Among the many things I’ve learned so far from this barely three-month-old blog is this: speak my mind in the form of poems or postcards or any of the who-knows-what-they-are finger exercises I’ve been churning out to (hopefully) ferry myself to a next book, and it’s as if I’m talking to a void, only on occasion broken by my handful of friends who bother to make wisecracks about my writing attempts (and only, I might add, when the attempts are in the vicinity of kabastusan). But speak my mind in the form of an essay—a straightforward declaration of my take on a particular issue—and all hell breaks loose. I get texted, emailed, called, stopped in the hallway, invited out for drinks by people I know well, don’t know, know but don’t really talk to, don’t know well but talk to on occasion, and so on, all of them expressing their complete or partial agreement or disagreement with my take, all of them saying in few words or many how and why they think the way they do about the issue. Prior to this, my last encounter with a reader of my work arrived via handwritten letter slipped under my office door, a letter from a stranger who had read a poem of mine while riding the LRT (courtesy of NBDB’s Tulaan sa Tren project) and wanted me to know that he very much liked the poem. What a big difference the choice of form makes on the kinds of responses elicited from readers. “When is the last time a cultural magazine published an enraged reader’s letter about the fiction in the last issue?” says Cristina Nehring in a 2003 Harper’s Magazine review of several essay collections, including books by John McPhee, Ian Frazier, and Ted Kooser. “It must happen, but rarely. The only thing to attack, in such a case, is style and skill; you can hardly attack the writer’s point of view or the writer’s print persona. Any criticism is bound to be less urgent, less personal, and far less frequent than the criticism leveled at, say, the political columnist—the guy who makes claims, in his own voice, about issues on the reader’s mind. Such essayists take far more risks, in this sense, than do fiction writers, and when they’re attacked, it is not merely their literary skills but their entire personalities that bear the blow.”
Nehring’s essay, “Our Essays, Ourselves: In defense of the Big Idea” exemplifies quite well Ken Ishikawa’s point about readers claiming their power to criticize their writers. I recommend that you read the essay in full, since it makes statements that I think are quite relevant in our own context—where many are producers and consumers of comfort reading, favoring the veneer of gentility in communicating assertions and/or embracing wholesale the personal (i.e., bordering on, if not already, inconsequential) in the personal essay—such as:
“… the pettily autobiographical frenzy… has lately seized American essayists—a frenzy for cozy, complacent, and oddly insular self-revelation that has swallowed them up in numbers. When it does not take the form of pastoral angling tales, this frenzy easily assumes the shape of urban microhistories… Highbrow anthologies abound with this kind of essay—essays on the author’s memories of his first ice-cream cone or of her parents’ drugstore, essays about catching trout with Uncle Elmer or watching the sunrise with Hubby, essays about the author’s domestic peccadilloes or a visit to an old boarding school. At once backward-looking and navel-examining, these pieces lack Sturm und Drang; a consensus seems to have grown that the genre should be… a bit sedate.”
And:
“Ultimately, this cult of personal detail, this hermetic attention to the self, is no less arrogant than the desire to tell people what’s best for them. It too often presumes that the author is infinitely fascinating for his or her own sake, that we should read him not because he says something that bears upon our world but because he himself is so fetching, so enthralling, so quirky, ‘so singular in each particular.’”
And:
“Montaigne could say, in a single breath, that his essays deal exclusively with his private self (a comment routinely quoted by contemporary essayists) and that he is undertaking a ‘study, the subject of which is man’ (a comment routinely ignored by contemporary essayists)… The best essays of the past generalize ambitiously; they prescribe as readily as they describe; they are on the lookout for Big Ideas with Vast Application. If they offend their audience, at least they address it. If they are sure to err, they are sure to awaken as well.”
I think it is useful to consider Nehring’s points in light of Mark Cayanan’s observation that Adam David’s “bombastic use of language can get distracting, in that it sometimes overwhelms critical points which may otherwise be readily admirable in their astuteness and foregrounds instead the persona who’s doing all the talking (or writing, in this case).” While David, as critic, is necessarily outward-looking rather than navel-gazing, training his eye on other people’s work, it seems some kind of ricocheting—from the reader’s vantage point—happens along the way, where we end up paying far more attention to the messenger (and what a brave soul or what a jerk he is) rather than the statements made. I agree with Cayanan’s observation, but then again, it seems the very presence of an aggressive, subjective speaker is precisely what got people reading, responding, and debating in the first place, something that practitioners of the genteel approach to criticism (of which I am a part, especially when compared to David), are unable to do (or, okay, unable to do with as much impact and fervor). One of the upsetting things (and there are a number) David does in his reviews, according to offended readers, is name names, or “drag names through the mud.” Would it be more effective to operate in generalities, saying “established writers” or “senior writers” rather than citing actual names when making points about blurb or workshop or publication politics? By extension, would it help for example to do as Marc Gaba does in “Period Piece,” a review of the now defunct annual Likhaan Book of Poetry and Fiction, where he opts not to name authors in critiquing their poems, with the goal of calling attention to the works rather than the people who wrote them and underscoring the professional approach of the piece, lest people read it as a personal attack on particular authors?
With these questions (and many others) in mind, let me end (temporarily) with Nehring again: “We think by refutation, and an idea we consider wrong is more likely than just about anything else to inspire an idea we consider right. ‘It is not instruction,’ said Emerson, ‘but provocation, that I can receive from another soul.’ … Provocation we must have, and fiction writers cannot provide enough of it. This is why we need bold, brash essayists. Ours today are too cute, too modest, and too afraid to presume. ‘If you have been put in your place long enough, you begin to act like the place,’ wrote Randall Jarrell. So it has been for our essayists. We have socked them down for so long that now they are crouched and timid. It is incumbent upon us to restore their power, to raise them, so that they may raise us.”
I want to say (apart from the thank you that you have already presumed–and deeper gratitude for that!–and gratitude is not the issue here, yes) that yes, so much depends on the form, “the red wheelbarrow.” I think that what we’re facing now is the massive downgrading of the dependability of taste (which itself speaks of a liberation that many “cultural workers” have been working toward in the last decades–though perhaps the repercussions—or global contexts–were not quite too clearly imagined), and in a context in which language, for example, English–and I mean the _signification_ process of a language like English itself–means differently in different contexts (not so much places as contexts). That’s what makes so much of public communication tricky in this era, and the huge challenge to all poets who are responding to this era.
Laura Mullen’s _Subject_ is instructive here, something I would have read differently had it not been for the blurb from Erin Moure (a Canada-based English-speaking poet, who probably also speaks French)–(and notice too that that blurb got printed in red: it was an alert!) What Jorie Graham, in a speech, brought up from an essay by Steiner in the 80s–the idea that English had some kind of tumor (and therefore also the culture)–is the situation in which people who talk in English in Manila are now, and it’s something that we and they must address if all the great things we’ve learned from English lit from whoever are to remain important. (The French kept their capital gated, is how French philosophy went on–and they will raise us if they can–oui?–whereas the English set sail… that’s another telling digression but important.) (And another digression: It is time for the third novel from Ninotchka Rosca, but it is possible that the form of the novel is not equipped for the new global order. She is one of those who can prove if it is—she can remake the novel—to mask for now the question of whether we can still afford to believe in heroes or not.)
My single point: none. You’ve written it best. I’ve just been describing the larger situation, with some strands of economics and politics and linguisitics and history involved, because any critical revolution (which possibly has already happened? that is what I sometimes dread) cannot happen in the way revolutions in the past have happened, unless the species can willingly live without electricity, oil, internet, books, etc. I’d say none of us can afford such losses.
The main instruction has been said by Shakespeare at King Lear’s end: “Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.” (Edgar was lucky, and Cordelia? Innocence at some point never is—in the imagination of the self as character.) (And of course not all feelings could be always entertained.) But the parentheticals aside, to turn to Shakespeare for a moral is a good move only if we are searching for the new morals! And so the question: _Is that what criticism has been doing all this time?_ Did not Shakespeare also suggest that Cordelia was obeying her own set of morals–and look at what happened to her and her dad!?!
Now, irony aside, this is where the “we/I” part comes up and gets problematic. The largest question as I see the situation now: for what reason do we write? –> This is similar to one of the questions that I asked of the anthologies–those wheelbarrows, to be metaphorical for a moment–that I reviewed and took seriously before: for what reason are there anthologies? Royalty? Royalties? Reputation? “It’s a job”? A form of historiography? Yes. But now we know: a poetry book is also an anthology, an anthology _without_ politics, unless I guess the idea and practice of love have to be political. (There are _new_ concepts for anthologies—based on similarity, not sameness, of a social experience. Neil Garcia, Catherine Wagner, to name two. And there will be newer ones.)
A lot of critical questions I’ve brought up, I finally decided, could only be extended onto a continuation of a creative/productive/generous life if we “cultural workers” can develop and democratize an idiom of poetics–or at least that is what I have thought, maybe to keep writing poems that aren’t like some of the books you’ve described in your post. It seems that without an eye turned to poetics behind any cultural product, we’d be much too much in the dark, “trousers rolled” (Eliot) or not. In poetics, it’s never been a question of “for whom do you write?”, because in poetics, that question has been answered a long time ago. It has perhaps absorbed the question, because the hero died (see Kierkegaard for back-up and romance).
So the question of “for whom” belongs to criticism. For whom do you critique? For whom do you anthologize? For whom do you publish? For whom do you edit? For whom do you teach? Criticism is a service, as poetry and poetics never are. Poetics—and a lot of so-called Language Writing—have offered a way to do that. And Joshua Clover found a way to handle a lot of this critical thought lightly. I would venture that they, like us, know that lives are as instructive as all the books, which poets have known all along.
Yes, not just form, but, I agree, this damaged culture too. When a nation remembers June 12 as a mere holiday and no longer as a celebration of our country’s independence, something indeed is awfully wrong. And no number of dog tags or live rock performances or poetry readings will possibly ever get it right.
Or that Adam (or anyone else) chooses to scream and rant and name names in his writings is not the problem. I agree with Clover, the persistence of craft is the problem and it has become a fixture by which we routinely measure not only what gets written but also how our thoughts run and what “manners” we choose to value and how we deal with snipers and loudmouths. That training of sensibility that avoids conflict, or limits conflict to a literary device on the page, values emotions and “dating” more than logic and ideas, disregards contexts and trumps ethics as if the application of ethics itself is not contextual, etc, etc.
In other words, kung nakuha naman ang sinabi, ano pa ang problema?
The problem indeed is taste – the kinds of conversations we prefer. Not that being “gentlemanly” in conversations is too medieval and no longer has a place in this era of renewed capitalist recession. That we should talk only in hushed tones (kasi magagalit ang Mother Superior) or that our talk should be strictly idea-based (kasi magagalit ang mga matatalino) or that we should limit our talk to the people actually involved (kasi pag na-involve na ang iba/publiko, tsismis na ito at di diskurso) is too overrated. The young are flocking to the internet hindi lang dahil sa DOTA but also because it gives them that space to say what they really want to say plus the illusion that it levels the playing field.
But in the net as in the real world, people don’t really care much about “critical noise” (sabi nga, sa Pilipinas, marami na daw reklamador) unless na lang that critical noise drags certain names (institutions too, not just of persons) in the discussion. Tulad ng kuwento mo dito sa post na ito. Which simply illustrates that we could interminably write all those nice little poetics and poetries and stories and criticisms that we, maybe, all profess to care about and yet the sad truth is, it would never get the discussion ball rolling and our fingers clicking away on our Nokias and keyboards.
Halimbawa, who else is reviewing our books? Is it because we have only limited spaces for such to get published? Or is it because we have such limited spaces precisely because the thinking goes: who the fuck cares anyway?
Itong pagiging dedma, na mas malala pa sa swine flu, this widespread apathy, I guess, in art as in politics, is what affects/infects the scene and this nation most. In this age where the self remains guarded, caged, or is either still lost, its interests most paramount, mahirap talagang maging “committed”. Kaya nga maraming pautot na only via celebrating individuality may we resolve apathy and save a nation’s consciousness. Kaya nga maraming nakikiepal sa global warming, kasi feeling din nila, nararamdaman NGA nila ang init.
What is that on the horizon? Oh, you mean something extends beyond the gates of “personal affront”? Thank you for the questions, of which to name or not to name is ultimately not one. To insist on seeing it merely as such as well as to entertain the possibility that, yes, OK, perhaps, it is not personal and then to cling back to the kind of thinking that offers a salve to the bruised ego is what is injurious. What kind of sensibility therefore towards art, towards literature, criticism do we want to perpetuate? But even this question is perilous when the mind tends towards insularity, which we sometimes see as survival. Indeed, what sensibility as political beings do we wish to uphold and perpetuate and in this day and age? Which leads to another question–among the many questions here: that of risk. Surely there must be something we CAN imperil besides our ego. Surely there must be something more that we WANT to risk given the freaking apathy that surrounds us. One remembers Lear’s cry and injunction: Reason not the need! Indeed, how heartbreaking to reason the need.
heartbreaking nga, but that week-long thing from whenever proved that unfortunately it seems to be very necessary, and to ask what kind of sensibility … towards art, towards literature, criticism do we want to perpetuate? naman to me seems very unnecessary, especially after everything was said and done it looks to me to be utterly clear na most people don’t really go for the type of artistic/literary/critical sensibility that some of us think we need to have to be able to push this rocky rock up the hill (i mean, sa totoo lang, ilan ba sa daan-daang nagbasa ng mga sanaysay natin ang nagbasa ng mga ito out of intellectual interest at hindi para sa intriga factor ng mga ito?), as like you said, the human mind tends greatly towards insularity. hindi totoo yung notion na naturally curious ang tao (siguro kung bicurious, puwede pa), lalo na sa dami lang at sa variety ng panlilinlang na ginagawa/sinasabi natin sa sarili para majustify lang natin ang ating widescale and oftentimes willful ignorance ng maraming bagay at proseso ng mundo, ie, ayokong tanungin sa kanya kung mahal niya ba ako kasi ako di rin naman sigurado kung mahal ko ba siya, etc etc (at naturally, kasama rin dito ang post-jargon intellectual tally-hos na ginagawa natin sa page na ito). malamang ang sukatan na lang natin ng halaga ng mga panlilinlang na yan ay ang lawak at dami ng kabutihan na naidudulot nito sa buhay at mundo. naks, heartfelt.
sa pagsusulat naman at kritisismo, tingin ko kaya iwas ang tao sa rampant and brutal/honest na pagtsutsugi ng akda ay dahil 1) ang aktong pagsusulat ay isang natatanging intelektuwal na gawain, at di lang sa teoretikal na lebel kundi pati rin mismo sa aktuwal na pisikal na lebel, dahil ang pagsusulat, ie mga salitang isinulat sa pahina, ay ang pinakapuristang medium ng pakikipag-usap ng isang utak ng tao sa isa o marami pang ibang utak ng tao, ie, kung ano ang inisip mo, yun ang nakalagay sa pahina, at ang tanging hadlang lang naman talaga sa pagitan ng utak mo at utak ng iba ay ang abilidad mo sa pagpapahayag, ie husay sa pagsusulat; at 2) ang kritisismo ay isang gawain na mas higit pa ang pagiging intelektuwal kesa sa intelektuwal na gawain ng pagsusulat.
at 3) ang aktong desisyon ng isang tao para magsulat ay isang desisyon na nanggagaling mula sa ego, mula sa notion na ikaw bilang indibidwal ay may katangi-tanging opinyon o punto o salaysay o magandang imahen na nakita na kailangan lang talagang maitatak sa pahina na kailangan lang talagang mabasa ng ibang tao, ie hubris ang nagdidikta ng pagsusulat, at ang kahit anong bagay na magkukuwestiyon ng hubris na ito ay nararapat lang na huwag pagbigyan, na dapat itong durugin at gawing pulbo na ibubudbod sa batchoy na kakainin mo mamaya pagkatapos mo magcervesa.
so 1 + 2 + 3 = ayaw kasi ng tao (especially ng isang mayabang na tao, ie writer) na ikuwestiyon ang halaga ng sarili niyang pagiisip, lalo na kung ang gumagawa ng pagkukuwestiyon ay ang pagiisip ng ibang tao na mukhang mas marami pang alam kesa sa kanya, ie critic (at dito papasok ang ilang paguusap natin tungkol sa delikadong posisyon/trabaho ng isang kritiko sa proseso ng paggawa*), at dahil ayaw niya nga ito, ang maaari na lang gawin ay ihiwalay ang paggawa – writing – sa pagpuna – critisism – kaya’t ganyan na lang kahigpit ang paghawak ng mga manunulat sa notion na hiwalay ang isa mula sa isa, na di naaapektuhan ng isa yung isa, na alam naman ng lahat ng mga manunulat na dumaan sa kahit anong klaseng palihan sa mundong ibabaw ay isang hunghang na paninindigan (o paninindigan ng isang hunghang?).
at ang ironic naman sa sitwasyon na’to ay ang naturang surrender naman ng manunulat sa notion na siya ay isang tao of no real consequence sa takbo ng mundo, na hindi nakakaapekto/epekto ng utak/galaw/ugali/buhay ng tao ang pagsusulat at pagbabasa, ie hindi ako makata, o ako ay simpleng makata lamang, etc etc, na sa totoo lang ay false humility (o false humanity ba? haha, inside baseball) naman, lalo na kung ikukuwestiyon mo na nga talaga ang halaga ng pagsusulat nila tas ang reaksiyon nila dito ay ang pagreenforce ng mismong (kadalasa’y aesthetic na) halaga ng kanilang mga akda, pero ulit, naaapektuhan ng notion na’to ang eventually nagiging tuhog natin sa paggawa: ang nangyayari lang ay narerelegate ang pagsusulat bilang isang minor na sining, bilang isang bagay na kaya lang gawin ng may-kayang-gawin. kahit ang notion ng mga specfickers na we merely want to entertain ay isang pagrerelegate sa sarili at sa ginagawa bilang pang-aliw lamang, pampatay ng panahon habang nagpapahinga mula sa 9-to-5 mo, habang sa tingin ko naman, deep inside, ang nagpapakain lang naman ng notion na iyan – ang manunulat/pagsusulat ay isang maliit na bagay sa mundong ibabaw – ay ulit ang aprehensyon/takot/kaduwagan na kromprontahin ng manunulat ang sarili niyang limitasyon, or more accurately, ang limitasyon ng sarili niyang intellect. in short, ayaw niyang magmukhang bobo sa sarili niya, at sa harap ng ibang tao.
kaya maganda ang tanong na surely there must be something we CAN imperil besides our ego dahil, oo nga, surely, meron nga naman siguro, at para sa’kin, ang isa diyan ay ang art mismo, ang sining, at hindi lang ang sining natin, kundi ang sining in general. dapat siguro ang reverse ang mangyari, ano? na dapat marealise ng manunulat na mahalaga siya sa proseso ng lipunan, pero hindi siya mahalaga masyado na darating sa punto na hindi siya puwedeng kuwestiyunin ng ibang tao?
ayan. nakakatuwa pala na nakalaya na si kurimaw! awoo! woot! woot-woot!
* na ang kritiko ay me delikadong/peligrosong lupang kinatatayuan dahil bilang kritiko, kailangan niyang maging aktong mas matalino at mas bihasa at mas mayabang kesa sa manunulat, gustuhin man niya ito o hindi.
Nakakatuwa na ang marami sa mga puntong nabanggit sa blog entry at sa mga komento ay mga punto na nais ko ring ibahagi sa mga tuturuan ko ngayon sa klase sa malikhaing pagsulat, partikular doon sa isang klase na magtatangkang maging mas sensitibo sa artikulasyon ng kani-kanilang poetika.
Sa ngayon, malaki ang pagkiling ko sa pagbibigay ng pansin sa manunulat bilang “intelektuwal,” isang taong nagkaroon ng sapat na akademikong pagsasanay sa–pero posibleng hindi naman sa anyo ng isang Creative Writing Degree–malikhaing pagsulat. Sa pagtrato sa manunulat bilang bahagi o iniluwal ng akademya, madali nang malalampasan ang mga bagahe ng pagtingin sa pagsusulat bilang simpleng pagsusulat lamang. Sinasabi kong madaling malalampasan ang ganitong pagtingin dahil sa mismong mga classroom din ituturo ang esensya ng ideolohiya, naisasakonteksto ito sa anyo ng mga diskusyon sa klase at mapatutunayan sa pamamagitan ng mga konkretong historikal na halimbawa na oo, may epekto sa lipunan ang mga proyektong umaandar sa ideolohikal na antas (dahil kung wala, hindi iba-ban ang mga comics na punung-puno raw ng sex and violence dahil sa kino-corrupt nito ang kabataan, hindi pipigilan ang pagpapalabas ng “Angels and Demons” sa mga sinehan, hindi pagbibintangan ang MTV para sa pagiging maiksi ng pasensya ng mga taong nabuhay sa ganitong henerasyon, etc. etc.). Dito rin mabilis na matututunang anumang diskusyon ang magmula sa malikhaing proseso ng paglikha ay may malaking posibilidad na may direkta o immediate na epekto sa kakaunting bilang ng tao lamang, hindi ito isang katotohanan na magiging dahilan para magmukmok sa isang sulok, sa halip ay magiging driving force pa para sa manunulat/ kritiko na lumikha ng mga proyektong nakatarget na lumampas sa kahong kumukulong sa 7-8% ng mga Pilipinong may access sa mga akademikong institusyon. Ituturo ng akademya ang presensya ng dinamismo sa isang lipunan, at dahil dito’y pahahalagahan ng nagsusulat ang halaga ng paulit-ulit na pagsusuri sa sariling mga kakayahan at limitasyon pagdating sa pagsusulat, patuloy siyang gagawa ng mga akdang tutuhog sa kanyang mga partikular na adbokasiya, at gagawa siya ng paraan para ipagkasal ang anumang mga personal na adhikain sa mga mas malawak na paksang tinatalakay niya. Posible ring sa pagkilala sa manunulat bilang intelektuwal, matumbok din ang realisasyon na may halaga ang pagsusulat, pero may halaga din ang iba pang mga pulitikal na gawain. May mga puwersang mas malaki at posibleng may epekto din sa personal na danas at sensibilidad.
Tungkol sa critical noise, well, madalas naman ay negatibo ang impresyon natin sa ingay. Pumapasok nga ngayon sa isip ko ang isang araw na naglalakad ako sa overpass ng Philcoa pagkatapos ay may obrerong nagbagsak ng buhat-buhat niyang steel beam sa tapat ko. Siyempre maingay, nagulantang ang tenga, at halos buong araw na akong iritable. Ganoon siguro ang pagtingin ng maraming tao, na ang ingay ay nakadisenyo para mang-irita lang. Pero yun nga, marami na namang umaral niyan, maraming magpapatunay na may lugar ang mundo para sa “ingay,” sa pagkaistorbo, sa pagkayanig ng mga nakasanayan. “Disruption” ang ginagamit na termino ng guro ko noong nagtatalakay siya tungkol sa pop music, ikinuwento niya na ang mga pinakainteresanteng klase ng mga kanta para sa kanya ay mga kanta na may ihinahaing kung anumang lebel ng disruption na ito–sa pisikal na ingay, sinadyang di pagkakatugma ng melodiya sa titik, konradiksyon sa genre (Punk Goes Pop Albums atbp.), mga kantang nakasanayan na sa isang wika na maririnig sa bagong wika (maraming asar sa “Bleeding Love” o “Low” na Pinoy version, pero marami ring natatandaan ito), ang mga ganitong pagkaistorbo’y mas nakakapukaw ng atensyon kesa sa mga paulit-ulit na awit ng di nasukliang pag-ibig, friendship, family, the usual.
At baka ganito rin pagdating sa paglikha ng mga malikhaing akda, at sa kritisismo nito. May mga takot/ ayaw/ naiirita sa pagkaistorbo, kasi ang pagtrato nila sa kritisismo ay isang malaking pang-iirita (na pwede naman din, depende kasi talaga sa motibasyon at disenyo ng pagsusuri). Bakit takot/ ayaw/ naiirita? Ang natutumbok ko lang na malinaw sa akin, sa ngayon, ay ang matinding pagkasanay sa kung ano ang tahimik at komportable na maikakabit din sa isang certain level ng pagtingin sa akda bilang obheto ng mahika. Tipong pag binaklas kasi ang malikhaing akda, masyado nang magmumukhang mekanikal, scientific, nawawala na ang magic ng paglikha, ang di maipaliwanag na mistikal na pakiramdam ng pagkakuntento–itong mistikal na pakiramdam na magsasabi sa manunulat na tapos na/ kumpleto na ang kanyang akda. Pakiramdam ko ay may sakit naman talaga sa pagkakaalam na may isang kritikong lilikha ng layout ng iyong malikhaing proseso, lalo pa’t papatawan ang proseso ito ng mga akusasyong hindi mo naman nasa isip o hindi mo inaasahang mahuhugot mula sa iyong sariling pagkatha. Masakit maakusahang hilaw pa ang iyong akda, o bulok, o hinog sa pilit. At alam kong medyo nagmi-mixed metaphors moment na ako, pero sana nakakatawid pa rin ang kung ano ang nais sabihin.
Pwede ring mas simple. Baka natatakot tayong nasa linya ng pagsusulat na ma-figure out nang ganoon kadali ang kanya-kanyang writing process at poetics. Kasi, pag masyadong madaling matutukoy, pag masyadong madali ang iskema ng paglikha, pag hindi pinaghirapan, baka maakusahang mas mababa ang halaga nito. Naaalala ko ang isang bahaging binanggit sa entry kinokomentuhan natin, tungkol doon sa paglikha ng mga sanaysay na nasa “all about me” mode, na masyado itong madali at marami-raming mga nagsusulat sa Amerika (at mukhang sa iba’t ibang mga suri ng kakilala’t kaibigan ay nangyayari rin sa Pinas) ang gumagawa ng mga ganitong libro’t antolohiya. Ang mga tipo ng sanaysay na ginawa at ginagawa ko sa ngayon ay posibleng suriin at lapatan ng ganitong paghahayag.
Na hindi na rin masama. Kung totoong pumapanig ako sa kaintelektuwalang sinasabi ko’y itatrato ko ang mga ganitong suri bilang katig sa mga susunod na proyekto. Mapupuwersa akong aralin at paulit-ulit na suriin ang mga paksang tinatalakay ko, at kung paano ko ito inilalapat sa panulat. Matitimbang ko kung bakit may mga nagagawa akong padron sa pagsulat ng sanaysay na baka hindi ko ginagamit sa paglikha ng mga maikling kuwento. Minsan, sa isang diskusyon, naitanong sa akin bilang pagsusuri sa mga klase ng piyesang non-fiction na nalilikha ko, bakit raw hindi ko nalalapat ang mga taktikang ginagamit ko sa non-fiction patungo sa fiction. Naisip ko, oo nga, bakit nga ba. Alam kong walang masamang patutunguhan ang ganitong pagtawag ng atensyon.
Mas mas simple (na komplikado), baka sarap na sarap lang at sanay na sanay na lang talaga ang napakaraming tao sa mga ilusyon ng kasimplehan, katahimikan at kapanatagan na ikinakampanya ng napakaraming mga ahensya. Bakit nga naman gagawing komplikado ang simpleng buhay? Siyempre pwedeng isagot diyan, why not? We have the time and we have the resources, at alam nating pwede nating gawin ito nang may ginagawa pang ibang mga proyekto. Hindi naman natin paiikutin ang mundo natin sa kritisismo lang di ba?
Mukhang kailangan ng kritikong mag-assume ng stance na matalino/ may talino siya, kasi marami siyang mga mabigat na akusasyong kailangang patunayan. Pero yun ang magic ng manunulat/ kritiko na kinikilala ang kanyang intelektuwal na kapasidad, yung magic ng pagkilala sa pangangailangang magpaka-objective sa pinakaobjective na paraang kaya niyang gawin para sa isang malikhaing akda. Tatangkain niyang ipasok ang lapit na siyentipiko–paglalapat ng mga suliranin, pagsusuri ng mga variable sa iba’t ibang kondisyon, pagtataya ng isang lohikal, sensible na konklusyon base sa mga datos. Sinasabi kong may “magic” sa ganitong approach kasi, sa ganitong pag-atake’y kinikilala rin ang pagkabukas para sa mga counter-investigation. Ang matalinong intelektuwal na kritiko’y bukas para sa mga matalino, “siyentipikong” interogasyon. Handa siyang ipahiram ang kanyang mga pagsusuri upang masuri ng iba, at umaasa siyang mula sa serye ng mga kontra-suri na ito’y mahuhugot ang mga kaalamang may silbi sa ginagalawan niyang lipunan. At muli, bilang bahagi ng isang akademikong institusyon, ng intelegensia, alam niyang ang mga kaalamang ito’y may resultang maaaring hindi magpapakitang-bunga sa mabilisang antas. Pero may epekto, palaging may epekto.
Kaya siguro sa mga pagkakataong nagiging saksi ako sa mga presentasyon ng papel o pagsusuri o pananaliksik, palagi kong hinahanap ang ganitong kritikal na lapit. Yung may imbestigasyon/ interogasyon, yung may pagpuna ng mga butas, yung may lohikal na paliwanag sa mga butas na ito’y may ihinahain na panawagan sa pagtugon sa mga butas na natukoy. Nahihirapan akong ma-appreciate sa ngayon ang mga pagsusuring nasa antas ng paglalapat ng mga konsepto. Kahit na mahalagang proseso ito ng akademikong pag-usad, minsan ay mahirap maging kontento sa simpleng konseptuwal na paglalapat.
Mukhang mahirap din maiwasan ang banggaan ng ideya na aabot sa antas ng pagkuwestiyon ng kanya-kanyang talino. Isang epekto rin marahil ng akademya, bilang Kindergarten pa lang ay tinuturuan na tayong walang ibang mas mahalaga kundi makuha ang mga star at gold medal mula sa mga kaklase natin. Kaya definitely may maririnig tayong mga statement na “sino ba siya para manghusga ng maganda o pangit,” o kahit na simpleng “sino ba siya?”
Iyon lang muna. Salamat sa mga batuhan ng ideya rito’t nailagay din ako sa posisyon ng paghahayag ng mga palagay kong kaugnay sa mga naibahagi. Siyempre, kibakabahan ako sa mga posibleng tugon, pero kailangan na yatang panindigan para patunayang naniniwala ako sa lahat ng mga sinabi ko. Gaya ninyo, isasabay ko na ang mga ganitong klase ng pagsusulat sa mga isinusulat nating kanya-kanyang tula, dula, kuwento, pagsasalin, at iba pa. Kitakits!
me ilan pang punto si vlad na mababasa dito > http://dirtypopmachine.multiply.com/journal/item/248
habang ang dagdag ko naman dito ay ilang katanungan lang na biglaang sumulpot sa utak ko nung binabasa ko ang mala-arabong komento ni vlad:
1) Ang natutumbok ko lang na malinaw sa akin, sa ngayon, ay ang matinding pagkasanay sa kung ano ang tahimik at komportable na maikakabit din sa isang certain level ng pagtingin sa akda bilang obheto ng mahika. Pero bakit nga ba merong ganitong klaseng “movement” sa pagsusulat na nagtatangkang imistify ito, at bakit kaya yun ang defined perimeter ng comfort zone nito? Ang spirit-fingerings na ginagawa ng ganitong klaseng pagpalaganap ng paliwanag sa proseso ng malikhaing pagsulat ay kasing-alienating rin lang ng paggamit ng jargon ng karamihan ng mapanuring pagsulat, at sa totoo lang, yun lang ang nakikita kong punto ng paggamit ng jargon at paggamit ng mahika ng malikhaing paggawa: figurative spirit-fingerings ng alienation at romanticisation. Pero: saan ito papunta? Para saan ito, at para kanino?
2) Ang matalinong intelektuwal na kritiko’y bukas para sa mga matalino, “siyentipikong” interogasyon. Handa siyang ipahiram ang kanyang mga pagsusuri upang masuri ng iba, at umaasa siyang mula sa serye ng mga kontra-suri na ito’y mahuhugot ang mga kaalamang may silbi sa ginagalawan niyang lipunan. Totoo, pero kay lungkot na mukhang di ito malinaw sa maraming tao na nagsusulat o nagbabasa ngayon. Ang gulong ng paggawa ng Kultura ay gulong nga naman, na di ko pa rin talaga naidadigest kung “mabuti” ba o hindi, pero firm ako sa paniniwala ko na ang isa sa pinakamalaking pagkukulang ng literatura ay ang fact na hindi pyramidic ang progress ng production nito: imbis na makita ang tradisyon bilang pundasyon ng mga bagay na maaari nating gawin pa sa ibabaw nito (= scientific), nakikita ang tradisyon bilang isang relihiyon na kailangang respetuhin at sundin at kadalasan ay gayahin (= mystical). Di naman either-or proposition ang binibigay ko, pero ulit: para saan ito? Para kanino?
At si Carljoe Javier, via SMS, ay nagmuni-muni na sana’y makisangkot sa mga usaping ito ang mga kritikong hindi manunulat kundi purong kritiko lamang. Ang tanong ko ay: meron pa bang mga ganung klaseng kritiko? At kung meron man, concern ba nila ang ganitong klaseng mga isyu?
Ang pagkakakilala ko kasi sa mga purong kritiko lang ay largely taxonomic ang diskarte sa ginagawa, at hindi masyado nakikihalubilo sa mga diskusyon na ang hagod ay ang Whys and Wherefores ng malikhaing pagsulat. Pero masaya ako kung mali ako sa puntong ito. Marami naman nang nagbago sa curriculum ng mga unibersidad na nagooffer ng Comparative Literature, at ang alam ko ay enforced na sa mga estudyante ng CL na kumuha ng writing units, para maranasan nila ang pakiramdam ng aktong paggawa ng teksto na padadaanin sa pagsusuri. Pero, ulit: para saan ito? Para kanino?
In any sort of writing, I’ve always (recently) only looked for fun, even if the work were some tragic exposition of grief. Fun in the spirit of play, where I actually favor formal cleverness over, say, cogency of argument. (Maybe it’s the ‘pataphysics fanboy in me now.) I guess this is why I never really felt the divide between the creative & the critical: everything creative is always a critique of what is there & what has come before it, & every critique is always a creative undertaking. Ironically, even dry jargon-filled discourse can be fun, if only for the dork w/in, whether it can be understood or not.
I’m not sure how this comment contributes here. Just that I don’t see why the tone of Adam’s writing — as 1st mentioned by Mark — takes away rather than adds to the value of his criticism. Must a critique always be clear & ‘transparent,’ as if spoken by some disembodied 3rd person omniscience? Most of us have gone thru (some still going thru) the phase where we try to erase the cohesive ‘I’ persona in poetry, only to find out in the end that there is no way we can radically erase this symbolic Self, no way for poetry to be completely mechanical even if we deliberately make it mechanical. Why can’t we appreciate the same tainted ambiguity in criticism?
Was in the thick of syllabus-making when the void came to life in this thread so I couldn’t join the discussion right away. But it was really helpful having your comments in the background while conceptualizing my lit and workshop nonfiction courses for the semester. Luminaw lalo ang mga bagay na kailangan problemahin at pag-isipan.
As someone who loves genre-benders and hybrid forms, I of course see far more potential in dissolving the divide between the creative and critical rather than fortifying their separate compartments. The creative is critical and the critical is creative; they exist simultaneously and need not cancel each other out. To see one as not the other or without the other seems to belittle what one can accomplish in a text. I think the insistence on compartmentalization comes from the “magic” Vlad mentioned–one who views writing as magical, mysterious, possible only if one is in some sort of trance, drugged out, inspired, etc. would logically (or a-logically ba?) resist being subjected to or engaging in clear-eyed, rational, empirical study. Certainly there is the magical/ineffable/unknown/donee in writing, but not all of it is necessarily done with the decisive mind turned off (and even if it is, that in itself is a statement, and is not exempt from critique). And criticism, in exposing the mechanisms or processes of this decisive mind as laid out on the page, doesn’t automatically slaughter the mystery that animates a text. At actually yun rin nga yung masaya, kasi kapag hanep lang yung akda, may hangganan ang pagpapaliwanag kung ano nga ba ang ginagawa niya, may punto pagkatapos ng isang katutak na daldal na mapapabuntong-hininga ka na lang at sasabihin mong basta, hay, ang ganda niya.
Gelo mentioned the possibility of celebrating rather than shying away from the blatantly subjective “I” in criticism and I very much agree. The problems and risks of doing so are many, as recently confirmed. The blatantly subjective “I” invites disagreement, at ano naman ang masama dun? I remember sitting in the library a few months back to read a collection of reviews covering the local dance scene for an upcoming dance racket at naubos ang pasensya ko sa diarrhea ng paulit-ulit na majestic o splendid o superb o magnificent performance by [insert name of dancer or dance company here]. By the end of it, wala akong natutunang kahit ano tungkol sa iba’t ibang dance productions dito. Hindi ako napaisip ng kahit ano. Now that’s mechanical. Hindi naman kailangang maging kontrobersyal, pero kailangan namang may itaya, at pwede itong mangyari sa mismong paglalarawan ng tekstong sinisiyasat. Read a random dance review about Karole Armitage recently (may funny reference yung reviewer sa “useful boyfriends” ni Armitage, dalawang pomo artists na nakatulong sa artistic development niya, but I digress) at namangha ako sa description ng isang performance kung saan naka-five-inch spike heels si Armitage at dun sa sayaw, the heels repeatedly grazed her partner’s head. Basta, ang ganda ng description, na-imagine ko talaga. Yun yung uri ng paglalarawan na may silbi sa mambabasa, na may respeto sa bagay na sinusuri dahil alam mong pinag-isipan at isinatitik ang napanood at hindi lang basta sinasabi na majestic o splendid siya.
Anyway. Scored big time sa book-and-dvd sale sa CNB nung summer and picked up an anthology of transition, the English-language mag founded by Eugene Jolas in Paris in the 1920s a.k.a that mag that serialized Finnegans Wake a.k.a. (nakakatawa ito, kasi nga todo pinagtanggol nila ang Finnegans) The James Joyce Adulation and Interpretation Union, Local 69. Their initial manifesto is a 12-item list with parentheticals from Blake’s Proverbs in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, which goes to show how easy they are to love. Ang point ko lang naman (aside from proud ako na nahanap ko ang libro na ito for P100, oh yes) ay ang statement ni Jolas tungkol sa submissions: “We are not troubled by manuscripts we do not understand.” Mabi says, “Surely there must be something we CAN imperil besides our ego. Surely there must be something more that we WANT to risk given the freaking apathy that surrounds us.” The Jolas submission guideline can easily be dismissed by some for opening the door to all things pretentious or trendy or pa-different, but with that open door also comes genuine experimentation, actual risk. It asks to be surprised and shaken. It is willing to concede that it does not know everything and is eager to be taught and willing to be proven wrong. It is this kind of openness we need more of, I think. We tend to be protective of what is familiar because it confirms us. The risk, of course, is admitting that what doesn’t look like you (i.e., your work) can be just as meaningful (or more), just as surprising (or more), and isn’t a threat to your existence.
Ilang salita mula kay Linda Gregerson hinggil sa paksa:
“Mere yes or no voting on new books or old reputations is not enough. Engaged reading, on the other hand, can be very helpful–it can call attention to the existence of significant new work and revive or revise our understanding of older work, offering an account of its parameters, its distinctions, its psychic and formal paths of movement, the means by which it generates shape and meaning and cognitive momentum… The most powerful praise is indistinguishable from analysis and may well include trenchant critique or reservations. Worthy critique will evince the same measure as good faith as will praise. Worthy praise and worthy critique will both have resonance far beyond the particular poems at hand.”
Mapalad tayo at may katulad nina Chingbee at Adam na nag-aalay ng panahon sa ganitong gawain. Napapaisip tayo at napapatanong. Nasisimulan at naipagpapatuloy ang mga talakayan na kinakailangang gatungan nang gatungan tungo sa pagsulat na hindi mapapakali, hindi mapipirmi. Pagsulat na nakatanaw na sa darating-pa.