Something to read

What is a good poem?

Young people of today famously do not read.  They are too engaged with on-line videos and smartphones to bother with printed works, and so we witness a further decline of literacy and culture in the world.

Except it isn’t always true.  One of our tutor’s students, looking ahead to a time when she would not always be closely guided by English or Literature teachers, asked, “Should I read Moby Dick?”  Our tutor opened up the question to a much more general: “What good stuff is out there to read?”  After much pondering, he came up with a short summary of works that were of high quality, that she’d see references to, or that he’d enjoyed along the way.

But he included no poetry.  Not because it isn’t important; indeed, the most powerful expression of feelings or ideas is often in a poem.  But poetry is so diverse, and reaction to it so individual, that recommending anything for a particular person is a losing game.  And, to be blunt, most poetry is just bad.  There’s a higher percentage of unreadable stuff in poetry than in any other genre.

Our writer has come up with this analogy: poetry is like food.  Some is simple and crude, though nourishing and tasty.  Some is sophisticated and highly complex, requiring study and skill to appreciate properly.  Some types you like and some you don’t (Indian, Moroccan, North or South Italian, Thai, Southern comfort food, et cetera) in general, and within a type you’ll be generally be able to agree on which restaurant puts out a better product.  But if most people are asked to explain why, they’ll find it difficult.  And we’ve found no one who can explain convincingly why one person cannot stand seafood and another craves it.

There’s no point in asking poets about it.  They trade in ambiguous or multiple meanings, things implied but not said; they will give you ideas and phrases but no hard answers.  If, like a scientist, you want a criterion you can use to sort poems into good and bad like you sort stars into types G and K, you’ll be disappointed.  Indeed, our writer spent much time and effort once trying to find a definition of poetry itself (never mind its quality), with unsatisfying results.

And tastes change.  The Enlightenment sought to reduce everything to reason, to a set of rules, and developed some for poetry.  By these rules Shakespeare was found wanting, and some works we now find tedious were held up as paragons.  If you look in poetry anthologies from a century ago you’ll find works that have vanished from current ones, though their place seemed secure at the time.

So, what can we do?  Not give up and stick to prose; that would lose too much.  We suggest trying a variety, sorted vaguely into types.  That way you can tell whether a Shakespearean sonnet sequence resonates with you, or the verse libre of e. e. cummings, or the undisciplined sprawling lines of Walt Whitman.  Paw through the dusty stacks in used-book stores.  Somewhere, you’ll find something that speaks to you.