I've been working my way through Russell Edson's The Tunnel over the last couple of days. It's on my book list so I could feel my way through some thinking about ecocrit/ecopo reaction to the surreal (or possibly dada, someone with more avant-gardist scholarship should let me know). I was discussing this briefly with M and Z next door; we're all big fans of Edson. I'm always struck by the emotional depth of the pieces, and I'm interested in how he manages this in a world that doesn't make conventional sense. Partly, he achieves this by having characters that are in positions that frustrate them, or where they're transformed into even worse creatures for what they want. Or, the situation is Pinteresque. Thus, the wild images are almost tranparently symbolic, on the order of allegory, myth, or fable. But the worlds he creates--and it's a new world with every poem--is entirely insular. Little bubbles set adrift. The back jacket copy draws a parallel with Cornell's boxes, and I think the comparison is (ahem) apt. So what do I see as an ecocritpo person? Ah, well, while I admire the artistry, I'm appalled by the distance. There's no connection to anything outside the poem. Very pretty, but to what end? Which raises the question about what poetry might be supposed to do, anyway. Nevertheless, Edson is engaged with symbols merely. The animals, the relationships, the nature that shows up in the poems is unconsidered. They exist merely to be moved around at the whim of the author. The poetry reveals very little about the world and suggests nothing in the way of how to think about it.
On the other hand, it's really fucking cool. If you haven't run across any, dig some out. You'll have a great time.
Comments