Jacket 19 — October 2002 | # 19 Contents | Homepage | Catalog | |
Paul Killebrew reviews
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In a talk with Craig Dworkin, Lyn Hejinian says that ‘western science bases its definitions of knowledge on certainties, and certainty requires that something be perceivable repeatedly.’ She makes this comment as a segue to Gertrude Stein: This is interesting in terms of Stein’s argument that there is no repetition, which would have to mean there is no certainty, while at the same time she considered herself a realist writer and, like me, she was very enamored of the scientific method: requiring patience, careful observation, an attempt not to over-interpret, to let the thing be itself.
I mention these comments to begin a brief argument whose crux is that Hejinian is less an experimental writer than an investigatory one. I know that I can’t really make this distinction — or at least make it air-tight — chiefly because these may not be very distinct categories. My sense is that Gertrude Stein was also more investigatory than experimental, or more accurately that she investigated through experiment — using some version of a scientific method. The Making of Americans is a great example, a work that’s part of Stein’s ‘enormous and spreading study of the relationships of everything to everything else,’ as Hejinian describes it. This work seems to fall more cleanly into the ‘investigation’ category than something like Ashbery’s ‘Europe,’ which seems more purely experimental. Perhaps the difference has to do with the structuring of the process; Stein sought to systematically categorize types of people, whereas Ashbery has described ‘Europe’ as ‘experiments which I thought would perhaps lead to something, but I didn’t really intend them to be finished poems.’ I think I’m distinguishing between a poetic investigation and a poetic experiment based on what the work under consideration expresses as its most fundamental priority: an investigation would seek out the possibilities of knowledge (and residually, language), while an experiment would seek out the possibilities of language (and residually, knowledge). Effacing one distinction only to discover another
You can see how the lines bleed into one another, though I’d say much of the book feels like the first and last lines compressed: ‘Effacing one distinction only to discover another. . . The real plot lying between.’ In fact, it’s tempting to review A Border Comedy through a patchwork of lines from the text itself, so often does Hejinian seem to be walking around her book in the reviewer’s loafers: We will know more still when the sentence is done [. . .]
The one complaint I’ve heard about Lyn Hejinian’s work that I can’t get around and that irks me for its oafishness is that it’s boring, which it certainly can be. Again, this may be a question of the borders of sensibility and intellect, but either way I had to read the book out loud to really find it, and even then I could only see it swirling around itself, hands extended while retreating. I think I was thinking that hearing the book in my own voice would bring some sort of aural sensuality to the heady lines, and if it did, I could only describe the feeling it gave me as decadent indeterminacy, or maybe decadently indeterminate. I originally wrote the previous sentence on the bottom of page 73 of A Border Comedy, which contains these lines: My ambition being to unite the process of transformation with that of interpretation
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Jacket 19 — October 2002
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