Robinson Jeffers, Poet of California

Rating:
Summary: James Karman's Robinson Jeffers, Poet of California
Review: While building his home on rugged Carmel Point, by himself Robinson Jeffers rolled granite boulders, sometimes in excess of four hundred pounds, to the construction site. The home eventually named the "Tor House" towers intact to this day, which is appropriate considering the gradual re-emergence of Jeffers' popularity in recent years. Perhaps as much or more than any other poet, a critical biography is needed to fully appreciate Jeffers' poetry because it is so closely tied to how he lived his life-why he chose to roll those granite boulders and then apprentice himself to the stonemason who set them. In fact, in Robinson Jeffers Poet of California, James Karman concentrates on the construction of the Tor House as a major turning point in Jeffers' career. Jeffer's wife, Una, wrote a letter describing the power of the experience: "As he helped the mason...he realized some kinship with the granite and became aware of strengths in himself unknown before(48)." Karman effectively concentrates on this link between poet and his life throughout this critical biography. Jeffers does not reveal himself in the intensely personal manner of a "confessional" poet, for instance. Writing along with such major figures as T.S. Eliot and addressing the cruelty of modern civilization in the wake of the first World War, the de-personalizing effects of societal convention were under intense scrutiny. As Karman notes, though, while Eliot wrote poems with mythology primarily found through reading, thus allowing himself the advantage of critiquing society in terminology and myth his often elite audience was already familiar with, Jeffers by contrast "found what he was looking for primarily through an immediate experience of nature (68)." This is the admirable risk of Jeffers' poetry. Line after line, it refers to the power of experience beyond the exclusive mental and physical boundaries of modern human life. Yet, poetry based on life beyond modernity is on a collision course with critical canons that have a strong penchant for intellectualism. Perhaps lines such as "Humanity is the mould to break away from" found in Roan Stallion, explain as much as anything else the abrupt rise and fall of Jeffers' popularity. Tamar and Other Poems was first printed by Jeffers at his own expense. Nothing came from the effort and four hundred and fifty volumes were shipped back to Carmel and stored in the attic of the Tor House. A poem of Jeffers was later selected as the title piece of an anthology put out by the Book Club of California. Thankful for the selection, Jeffers sent two of its editors, James Rorty and George Sterling, copies of Tamar and Other Poems. A series of glowing reviews followed, and as Karman puts it, "Suddenly, Jeffers was famous (73)." But with the publication of The Women at Point Sur in 1927, just two years after the steady praise for Tamar and Other Poems, Jeffers was "denounced by even his more ardent admirers (120)." More than the comments on stylistic inadequacies, what seems more damaging in the long run are the references to "the sickness" of Jeffer's world. I must say, as a reader exposed to a good chunk of Jeffers' poetry by way of Karman's generous citations, I got frustrated with some of the work myself. It seems that at some points, Jeffers is too ready to indict humanity, justifiably on many counts, but at the expense of offering a vision that goes beyond articulate condemnation. I longed to see Jeffers' call "to love beyond humanity" to then return to love the potential of that animal. "Not to be deluded by dreams," as Jeffers says in "The Answer," but also not to negate the significance of dreaming all together. I anticipate other readers being similarly frustrated on these grounds. A poet such as Gary Snyder, who acknowledges the realities facing human existence but comes away with a much more hopeful conclusion, may seem a more attractive extension of Jeffers' honesty. Another strength of Karman's review is that he doesn't contrive a defense for Jeffers. This may seem an obvious quality of any good critical biography, but one can understand the temptation to protect work suffering from as much unjustified obscurity as that of Jeffers'. Karman knows Jeffers wouldn't want to be protected. No other poet has ever slammed humans so hard into their own insignificance. And with Robinson Jeffers Poet of California, to his credit James Karman lets you feel "the blow." The fact that Jeffers still found it meaningful to write from even his most grim state of revelation is one of the most positive acts in American poetry to date. Regardless of whether or not he was consciously able to gain comfort from his affirmation of life, Jeffers was both bashing dreams while also quietly clearing the way for new ones.

Rating:
Summary: James Karman's Robinson Jeffers, Poet of California
Review: While building his home on rugged Carmel Point, by himself Robinson Jeffers rolled granite boulders, sometimes in excess of four hundred pounds, to the construction site. The home eventually named the "Tor House" towers intact to this day, which is appropriate considering the gradual re-emergence of Jeffers' popularity in recent years. Perhaps as much or more than any other poet, a critical biography is needed to fully appreciate Jeffers' poetry because it is so closely tied to how he lived his life-why he chose to roll those granite boulders and then apprentice himself to the stonemason who set them. In fact, in Robinson Jeffers Poet of California, James Karman concentrates on the construction of the Tor House as a major turning point in Jeffers' career. Jeffer's wife, Una, wrote a letter describing the power of the experience: "As he helped the mason...he realized some kinship with the granite and became aware of strengths in himself unknown before(48)." Karman effectively concentrates on this link between poet and his life throughout this critical biography. Jeffers does not reveal himself in the intensely personal manner of a "confessional" poet, for instance. Writing along with such major figures as T.S. Eliot and addressing the cruelty of modern civilization in the wake of the first World War, the de-personalizing effects of societal convention were under intense scrutiny. As Karman notes, though, while Eliot wrote poems with mythology primarily found through reading, thus allowing himself the advantage of critiquing society in terminology and myth his often elite audience was already familiar with, Jeffers by contrast "found what he was looking for primarily through an immediate experience of nature (68)." This is the admirable risk of Jeffers' poetry. Line after line, it refers to the power of experience beyond the exclusive mental and physical boundaries of modern human life. Yet, poetry based on life beyond modernity is on a collision course with critical canons that have a strong penchant for intellectualism. Perhaps lines such as "Humanity is the mould to break away from" found in Roan Stallion, explain as much as anything else the abrupt rise and fall of Jeffers' popularity. Tamar and Other Poems was first printed by Jeffers at his own expense. Nothing came from the effort and four hundred and fifty volumes were shipped back to Carmel and stored in the attic of the Tor House. A poem of Jeffers was later selected as the title piece of an anthology put out by the Book Club of California. Thankful for the selection, Jeffers sent two of its editors, James Rorty and George Sterling, copies of Tamar and Other Poems. A series of glowing reviews followed, and as Karman puts it, "Suddenly, Jeffers was famous (73)." But with the publication of The Women at Point Sur in 1927, just two years after the steady praise for Tamar and Other Poems, Jeffers was "denounced by even his more ardent admirers (120)." More than the comments on stylistic inadequacies, what seems more damaging in the long run are the references to "the sickness" of Jeffer's world. I must say, as a reader exposed to a good chunk of Jeffers' poetry by way of Karman's generous citations, I got frustrated with some of the work myself. It seems that at some points, Jeffers is too ready to indict humanity, justifiably on many counts, but at the expense of offering a vision that goes beyond articulate condemnation. I longed to see Jeffers' call "to love beyond humanity" to then return to love the potential of that animal. "Not to be deluded by dreams," as Jeffers says in "The Answer," but also not to negate the significance of dreaming all together. I anticipate other readers being similarly frustrated on these grounds. A poet such as Gary Snyder, who acknowledges the realities facing human existence but comes away with a much more hopeful conclusion, may seem a more attractive extension of Jeffers' honesty. Another strength of Karman's review is that he doesn't contrive a defense for Jeffers. This may seem an obvious quality of any good critical biography, but one can understand the temptation to protect work suffering from as much unjustified obscurity as that of Jeffers'. Karman knows Jeffers wouldn't want to be protected. No other poet has ever slammed humans so hard into their own insignificance. And with Robinson Jeffers Poet of California, to his credit James Karman lets you feel "the blow." The fact that Jeffers still found it meaningful to write from even his most grim state of revelation is one of the most positive acts in American poetry to date. Regardless of whether or not he was consciously able to gain comfort from his affirmation of life, Jeffers was both bashing dreams while also quietly clearing the way for new ones.