears, capture what would otherwise go unnoticed or bridge gaps between people by subtly pointing out that our similarities are greater than our differences. As I've suggested here, I was just relieved when Starnino provided a dissenting voice, not because I felt invalidated by the book, but because I saw no debate happening, not a single fault found with the book, no other sides presented. And that isn't good criticism.

I also see any kind of unreserved praise for Eunoia as symptomatic of a larger problem in our society, which is a quite unconscious tendency (helped by a constant prodding, from advertisers) to favour style over substance. But even beyond style, we seem satisfied with cleverness, with surface experiences. Michael correctly points out that a family knows a hike is a "real" experience, which is whey they take their cameras on a hike and not to the mall. Why then, do they want the hike to be mediated through something very much like a television? Why taint the "real" experience busily creating something that, when played later, will barely scratch the surface? On some level, we equate experience with television, wanting to see ourselves on TV having our hike, our experience.

As people who live in a capitalist society, we all know what kind of crap is constantly produced, and how we're constantly encouraged to swallow it. Poets, both articulate and unmotivated by giant gobs of money, could be argued to have something of an obligation to provide alternative voices. It's not to say there isn't room for books like Eunoia, but I was a little baffled when it was held up as a shining example of poetry in some of the most overwhelmingly positive reviews I've ever read. I think avant-garde poets, a little like spoken word poets, sometimes unwittingly present poetry in easier packaging for the consumer age - anyone can buy Eunoia, not need to get any particular message out of it, yet feel sophisticated for buying it.

I agree that we needn't "fear the persistence of abstract or experimental poetry as a threat to lyricism," (and obviously we wouldn't stop doing what we're doing anyway) but I thank the honest critics like Starnino for providing the essential service of not succumbing to fashionable trends.

Penboy, I'll take you up on your request/challenge to post some thoughts about captured experience versus something "authentic" and how these thoughts pertain to Eunoia. Or at least that's how I'm interpreting the line of thinking in your last post.

In a sense, a lyrical poem is not truly authentic because it is representational. It is a poem ABOUT a Grecian urn, or a lark, or an overweight child. The ACTUAL urn, or lark, or overweight child is merely subject matter, captured by the poem in the same way a photograph captures a tree, or a sunset, or smiling friends huddled in front of the leaning tower of Pisa. How artfully this 'capturing' manifests itself depends on the skill of the poet, or the photographer, as the case may be. Whether it is a merely a vacation snapshot or a stirring work of art, it is still nothing more than a representation, something captured from life and then reproduced, either through written words or with a visual image. What makes a representation meaningful to its audience are those things imposed upon it by its creator: context and aesthetics. These become aids to the interpretation of its meaning.

I understand the tenants of Oulipo to basically sum up to this: language can create an authentic experience without being representational. Of course, the same idea is not so radical in the visual arts, though once it was radical. Various modes of abstraction, including abstract expressionism and hardedge abstraction (both modes have no content beyond their composition) have become important developments in the field of visual expression. I don’t know why it is taking so long for some of us in the literary world to catch up to the same way of thinking, though I have my theories on the matter.

Inspired by the ideas of the Oulipo group, Christian Bok seeks to create unique, i.e. authentic, experiences using language. While Eunoia has its representational elements (each chapter contains a nautical voyage, among other narrative nuts and bolts), it’s representational content is incidental to what the work is actually doing: forcing language to reveal a few of its secrets by running it through a series of strict exercises. As I wrote in an earlier post, the true content of Eunoia is the sound of the vowels themselves; the idea it expresses is that language has character, that sounds have personalities all their own. It took Bok seven years of intense thinking and writing to express this idea the best possible way that he could, and in doing so, I believe he has crafted a work of thoughtful, enjoyable poetry.

Yes, poetry. A painting by Jackson Pollock is still a painting, even when hung next to a painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds, or even one by Robert Bateman. A poem by Christian Bok is still a poem, even though it doesn’t resemble a poem by Carmine Starnino, or even by Ogden Nash. The fathers of Oulipo were poets. Their ideas were ideas about poetry. Their experiments were experiments with poetry. Their followers continued on in turning a poetic theory into a poetic tradition, and Bok is an adherent to that tradition, no less a poet. What's more, 'liking' Eunoia doesn't mean one is obliged to 'like' all poetry of a similar ilk, just as liking a painting by Rembrandt doesn't mean you have to like one by Ken Danby, even though both are realists.

In the visual arts, the development of abstraction did not mean the death of realism. Nor should we fear the persistence of abstract or experimental poetry as a threat to lyricism. As I appreciate the work of painters like Alex Colville and Andrew Wyeth, I also like the work of Rothko and Kandinsky. While I write lyrical, even narrative, poems, I like Eunoia. It does nothing to validate what I do (or want to do) as a poet, but it’s a terrific example of what Christain Bok does as a poet. Where I think some critics often go wrong is in making ideological pronouncements on the way a given art form ought to be executed. In making such pronouncements a critic declares his wish to grind creativity to a halt. If artists of any kind took such puritanical sermons to heart, our artistic cultures would nosedive into the dullest doldrums of repetition. We would write the same poems about urns and larks and obese children again and again and again, without ever attempting anything different, anything new. Maybe the ‘success’ of Eunoia as a work of poetry is still open for debate in some corridors, and maybe there are those who would wish to canonize one mode of writing poetry over another, but for me, I would be awfully afraid to see how our poetry would suffer if any of them had their way.