Ethan Coen’s poetry book
Posted: April 17th, 2009 | Author: John | Filed under: True Stuff | Tags: cynicism, humor, philosophy, poetry | 3 Comments »Even though I’m living in a small Spanish city, I try to keep up with NPR’s latest stories on my daily bicycle commute with my iPod. Ethan Coen, of the Coen brothers, was interviewed on All Things Considered yesterday about his new book of poetry. It’s an understandably cynical take on how the world works, but it makes me smile in the same way that some of the Coens’ movies make me smile. It’s an interesting take on the Napoleons and Kubla Khans of this world. However, “Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea / But sad mortality o’ersways their power,” I have a feeling that the work of Ethan Coen will prove not only the might, but the longevity, of the pen over the sword. While I don’t think film will outlast literature, it is certainly the most powerful artistic medium we have today. Interesting though, that one of the most celebrated directors has turned to writing plays and poetry.
‘The Drunken Driver Has the Right Of Way’
The loudest have the final say,
The wanton win, the rash hold sway,
The realist’s rules of order say
The drunken driver has the right of way.
The Kubla Khan can butt in line;
The biggest brute can take what’s mine;
When heavyweights break wind, that’s fine;
No matter what a judge might say,
The drunken driver has the right of way.
The guiltiest feel free of guilt;
Who care not, bloom; who worry, wilt;
Plans better laid are rarely built
For forethought seldom wins the day;
The drunken driver has the right of way.
The most attentive and unfailing
Carefulness is unavailing
Wheresoever fools are flailing;
Wisdom there is held at bay; The drunken driver has the right of way.
De jure is de facto’s slave;
The most foolhardy beat the brave;
Brass routs restraint; low lies high’s grave;
When conscience leads you, it’s astray;
The drunken driver has the right of way.
It’s only the naivest who’ll
Deny this, that the reckless rule;
When facing an oncoming fool
The practiced and sagacious say
Watch out — one side — look sharp — gang way.
However much you plan and pray,
Alas, alack, tant pis, oy vey,
Now — heretofore — til Judgment Day,
The drunken driver has the right of way.
While I'm on this poetry kick, I have two more to share… two pretty stark contrasts on life-long marriage. From Spencer Reece of the New Yorker last week, and from Wendell Berry. First, Reece, then Berry.
The Long-Term Marriage
by Spencer Reece April 13, 2009, The New Yorker
At last she’s happy, reigning with her creams,
rubbing his scalp’s roof until it gleams.
As the squamous-cell carcinomas sprout,
the local dermatologist cuts them out
or frosts the lunar surface with liquid nitrogen.
The creams come from West Fourteenth Street, Manhattan,
FedExed from their adopted son’s boyfriend’s home,
a relationship that remains, to them, unknown.
Their Oriental rugs are steeped in piss
from the bulldog barking like an activist.
Bickering over misplaced books, the tchotchkes
lost, and how she re-remembers her stories,
they wait with an unfinished, finished look,
and note how honeysuckle crowns Old Saybrook
and thistles overrun their last garden.
The dash between their dates is nearly done.
To Tanya on My Sixtieth Birthday
by Wendell Berry
What wonder have you done to me?
In binding love you set me free.
These sixty years the wonder prove:
I bring you aged a young man’s love.
I found ‘The Drunken Driver Has the Right Of Way’ rather disappointing. While at times we struggle to understand why justice and right do not always prevail (cf. the Book of Job), I think it's terribly dangerous to simply push all manner of "ought" to the Day of Judgment. It may be true that the drunken driver has the right of way, but it is neither beautiful nor good. And if we assume that these three are always found together, we might conclude that the truth of this statement is superficial.
Good point, Aaron. That injustice often prevails is definitely a superficial "truth". But what intrigues me is that the medium of poetry itself is something that will outlast the injustices of the KublaKhans. I think the fact that we can laugh at violence, cruelty and misfortune (such as the Coens encourage us to do) is a double edged sword; it can be a triumphant celebration of a deep knowledge that what really matters is immaterial and untouchable, but this dark humor can also make us jaded and cynical about the ability to strive for justice in an imperfect world. I don't think Coen is encouraging us to push all manner of "ought" to judgement day. It's just a typically Coen wry wink at the injustice that shapes so much of our experience. At least it acknowledges a normative order.