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The New York Street

Un blog lleno de historias

Autor

ulisesgonzales

Writer. Editor of the literary journal Los Bárbaros (New York) and Las Furias (París). Editor at Chatos Inhumanos Publishing House (New York). Professor at the Journalism and Media Studies Department, Lehman College, CUNY, Bronx.

A View of Anglophone Literature


Este fue mi intento por enlazar los cinco libros que leí para mi curso World Anglophone Literature.

Mi punto es demostrar que hay una conexión entre la lectura de grandes obras y la escritura de grandes obras. Que la calidad de lo que uno lee se manifiesta en lo que uno escribe. Ese es uno de mis objetivos al decidir estudiar literatura inglesa. Se puede hablar de la originalidad de un gran escritor pero no se puede negar que ellos tomaron esa magia creativa de las grandes obras que los formaron. Hay trazos de Dickens en el Middlemarch de George Eliot, hay rastros de Faulkner en Cien Años de Soledad y en la obra de Vargas Llosa. Hay Kafka en Coetzee y Shakespeare y Sófocles en todos los grandes escritores que alguna vez leyeron al dramaturgo inglés o al griego y se identificaron con los grandes temas de sus obras.

En los Versos Satánicos creí haber encontrado un homenaje de Rushdie a Othello, sin embargo resulta que también es un tributo a La Tempestad, a Hamlet, a Macbeth y a Julio Cesar. Y si hubiera leído más Shakespeare seguro que seguiría encontrando similitudes con los personajes, los temas y los escenarios del libro de Rushdie.

Los escritores que hemos leido este semestre se agrupan en lo que algunos intelectuales denominan el post colonialismo, como si la literatura inglesa fuera un yugo del que hay que liberarse para poder crear. Este trabajo prueba que una de las caracteristicas que agrupa a estos cinco autores, es precisamente su admiracion por autores «coloniales», por los maestros ingleses, cuya influencia se puede trazar con cierta facilidad.

Volvi a mencionarle a la clase que Garcia Marquez se sentiria ofendido si lo etiquetan de escritor post colonialista. Ya es bastante malo que lo consideren parte de un movimiento con un nombre tan feo como el Boom.

En la primera línea de Mitad de un sol amarillo de la nigeriana Ngozi, encuentro una línea que me lleva directamente hasta Don Quijote y en el principio de Dios de las cosas diminutas de Arundhati Roy, encuentro el homenaje no tan en clave a The Waste Land de T.S. Eliot.

Another Way of Criticism
By Ulises Gonzales

George Steiner says that the best answer to a work of art is another work of art (8). He says that “each performance of a dramatic text or musical score is a critique in the most vital sense of the term: it is an act of penetrative response” (7). He calls that “responsible criticism.” The five books that we have read for this class echo Steiner’s theory because they are creative answers to other books that the authors have read before.

Through the texts written by Azar Nafisi, we can find traces of the author’s readings. We can feel the love of Nafisi for Henry James and Vladimir Nabokov, her passion like her students for The Great Gatsby. We can feel the poetry of T.S.Eliot and the lyricism of English poets and Indian traditions in the world of Arundhati Roy. We can trace the passion for Robert Browning and the whole English literature in the books that Odenigbo gives to Ugwu to read in Ngozi’s Half of a Yellow Sun.

We can feel how Coetzee builds his own world starting from that images given in the original poem by Kavafis. And trough Salman Rushdie and his Satanic Verses, we can feel the powerful images of The Tempest when the plane crashes; we can see the witches of Macbeth operating under the disguise of demons and archangels and feel the hate of Iago coming trough the body of Saladin Chamcha calling the jealousy of Othello to destroy the life of Gibreel.

In reading these five books, certainly we are reading the books that inspired these authors, the ones that helped them to accomplish the task of writing their novels. Steiner writes that if there was a world without critics, the criticism would be practiced by the artists. These five authors, choosing their subjects, the voice to tell their stories, the structure of their plots and even the description of their characters; are exercising the task of a critic.

Nafisi judges the violent repression of women during the Fundamentalist regime of Iran, using the voices of Lolita and Daisy Miller. The freedom of Daisy is the example that she chooses to represent the possibilities of a woman with the freedom to defy the authority of society and the «rules» imposed by a certain society. Humbert is compared to the Ayatholla and their accomplices who hate what they love. Humbert can’t convince Lolita to love her, and then he uses his strength, and his power, to try to make her docile.

Roy starts her novel-poem with «May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month» (Roy, 3). Like an echo to «April is the cruellest month» of T.S. Eliot. Her description of that world of Rahel’s childhood, the allusion to the river as a source of life and death, to the water, to the rain, to Nature and the wilderness where the children play, is a direct translation from The Waste Land. Later in the book, Lenin is forced by his dad to recite: “Friend Roman countrymen” (Roy, 260). and many centuries of English scholarship enter in the story through the lines from Julius Caesar, as if literature were the tentacles that keep the world of Kerala attached to the Western world, as if Shakespeare was also one of the Gods of Roy’s universe. We should not forget the permanent references to Heart of Darkness, to Kurtz, to Conrad. Even the topics of Conrad’s novel are present in Roy’s book: love for humanity, madness, and the craziness of politics.

Ngozi is called the daughter of Chinua Achebe. Her topics, her description of Africa, follows the steps of that great African writer, but when Ugwu needs to read literature Odenigbo does not give him an African author but a poem by A.E. Housman (Ngozi, 77). Ngozi even starts her novel linking Odenigbo’s character and positive influence among his people with his experience with English books: “Master was a little crazy; he had spent too many years reading books overseas”(4.) On the other hand, the mention of “crazy” and “books” together in one sentence is not an accident either. From the very first paragraph of the novel, Ngozi is giving us a glimpse of the Quixotesque adventure of her characters.

J.M. Coetzee establishes his little world of Waiting for the Barbarians, following certain rules and images given by Kavafis. But his Barbarians belong to the universe of Kafka. There is an absurdity to the situation: criminals that nobody can see and a crowd betrayed by a powerful empire that acts like an invisible force creating fear among its inhabitants. The poems is from Kavafis but the whole creation is a product in the line of Kafka’s The Castle where nobody can see the ruler of the castle but he seems to be watching everybody’s actions.

The Satanic Verses is one of the finest tributes to the magic of Shakespeare’s characters. Certainly we can trace Rushdie’s readings and find similarities to Milton, the battle for the Paradise, and the fight of the angels against God: “challenging God’s will one day they hid muttering beneath the Throne, daring to ask forbideen things: antiquestions” (94). We can’t forget that in the Satanic Verses there is a permanent play with mutations and transformations. It seems to be a permanent conversation of Rushdie with Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

The references to Shakespeare’s plays are the core of the most important passages of the Satanic Verses. Among the crisis of the plane crash, Gibreel and Saladin manage to get to an island. Rushdie’s irony is that, in this case, the island is England: “these were the first words Gibreel Farishta said when he awoke on the snowbound English beach” (10).

Here the beautiful Miranda is transformed into an old cranky woman, who seems to have found the beauty of a perfect human being in Gibreel, imagining that he is her gaucho from a forgotten kingdom in the Argentina’s pampas. Julius Caesar and Othello are mixed when Gibreel has his first attack of uncontrollable jealousy. Allie tells Gibreel: “The picture of an honourable man” and Gibreel shouts violently: “Tell me at once who the bastard is” (326).

Postmodernism allows the writer to build a world using the fragments of the reality. Satanic Verses is Rushdie’s plan to build a world using fragments from many different sources. It is a “responsible criticism” to the world where he lives. There are references to television programs and to Bollywood movies, there are myths from popular culture and myths from the Eastern world.

There is also the possibility that Rushdie is trying to find the way to tell us a new story, knowing beforehand that “in an ancient land like England there was no room for new stories” (148).

Works Cited

Coetzee, J.M. Waiting for the Barbarians. New York: Penguin, 1980.
Nafisi,Azar. Reading Lolita in Tehran. New York: Random House, 2004
Ngozi, Adiche. Half of a Yellow Sun. New York: Knopf, 2007
Steiner, George. Real Presences. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1991
Roy, Arundhati. The God of Small Things. New York: Random House, 1997
Rushdie, Salman. Satanic Verses. New York: Picador, 1988

The thieves are in Baghdad

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Recuerdo que el 11 de setiembre, estando en Manhattan, me asomé detrás de un grupo de gente en un hotel de la Setima Avenida, frente a un televisor donde pasaban las primeras imágenes del segundo avión que se estrelló contra las torres gemelas (aún no se habían derrumbado). En ese momento, en el cual yo asociaba el lío terrorista con mis experiencias limeñas (el atentado a la IBM en que volaron los vidrios de mi casa, Sendero tratando de incursionar de noche al pueblo de mi mamá, mis excursiones al edificio destruído de Frecuencia 2 y a las ruinas de la calle Tarata) escuché la voz de alguien que decía «Esto significa guerra».

Me sorprendió mucho porque en mi cabeza subdesarrollada terrorismo significaba preocupación, esconderse, tomar previsiones. En la cabeza de los americanos, ataque significaba revancha, venganza, contestación. El ojo por ojo.

No todos los americanos piensan lo mismo. Pero los que tenían el control-y aún lo detentan-eran Bush y sus cómplices. Digo cómplices porque lo que en algún momento se quiso justificar como un intento de expandir la democracia al Medio Oriente cada vez queda más claro (y más turbio) que no ha sido más que una tremenda excusa para maltratar a un país ya de por sí maltrecho.

Acabo de leer que se está apurando una ley para que las compañías petroleras del mundo puedan entrar a explotar el petróleo de Iraq. Entre justificaciones patriotas y lloriqueos republicanos por dinero para los soldados, los americanos están presionando para que salga una ley que proteja la inversión privada (el petróleo fue estatizado en Irak en 1972). Así que ahora empieza el reparto del botín. Antes de que los demócratas decidan que el ejército tiene que irse de Irak. Antes de que algún fundamentalista decida que nadie tiene derecho a beneficiarse con jugosos contratos sin la aprobación del pueblo de Irak.

Y los republicanos que juraban que Irak sería un mejor país sin Saddam. Allí está el ejército, los soldados a cargo de la penosa tarea de resistir mientras las compañias petroleras se instalan en Baghdad y las oficinas de Exxon, Shell, Mobil, reemplazan a los cuarteles. Asegurar las ganancias es la consigna. Porque es muy fácil quemar una bandera nortemaericana, pero quien se meta a bombardear un grifo Exxon es un terrorista, eso es un atentando contra el sagrado libre mercado.

Toda el dinero que cierta familia ha ganado negociando los combustibles debería ser confiscado para reparar los daños que se le ha hecho a la imagen de la democracia en el mundo. Criminales que dictan leyes en Irak. Farsantes. Miserables.

Para terminar una noticia de hoy en msnbc. al parecer los robos son más burdos de lo que yo pensaba. Se roba a manos llenas en Baghdad. A muy alto nivel. Que nadie se vaya de Irak sin su millón de dólares en los bolsillos. No los soldados por supuesto, sino los de arriba, esos maestros en el arte de engañar.

In one example of insufficient controls, the United States stored hundreds of millions of oil dollars in a vault in a Baghdad palace. Government auditors found that the key to the vault was kept “unsecured” — in a U.S. official’s backpack.

Iraq’s U.S. administrator, Paul Bremer, pledged last year to hire a certified public accounting firm to ensure proper controls. But the United States gave the contract not to an accounting firm but to a tiny consulting company, Northstar — which NBC News found is headquartered at a private home near San Diego.

«They violated the rules. They picked a contractor who didn’t meet their requirements,» says Paul Light, a government contracting expert and professor at New York University.

Northstar’s president says the Pentagon knew Northstar was not a certified public accounting firm and that four experienced employees went to Iraq and did a good job. However, one audit notes that a single Northstar employee maintained spreadsheets tracking billions of dollars.

Bremer would not comment. His aides say Iraq is a war zone and their top priority was getting money quickly where it was needed, even if the accounting wasn’t perfect.

But NBC News has learned that a draft government audit faults the United States for “inadequate stewardship” of up to $8.8 billion in oil money, handed over to Iraq’s ministries but never fully accounted for.

En Riverdale, el Village y arriba de Yonkers, 8 de mayo


Pol dice que me puedo demorar un poco con el comic. Sabe que los historietistas se toman su tiempo. Salman Rushdie escribe contando pedazos de vida, todos sabemos que la culpa de la mala leche de los londinenses es el clima, asi que Gibreel (Otelo), estrella de Bollywood y a la vez mensajero del profeta, transforma las calles de Londres en una vereda tropical. Chamcha (Iago) ha cambiado el acento anglo por los cachos del diablo, en fin: Todo se transforma. Todo cambia. El mundo same old same old? No no no.

Estamos en la 287 llegando a Port Chester, pero para Frances todo lo que sigue de Riverdale es Yonkers. Lomo fino, helado de piña en piña, jalea mixta. En el nuevo Acuario. Cuenta todo Chino, a ver, ya sale el Token. Pero en digital porque no hay plata, ve tu a saber a donde se fue el dinero. Ahora tengo que escribir la nota sobre Granta y terminar la historia para el curso de Yood.

Le muestro a la clase la fotocopia que me ha llegado, en el sobre con el membrete de la British Library: publicado por Amalia Elguera en The Listener, la legendaria revista de la BBC donde W.H. Auden publicara sus primeros poemas y Virginia Woolf, E.M.Foster, George Orwell y Bernard Shaw colaborararan con frecuencia. Comienza tomar sentido esta vida incompleta. Hay dos grabaciones en la British Library, pero es caro hacer las copias. Elguera lee con una famosa intelectualy periodista londinense.

Ayer hemos estacionado en Bedford Street, no fue dificil. Un sitiecito al lado de la bomba de agua en plena esquina de Commerce. Precioso atradecer en las callecitas del West Village que ahora que lo pienso tienen un airecito a Barranco pero con mejor cielo y mejor luz. Ha llegado el dinosaurio casi una hora tarde, su amigo ha empezado a sudar con un poquito de picante en el tacu tacu. El primer asiento confortable en el Pardos Chicken. Frances dice que la siguiente vez no nos sentamos hasta que nos aseguren el booth. Parece que hay que ir de cuatro a comer al Pardos. Maricucha para Frances, algarrobina para mi. Pisco sour y ensalada con pecanas dulces y bollos de ese pollito que tu me regalaste.

Dice el Mocano que los mexicanos saben bailar salsa. Celebraron todos el cinco de mayo pero la verdad que el barcito en Riverdale Avenue estaba bastante aburrido. Una Guiness y a dormir y el sabado a dormitar. Visiones sobre la mesa del Acuario. Pechos gigantes.

Le digo a Amparo mientras me corta el pelo que ayer Carlos estaba en el sueño presentándome «¿No conocés a las dos artistas?» Y enmedio del sueño las dos mujeres preciosas, sentadas sobre la cama del que antes era mi cuarto en Brooklyn, dando una explicación que al despertarme recordaba palabra por palabra, claro que ya no. Van a remodelar la parada de la 59 y los peluqueros se van a quedar varados por 6 meses. «Apunte mi teléfono, por si se le antoja cortarse el pelo antes».

El almuerzo en el Whole Foods, «Eso me pasa por ser tan mañosa», dice Maryneli. En Filadelfia hay una casita donde podemos ir. Y porfa: organicemos las semanas cortas-de lunes a miércoles- para ir de viaje. Kayaks sobre el Subaru ( o bicicletas), camping en la playa, paseos a Maine o trekking en los cerritos de los Adirondack.

En Middlemarch hay mucho que decir entre el doctor Lydgate y el millonario Bulstrode, al que se le ha muerto Raffles. Creo que George Eliot está apurando el paso, no hay muchas de sus frases brillantes. Middlemarch está empapelada con frases hermosas, brillantes, con la filósofa Eliot que habla sobre la vida, la muerte y el trabajo que dignifica o envilece al hombre. En The Great Tradition, Leavis habla de la gran influencia de George Eliot sobre Henry James. Si bien James pretenda que se la ha pasado por alto.

William Carlos Williams under the influence



William Carlos Williams under the influence
Borrowing from The Cantos to write the greatest American epic

«Ain’t it enuf that you so deeply influenced my formative years
without your wanting to influence also my later ones?»

WCW’s letter to Ezra Pound, 12 April 1954 (1)

William Carlos Williams’s aim of writing an epic using as a raw material a small New Jersey city is very ambitious. Perhaps even more ambitious than Pound’s agglutination of eras and languages in the Cantos, or Eliot’s purpose to representing the decadence of the whole modern world in The Waste Land.

To write the 5 books of Paterson, Williams borrowed patterns and music from Eliot’s poems and ideas and sources from Ezra Pound. The rhythm and cadence of T.S. Eliot is everywhere in Paterson, and Pound’s Cantos is used by the Rutherford poet as a pattern to write his own big epic. Paterson is the “magnus opus that I’ve always wanted to do” as Williams call it in a letter to Pound in November of 1936.

The two poets that Williams disdained publicly most of his life are the ones he imitates the most. He was not happy about that influence, but he could not deny it either, as he says in this letter to Robert McAlmon:

Pound is] a one sided bastard if there ever was one, who has borrowed from everybody, including myself in the old days, but he’s done a good job, surpassingly good. And I’ve borrowed from him much more than I’ve given. Everyone has who has followed him. Yeats specially (qted, In Thirlwall, 220).

Pound’s influence is clear in all William’s first books. But by 1946, when he published the first book of Paterson, Williams thought that those influences had been erased and lost among the fabulous structure of his work. However, as the critic K.L. Goodwin says “ the one whose work has been touched at the greatest number of points by Pound, and the one who has shown the greatest ability to avoid mere imitation, is William Carlos Williams” (Goodwin, 144).

One of the main influences of Pound in Williams’s Paterson is the imagist theory of poetry. Paterson is full of images, from the beginning of the first book: the city-person is described using some of the best imagist lines written by Williams. Paterson certainly is an imagist epic, which has sudden changes of voices and breaks of verse, combined with long portions of prose. Goodwin connects this treatment of Paterson as Williams’s intention of using merely descriptions to generate sensations, avoiding any kind of subjectivity:

Many passages from Paterson are imagistic. The reason for the frequency of such passages may be that the whole poem is a symbolic treatment of man through the features of the city, Paterson, and as this symbolic connection is partly brought out through prose interludes, Williams felt that he could indulge in objective description without having to make the relationship between it and the theme explicit (Goodwin, 150-151).

When using certain images, Williams seems to be looking for them. He’s not getting what image he gets from inspiration and putting them into the poem. He seems to be looking for images that he needs to fit a certain plan. He seem to be looking for images to replace ones that he had seen before in other epic poems. Some of the images that Williams is looking for, seem to have their origin in The Cantos. I think that a good example of this kind of research is found in this lines from A Draft of XXX Cantos (1930):

City of patterned streets; again the vision:
Down in the viae stradae, toga’d the crowd, and arm’d,
Rushing in populous business,
And from parapet looked down
And North was Egypt,
The celestial Nile, blue deep,
cutting low barren land,
Old men and camels
Working the water-wheels
(Pound, 17).

The fragmented city of these lines of The Cantos, could be traced to the unreal city that T.S. Eliot evokes in The Waste Land. In Eliot’s poem there is an interest to describe poetically the interdependence of cities and water. The water manifestated as river, sea, or rain. There is a historical fact of dependance of cities and rivers. But there is also a pattern in the way Pound, Eliot and Williams use the relationship water-city, as in these lines from the Book One of Paterson (1946):

Immortal he neither moves nor rouses and is seldom
seen, thought he breathes and the subtleties of his
machinations
drawing their substance from the noise of the pouring
river
animate a thousand automatons
(Williams, 6)

The connection between the people of a city with the river and the implications of productivity and some kind of technological activity in Pound’s Cantos is there, even if transformed, in the verses of Paterson. The talent of Williams is that since Paterson is a city and a man at the same time, the figure of “populous business” of The Cantos kind of vanishes. In Paterson there is a transformation of the images coming from The Cantos. It is not very difficult to trace the steps of their change, however In The Cantos, The Nile river is a source of productivity, an instrument of “progress” who moves the water-wheels, while the “pouring” Passaic river and the “machinations” of Paterson are combined to move those thousand “automatons”. The technology is different, but both poems are connected by the idea of the river as an agent of transformation.

The particular talent of Williams is that he applies the technique of imagism not just to static objects. There is qualitative jump from the stillness of Eliot’s images in The Waste Land to the way Williams sees the world, as Goodwin writes:

Williams’s assimilation and adaptation of Imagism seems to me to be one of the most successful uses of the technique (…) He applied imagism not just to static images but to moving ones: to the swaying of the trees, the flight of birds, and the fall of water. As a result his imagistic poems lack the stillness that occurs in those of Eliot… (Goodwin, 151).

In addition, Williams used a group of personal letters in Paterson. He intercalates them through the poem. Some of these letters are the ones from the underprivileged mother of one of his patients, Marcia Nardi to which Williams points as the letters that helped him to unify some of the main topics of his epic. Nardi’s letters were very important to the purposes of Williams to fit some of the gaps of his “magnus opus,” as Paul Mariani details in William Carlos Williams A New World Naked:

Nardi’s letter would serve to recapitulate nearly all the major themes with which his autobiographical poem had been concerned: The woman as victim, complaining, accusing, crying out in pain; the divorce between the two sexes and the danger that the woman would turn to other woman for solace; the woman as the energy and the flower of a man’s life; the poem itself as a confession of inadequacy; the socioeconomic ills that had created so many of the tensions between men and women, making of the man a false nurturer and forcing the woman into an unnatural dependency on man (…) that letter turned out to be, as Williams would explain years later, a found object paralleling Eliot’s infamous use of footnotes at the end of The Waste Land (Mariani, 462-463).

What kind of “voice” was Williams looking for? A comparison between an excerpt from Nardi’s letter and a famous one from The Cantos, proves that maybe he was looking for more than a simple voice to explain his points. Williams was looking for a voice to match this famous letter from Pound’s Canto XXVI:

To the supreme pig, the archbishop of Salzburg:
Lasting filth and perdition.
Since your exalted pustulence is too stingy
To give me a decent income
And has already assured me that here I have nothing to hope
And had better seek fortune elsewhere;
And since thereafter you have
Three times impeded my father and self intending departure
I ask you for the fourth time
To behave with more decency, and this time
Permit my departure
Wolfgang Amadeus, august 1777 (Pound, 128).

Williams found the match, in this excerpt of a long letter from Nardi that he published at the end of Paterson’s Book 2 (1948):
The anger and the indignation which I felt towards you now has served to pierce through the rough ice of that congealment which my creative faculties began to suffer from as a result of that last note from you. I find myself thinking and feeling in terms of poetry again. But over and against this is the fact that I’m even more lacking in anchorage of any kind than when I first got to know you. My loneliness is a million fathoms deeper, and my physical energies even more seriously sapped by it; and my economic situation is naturally worse, with living costs so terrible high now (Williams, 89).

There is in both letters, a feeling of the anxiety from somebody with a creative mind, suffering a state of dependence, trapped in the hands of somebody who has the power to control his destiny. It is very interesting to deduce that in this playful use of Nardi’s letter, Williams is assuming the position of “The supreme pig.”

The different voices struggling in Patterson are the different Personæ that Pound brings into The Cantos. There is the remarkable similarity between the criticism of usury made by Pound in The Cantos and criticism that Williams made of usury. As Goodwin notes, Williams “was not yet ready to follow Pound by attempting to versify it but such an attempt was made in a vehement attack on usury” (Goodwin, 156.) Williams attacks usury in these lines from Book 2 of Paterson:

The Federal Reserve System is a private enterprise…a private monopoly… (with power)…given to it by a spineless Congress (…)
They create money from nothing and lend it to private business (the same money over and over again at a high rate of interest), and also to the Government whenever it needs money in a war and peace…
(Williams, 73)

This is a very similar point of view as the one of Pound about usury. But the similarity of ideas is not the most important to confront the borrowing of ideas from The Cantos.

The main point is that, like the idea of a river as the source of life for a city and main center of the economic activity, or as the anger of the creator against his master, many of the topics defined already by Pound in his A Draft of XXX Cantos from 1930, are present in Paterson.

It is true that Williams mastered the technique of imagism. Constraining his poem to the sources provided by documents about Paterson and people of New Jersey, he created a poem that is proudly 100% American in its content. But he was following some rules established by Pound. Old Ezra defined most of the topics that could be considered in a twentieth-century epic. Writing Paterson, Williams is filling the gaps, taking out European or Asian references and filling them with American elements.

In many ways, The Cantos is also a 100% American epic, because its creator is a product of the different brooks that shaped this country. And he is the original source. In many ways The Cantos is the blue Nile that running from above, higher than spires, higher even than the office towers watered the minds of many poets of this country and developed into brilliant poems like Paterson.

Bibliography

Breslin, James E. William Carlos Williams An American Artist. New York: Oxford University Press, 1970.
Goodwin, K.L. The Influence of Ezra Pound. New York: Oxford University Press, 1966.

Mariani, Paul. William Carlos Williams A New World Naked. New York: Mc Graw-Hill, 1981

Pound, Ezra. The Cantos. London: faber and faber, 1986.

Thirlwall, John C. The Selected Letters of William Carlos Williams. New York: McDowell, Obolensky, 1957

Williams, William Carlos. Paterson. New York: New Directions, 1995.

The Best Critical Essay


Ejem. Estoy muy orgulloso. Quisiera agradecer. No tengo palabras para..
Bueno, una breve ceremonia en el auditorio de la Art Gallery de Lehman College. La profesora Patricia Cockram se encargó de llevar una fotocopia de mis poemas para que yo se los leyera al pequeño auditorio (Yo que creía haberme salvado de eso). Y me entregaron dos diplomas. El de poesía por mis tres breves experimentos en inglés, mi mezcla de Li Po con Ingmar Bergman, García Márquez y Mircea Eliade. El otro, el que he puesto aquí, es el que mejor me hace sentir, porque es el premio al mejor ensayo crítico del programa de maestría del departamento de literatura inglesa: The Best Critical Essay in the Field of English or American Literature, por el ensayo que escribí el semestre pasado sobre las influencias de Ezra Pound y sus Cantos en el poema Paterson de William Carlos Williams. Un honor. Muy agradecido, muy agradecido, muy agradecido.

De aquellos sus versos


«Se murió Wata» me dijeron hace dos noches, y me agarré bien a mi botella de Corona medio llena. «Noo». Qué noticia. La persona que me lo dijo creyó que yo ya me había enterado. José Watanabe, uno de los mejores poetas vivos del Perú.

«Cáncer» me dijo mi amiga, entre uno y otro hot-dog a medias, en la esquina de calle West 4 con la Sexta Avenida. Y que todavía no podía creerlo. Sólo 61 años.

Recuerdo haber abierto a fines del 2006 El Guardián de Hielo, un libro más en mi pequeño estante de poemarios. Tenía la intención de releer algunos versos. No pude cerrar el libro hasta leer el último poema. Qué fascinante el poder de las imágenes convocadas por las líneas de Watanabe.

Hace una semana estaba buscando una foto suya para mi blog. Para ese artículo de Pedro Coronado en Mar con Soroche. Y recuerdo haber encontrado una foto suya, jovencito. Carajo, cómo pasa el tiempo.

Se murió el Wata. Iba a escribir sobre otras cosas, sobre Los Versos Satánicos y Rushdie, sobre el artículo de Diego Guerra para 68 Revoluciones. Será mañana.

WHAT’s NeXT? 25 WRITERS, 50 YEARS FROM NOW


La editorial Casanova (Darkover, USA) encargará a algunos de los 25 mejores escritores del planeta, que escriban una novela basada en un mundo ficticio, 50 años en el futuro. La editorial pretende publicar estos libros empezando en enero del 2010 y publicando 2 autores por mes hasta finales de diciembre donde publicarará los dos autores del mes y un libro especial -al parecer un escritor sorpresa y una colección de cuentos de todos los autores seleccionados– el 31 de diciembre del 2010 con la cual cerraría la primera década del siglo XXI

La editorial, pretende poner a trabajar a estas 25 mentes, en crear un mundo que reflejaría el universo del futuro y los problemas que los seres humanos tendremos que afrontar en..2060. Su objetivo es crear conciencia, a través de la literatura, de las distorsiones que se están produciendo por factores ambientales, políticos y tecnológicos. Ninguno de los autores seleccionados pertenece al género de ciencia ficción.

Darkover ha dejado entrever que entre los elegidos estarían cuatro escritores en lengua castellana: Vargas Llosa, García Márquez, Muñoz Molina e Iwasaki.

Difícil de creer que de esa lista(no oficial) de cuatro escritores, dos sean peruanos (si bien viven hace muchos años en España). Tal vez ellos podrán imaginar un mundo donde no quede ninguna duda de que el pisco es peruano.

Otros escritores que estarian incluidos en la lista son: Salman Rushdie, Haruki Murakami, J.M. Coetzee, José Saramago, Tony Morrison, V.S. Naipaul, Zadie Smith, Umberto Eco, Arundhati Roy y Gunter Grass.

En NY

Me fuí a Nueva York para vivir en el humo
Tal vez porque estaba cansado de tan poco trabajo
De la poca prisa
Tal vez porque me golpearon feo en mi última pichanga
Tal vez porque se casó el amor de mi vida
Tal vez porque no era bueno para nada.

Nadie me creyó cuando dije que me mudaba para Brooklyn
Que quería estar cerca del subterráneo
Que me gustaba el ruido de la gente, las largas esperas

Jugábamos fútbol al medio de la tarde
Acompañé a una brasileña enmedio del pánico
Se me cayeron las torres a su lado,
Esperando el tren uno hacia el Bajo Manhattan
¿Una guerra? ¿Cuál guerra?
Allí sólo veía la amenaza terrorista
¿Por qué alistar los aviones, los aeroplanos, los tanques?
¿Cuándo empezaron a soltar las bombas?

El Bronx tiene bonita vista al río
Camino entre las hojas nuevas, estación que llega
Abrazo a los cardenales que se quedan
Las tinieblas del pasado nuevo y revelado
Las canchas de tennis con sol
Las pecas de mi novia

Les mentiría si les digo
Que nunca he sentido miedo
Y que no he sido feliz,
En Nueva York.

Rescates


Levanta las patas el caballo y caigo al agua
Chapucea mi orgullo
Regreso al pueblo con las nalgas mojadas

Hay un tren con apellido fulminante
Demora treinta y cuatro horas en llegar al Brasil

Cada noche jugábamos a las cartas
Suena a risa nuestra partida: Telefunken

Corriendo entre las ratas y los acantilados
Debajo del puente se ve mejor el mar

Crecimos los tres bajo el mismo techo
Sosteniendo una botella de vino
Undurraga, helada, brindamos bajo el mismo cielo

Hay tres caballos en mi sueño
y treinta algas amarradas a la cornisa
Cuatro lapas agachadas
esperando la marea alta

Solitaria lagartija que pierde la cola
entre la arena que quema y sandalias abandonadas
la fruta podrida escondida
debajo de la cama.

Hilachas de paja que marcan la hora
Descalzo, de casa en casa, busco comida
Me señalan la casa sobre la plaza:

Corre, lleva tu plato. Han hecho sopa de choros.

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