Thoughts on "success," plus Favorite Books I've Read in 2011

The other day, I read an interview with one of my favorite poets, Bill Knott. In it, Knott goes on and on about how he is a failure who wishes he had chosen something to do with his life besides poetry. He provides "evidence" of his failure: No one has ever invited him to judge a poetry contest or teach at a conference. Publishers have continually rejected his manuscripts. He also mentions that although he has lived a life more challenging than that of most other poets (orphaned, spent time in an institution, etc.), he has failed because he hasn't been able to write poems about those experiences. He is so dissatisfied with the publishing world that he has become what he calls a "vanity publisher" of his work, posting everything on his blog.

Nonetheless, here is some different evidence: Since 1968, Knott has had 10 full-length books published. He received a Guggenheim Fellowship in 2003. He has taught at Emerson. Numerous poets, including Thomas Lux, Stephen Dobyns, and Denise Duhamel, have been influenced by his work. It's unclear whether anyone but Knott considers him to be a failure.

Yet The Institution of Poetry has not honored Knott the way it honors other poets, several of whom are lesser poets than Knott. This brings up a question about what constitutes success in art: Is it becoming a household name or producing transcendent work? If a poet writes several volumes of brilliant verse and shares it with no one, is he or she a failure? The expectation is that if you publish for a while, teach for a while, and influence for a while, you should receive proper recognition. Knott still remains a relative unknown, while perennial contest judges, speakers, and better sellers monopolize the limelight.

I still believe that a singular voice dominates The Institution of Poetry, a voice many high-profile editors want to hear, and voices outside that bland radius of homogeneity are often overlooked. Some of the risk-takers get lucky and poke through, but others get too frustrated and give up. The only failure of these poets who quit, though, is in recognizing their own intrinsic success. Those of us who love the eccentrics, originals, and/or visionaries need to talk more about people such as Knott--and introduce their work into our classrooms--before these poets go away and render discussions of their successes or failures moot.

Anyhow, I consider success to be work itself rather than institutional accolades, and, because I love lists, I wanted to provide my Favorite Books I've Read in 2011. Some of these are not new, but they were new to me this year. I have no idea if they have sold well or if their authors consider themselves to be successful. I certainly hope each of these poets has believed or will someday believe he or she has significant talent, if he or she doesn't already realize this. So here they are, in no particular order:

No Thanks, E.E. Cummings (Liveright, 1998): It bothers me greatly when I read the work of current poets who consider themselves "daring" or "experimental" when they seem to be copying this guy's voice, vocabulary twists, and other ideas from 70+ years ago. He might be the most influential poet today when it comes to stuff I like to read, and this book's title refers to the manuscript's initial rejection by 14 publishers.

Poems, 1963-1988, Bill Knott (University of Pittsburgh Press, 1989). I have said enough about Knott above. To read his work, go to your library and/or his website.

Looking for Jonathan, Jon Anderson (University of Pittsburgh Press, 1968). I found this book in the free bin at the Carnegie Library in my neighborhood. Free. The poem "On a Rainy Night, an Ape in Scarsdale, N.Y., Returns a Library Book" kind of pissed me off because I wished I had thought of something as fantastic as He carried the moon / like a book beneath his left arm.

Money Shot, Rae Armantrout (Wesleyan University Press, 2011). These poems provide commentary on the so-called Great Recession, tackling a number of subjects that seem to question the meaning of--have you figured out the theme of this column yet?--success or failure. Armantrout takes great risks here and always surprises.

Dick of the Dead, Rachel Loden (Ahsahta Press, 2009). I admit: I have an unhealthy obsession with Richard Nixon. Loden's poems aren't just for people like me, though. Nixon becomes a spokesman for present-day ironies, a mix of humor and horror, and we can all learn from present-day ironies.

Victims of Ted Bundy: Washington State and Oregon, Caitlin Elizabeth Thomson (Jeanne Duval Editions, 2011). These minimalist poems take the reader to a raw, uncomfortable place. They do what great poems are supposed to do: They suggest.

Letters from Room 27 of the Grand Midway Hotel, Margaret Bashaar (Blood Pudding Press, 2011). Bashaar has created Claire, an enduring persona in a world of decay. Poems take place in a haunted hotel, but we never question the slamming of windows or doors; we know they are real.

Thirteen Designer Vaginas, Juliet Cook (Hyacinth Girl Press, 2011). Cook plays with words the way most of us wish we could. Here, she comments on how far some people will go in the name of absurd vanity. These poems are fun and creepy, sometimes at the same time.

The Whiskey Rebellion, Jason Baldinger and Jerome Crooks (Six Gallery Press, 2011). I love collaborations, especially ones in which the writers create a seamless voice. Baldinger and Crooks play with our sense of history, mixing reality and myth without losing sight of humanity.

That's all for now. Happy holidays.
--DMS