Wit Makes Me Happy
Is it tasty as a piece of raclette on a fresh baguette, is it refreshing and comforting as vanilla ice cream, is it warm as the sun on my back - why does The Paris Review bring me so much joy? I am barely a quarter into it and I know it will be read back to back. Not only does it allow me to explore and discover my personal likes of poetry, introduces me to names in fiction I am not acquainted with, it also describes the creative process and exposes the person behind the pen in a way of interviews with poets and writers. One such I read, is an interview with Les Murray . As much as the sample of his two poems did not trigger in me a harmonious response, I thoroughly enjoyed reading his personal narrative, I might add: to my surprise.
Having read the biographical introduction to the interview, I was biased by the note that Les Murray was admitted to the Catholic Church in 1964 and has prefaced several of his books with a dedication “To the Glory of God”. An artist following a dogma, is an unambiguous paradox in my mind. There is nothing more thwarting for creativity than a blind acceptance of any doctrine, and yet - Les Murray has proven to be very liekable, and witty and thoughtful and perceptive and a… non conformist.
Here is why. Asked about religion, I was impressed that it was Not the absolute truth which appealed to Murray but the ideology:
Many folk assume I came in because of Valerie, who was and is a Catholic. But not a bit of it - I came in because it is the best and only reliable Big Poem (…) Catholicism was something of a bulwark against the Nazism of sex that I’d observed everywhere in the society already (…) worship of youth and beauty; ruthless relegation of the dowdy, the unhandsome and the shy.”
Murray is also a strong believer in the importance of poetry readings and engages in the “readings over the heads of the elite” bringing poetry to nonacademic audiences. The compassion for the “dowdy, the unhandsome and the shy” as well as the affection towards the uneducated, has everything to do with Murray’s own background and trials of growing up.
On poetry he is quoted to have said that a “thought” is the worst thing to try to write a poem with.
We have three minds, I reckon, one of which is the body, while the other two are forms of mentation: daylight consciousness and dreaming consciousness. (…) Thinking in a fusion of our three minds is how humans do naturally think, at any level above the trivial.
On prose:
Plots are too akin to fates, but even cheaper and nastier, being human attempts to manufacture fate, to stimulate it. It’s a tormenting of mental slaves.
All of the above have brought a smile to my face in understanding or in acknowledgment. “The story” is often exceedingly glorified in the film industry which I am peripherally part of. I personally derive most pleasure from semi formal, surprising assemblies of words or images. Colloquially: I totally get Les Murray.