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Tryst Interviews CE Chaffin (Page.4) |
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| Mia: You mention “quotability” in your essay, “<<Towards a New Direction for Poetry>>.” Did you know these lines by Eliot, “Till Human Voices Wake/And We Drown” was made into a movie with Helena Bonham Carter. Have you seen it? Basically the movie was a failure, but the fact that Eliot’s work is making it into the mainstream of consciousness, after Cats, doesn’t that say something about his prowess as a writer? He, in my opinion will outlast every single poet after Shakespeare. Audacious thing to commit to an interview, but here’s my question: What do those lines mean to you? CE: Haven’t seen the flick, didn’t particularly like Tom and Viv. The lines you quote mournfully remind us that our internal world of soothing imagination, like Prufrock’s mermaids, must end when human voices wake us and we must actually live—or drown—in real life: “We only live, only suspire / Consumed by either fire or fire” (“Little Gidding” IV). By the way, I think “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” and “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” the greatest poems in the English language. How’s that for equally audacious? Mia: What are you doing in Mexico and how is it living in a foreign land? Easier, more relaxed lifestyle? Have your poems taken on a different outlook? CE: Being on a fixed income for disability means that our money stretches further here. I can afford that great luxury, an office away from home, where I do some real writing. I’ve been able to begin my series on Eliot largely because of that, I think—something I’d always wanted to do but never began. Some of the poems of mine you chose for this issue naturally reflect Mexico as a source of subject matter, but I can’t say my poetry has changed appreciably. One great thing in this old colonial town (with about 10,000 Canadian and American expatriates) is the social life. My wife, Kathleen, who is congenitally deaf but lip-reads, has been able to make a number of close friends here—something that was nearly impossible for her in New York and LA. She doesn’t sign but I don’t want to go into all the reasons for that. She will be featured in Mindfire this December (Ed. Gary Blankenship) as she is a fine poet. She is also my editor and will read this interview before I send it off. You want her to proofread your questions? Ka-Ching! Mia: Speaking of poems, where would you like to see your own poetry go? Any books in sight, any other medium besides internet and the printed page? CE: I’d like to see my poetry get better, naturally. By that I mean deeper, more powerful. A great poem won’t let you go; it forces you to finish it even if you don’t like it. That’s always my goal, though rarely accomplished. I think I’m at least ten years away from being first-rate, and I’ll be the last to know if I do, as we cannot judge our own work. I have five good mss., four of poetry and one of criticism, looking for a publisher, but I don’t have an agent or connections. I did enter one in a recent contest, haven’t heard the results, never won a ms. contest and probably never will. Unfortunately, most (if not all!) quality presses are closed to unsolicited poetry manuscripts, notably LSU and Copper Canyon (and, of course, Knopf). My first and only published book of poetry, Elementary (Mellen Press 1997) was taken by the first publisher I sent it to but it’s out of print. I need an agent, keep putting off looking for one. Uhh-- who wants to be an agent for a poet/critic? No money in it. I do have some interesting fiction but I’ve been told it doesn’t fit the right marketing niche. I have a long theological tome called In Search of the Spirit that no one except a few friends have read. I am trying to get a web site up but have had multiple technical problems. I suppose if I had to make a living from writing I’d be forced to be much more aggressive in terms of “success.” As it is I can write what I want and feed my family with my disability pension. Not the best situation for a writer, I’m afraid, but a good one for a disabled doctor. Mia: I want to discuss this poem, Demon Melancholy. I felt that this one was influenced by Eliot with Dante’s directness. If you were to parse this poem, what is it doing, saying to the reader? These lines are wonderfully captive:
CE: Yes, you caught me, obviously this poem shows the influence of Dante and Eliot, though I like to think there’s a touch of Plath, too. The poem is about clinical depression: the worst hell I know. For any who don’t know, I’m a third-generation manic-depressive and once required 12 shock treatments at age 30. The depressions of manic-depressives are known to be the most severe and treatment-resistant of all depressions. My dad committed suicide, for instance, and both my grandmothers required shock treatment. Manic-Depression is a disease much more prevalent in poets, as you know, and has roughly a 30% lifetime mortality when untreated. I have never attempted suicide but I’ve wished for it with all my heart continuously for up to sixteen months while continuing to work as a doctor. Anyway, that’s what the poem’s about, but being a poem, it’s now whatever it is to the reader. I must say it can still make my skin crawl, though those who haven’t been there may think it a bit strange. I find it horrifyingly familiar. Mia: You teach an online class, could you describe it a little bit here? What are your objectives and what should the student expect? Do you think that maybe you should break up the courses into different course levels, for example: Novice, Intermediate, Advanced because I’m thinking having looked over your course syllabus that your course is rigorous. My only recommendation that I would take to heart is a lifetime of reading is just the beginning to writing good poetry. No? CE: I don’t get too many students,
it’s a word-of-mouth thing, it’s well hidden at Melic’s
site. We started with groups, then I found one-on-one was best for
anyone serious. Yes, it is rigorous; no, I won’t change it
for beginners. Learning how to write poetry is a skill, requires
hard work and takes a long time, literally a lifetime. And no matter
how much craft you acquire, which is the emphasis of the course,
you may never be a good poet. But without the fundamental skills,
or craft, you will never even have a chance to be a good poet. Call
me a classicist. Learn the craft; don’t think free verse is
free. Look how “free” Eliot’s verse is! There’s
an oxymoron if ever I heard one. Anyone interested can write me
at melicreview@hotmail.com for a course outline. I do require all
prospective students to send me samples of poems before I consider
them. It’s a lot of work and a lot of fun; one recent student
had twin girls near the end of the course and was writing a poem
about what their names ought to be before she named them. I get
close to my students, I have that luxury, perhaps because of the
personal distance afforded by the web. But I’m not doctrinaire;
it’s about their poetry, their voice, their development. Though
the syllabus may appear rigorous, my interaction is always tailored
to the student’s needs. CE: Jeez, isn’t this enough?
When I read interviews with poets I’m usually bored, especially
when they talk about their own work. Let’s give your readers
a break (if any of them had the patience to read this far). C. E. Chaffin 5/29/04
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