(THIRD OF THREE POEMS)
Anteater in an audience of
under-thirties. Metal microphone’s
demonic glint. Guitar on green
rack. Sad songs sing for
yellow-eyed grass to sway to.
Kill me, saccharine sugar. I
allowed myself to
undress my fur and
foreclaws.
Fire burns in the auburn
my species warned
against– a crowd of sadness
no nation’s a stranger to.
James Croal Jackson‘s first autumn 2023 poem for us was “Moment (October).”
His second autumn 2023 poem for us was “Fault.”
A SNEAK PREVIEW OF NEW POP LIT’S NEXT FEATURE
Tyranny doesn’t come in an App
We’ve seen it before
It’s got a moustache and a harsh pair of trousers
It’s old and cold and suffers in silence
All forbidding and grey and indiscriminate violence
It knocks on your door, at four, with a document
And smells of telephone wires and corridors, tobacco and damp pavement
It was in a film with the award-winning actor, he lost a stone to emote in a prison shirt
It was critically acclaimed so they put his hollow bones in a sepia toned aftershave advert
Tyranny doesn’t look like a gurning, groomed comedian
Who has emojis in his bio
And the gait of a hyperactive child
Coming Soon!
NEEDED: An autopsy of American literature. An examination of problems from top to bottom. Not just of the top-heavy hierarchical machine which delivers the art, through various avenues, to the public, but of the art itself.
FIRST must come a recognition that the art in its various forms has problems. Novels, short stories, plays, poems, criticism. That it is in effect dead— or at least on life support.
PREMISE: That American literature was seized by postmodern scoundrels and thieves, who turned the art into this narrow, largely irrelevant piece of delicate historical pottery kept on a shelf in a dusty museum in an obscure corner of the cultural city opened for three hours twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. A living art needs to be necessary and vital and it needs to be among the people, part of their everyday myths and memories.
THIS POST is not meant to be pessimistic. On the contrary, it’s optimistic, because with a host of problems comes the opportunity to correct them. To put the literary art back on course, and in so doing, restore its rightful status– its central place in today’s culture.
HOW to do this will be the fun part.
-KW
HOW TO REVIVE AN ART
Winston Churchill, one of the first politicians to see the threat posed by an Austrian crackpot named Adolf, once said something to the effect that he could see farther into the future, because he looked further back into the past.
Following that strategy, searching for new influences and sources, I’ve been studying American cultural history of past decades. Current one examined: the 1930’s.
Which has led me to a uniquely overlooked novel: City for Conquest by Aben Kandel. A throwback to when novels were large of experience and passion, and attempted to encompass the world. Were critical standards different from what they are now (critics today favor inward-looking tomes of refined language), it might be considered one of the nation’s great novels, as it portrays the reality of America and its growth as well as any novel ever has. Instead, though, to know about the work, you have to find out about it by accident, inevitably by encountering the minimalist-by-comparison movie version. For the gatekeepers of “Literature-with-a-capital-L,” the novel might not be politically incorrect, but it’s stylistically unacceptable. Too raw. Too real.
The book is described in the Introduction to its latest printing as “vivid, overwrought, and melodramatic.”
My reaction: Awesome! This is exactly what the new novel will need to be to grab the attention of the unwary in this tumultuous, ultra-noisy civilization– every bit as noisy today near the end of 2023 as the way Kandel described it in 1937. I’m nine chapters into the book and it doesn’t disappoint. Its strengths adeptly utilized can be part of an upcoming and very necessary Culture Shock provided by never-before-seen kinds of literary products able to stand a once-great but currently-stagnant art form on its head.
Don’t bet against it.
-Karl Wenclas
(toy fort c/o Kid Eco)
WHO ARE the Can’t Do This People?
Answer: Today’s literary intelligentsia and their spokespersons, established literary critics. They’re like generals fighting a previous war, embedded in outmoded attitudes, waiting to be toppled by armies with new ideas and more aggressive tactics.
In short, they leave room for their predictably-positioned rigid regiments to be outflanked.
Room? Wide avenues on either side.
The self-appointed highbrows are terrified of any writing smacking of “masscult” or “midcult,” “middlebrow” (listen to your Virginia Woolf-schoolteacher lessons you studious play-the-game pupils)– or any writing which might potentially become– gasp!– popular! NO! Can’t have that.
Politics? Not.
Melodrama? OUT!
Plot? Complex structure? NO WAY!!
Which provides the simple answer to this question: How to reinvent the literary art? Be willing to try things which the designated literary experts are unwilling to try.
There they sit in their immobile fortress, unable to move. Can anyone knock the fortress down? Unlikely. But one can go around it– and leave its occupants behind, stuck in one spot.
(c/o Regal Toy Soldiers)
-KW
ANOTHER IN A SERIES EXAMINING THE INSIDER LITERARY WORLD
(photo c/o Glamour magazine)
ONE OF the so-called Literary It Girls getting hyped by the decrepit remains of the Manhattan media machine is heiress Allie Rowbottom, author of a much-touted novel, Aesthetica. Yet more autofiction, by all accounts. A depiction of a narcissistic main character, and by extension, today’s culture. Newsflash: we already know about it, are bombarded by narcissism from every corner of electronic media. Do we really want to grovel in the book’s self-absorbed descriptions? A criticism of plastic surgery? Or a celebration of it?
Allie Rowbottom was most recently seen giving skin care advice in the pages of a Manhattan glamor magazine. She reveals she gets Botox injections, may be conflicted about the procedure and other procedures, but receives them anyway. America’s out-of-touch leisure class. Meanwhile, unhinged heavily-armed well-trained potential mass killers roam America from Maine to Texas, waiting to be triggered; wars break out across the globe; bad-guy authoritarians make moves to end any semblance of world peace; tech plutocrats become ever wealthier with new AI schemes (the wealth gap has never been greater) while more people who are unable to make rent or mortgage payments are thrown into the streets. 21st Century Chaos! But hey, Allie Rowbottom has a new novel out about one person’s obsession with her face– powers-that-be in the Insider Literary Realm expect us to run out and buy it.
Widen that wealth gap more? No thanks.
-KW
(photo c/o Jamie Lockhart)
My
cat
sprinting
between feet
in hallway darkness-
mid-stumble, I still am sorry.
James’s most recent poem at Fast Pop Lit was “Moment (October)”
1.) What inspired your story, “And the Angels Sing”?
The story was based on visits I did make to my ailing uncle and also, at random times, a group of subway singers. Over time, I combined them with my thoughts about music in general and turned them into conversations with the hospice person.
2.) Who are a few of your favorite writers? Favorite musicians?
Favorite writers include Fitzgerald, the short stories of Hemingway, Ann Beatie, Phillip Pullman. In terms of music, it’s a wide range from theater to rock and pop. From Hammerstein to Sondheim, Sinatra and his pack, the Beatles and Beach Boys, Bruce, Motown.
3.) Which do you feel is a stronger mode of communication, literature or music?
I think music communicates best. Even if you hear a song in a different language and don’t understand the words, the vocal and melody can affect your mood.
XXXXXX
NOW read Joe Del Castillo’s feature story at our main site, “And the Angels Sing.”
VIEWING A SCENE FROM THE 1959 FILM VERSION OF BEN-HUR
“The grown man knows the world he lives in.”
Though it won eleven Academy Awards when it came out, today the 1959 movie version of Ben-Hur is ridiculously underrated by film critics and historians. In visuals and sound– including a best-ever film score by Miklos Rozsa– it provides one of the great cinematic experiences. Including the best-ever movie action sequence, the famed chariot race. But it’s also the most literate film epic ever made, with the possible exception of 1963’s Lawrence of Arabia. Contributors to Ben-Hur’s script included Karl Tunberg (who received screen credit), Christopher Fry, Gore Vidal, Maxwell Anderson, and S. N. Behrman– outstanding talents all.
The talent is shown, in my opinion, in one scene in particular, which, with everything happening in the world today, is more relevant than ever. This is the encounter between Roman governor of Judea, Pontius Pilate, and Judah Ben-Hur after Judah has won the chariot race. The subject being what path for an individual to follow when facing the cruel complexities of this world. To choose the big-picture reality of Empire– or move to the side of personal tragedies which may be indirectly or directly caused by Empire.
It’s a dilemma I notice taking place right now regarding the same part of the world, between America’s pro-Palestinian left, and those left-leaning liberals supporting President Biden on the issue, who are taking a broader, Pax Americana view– the view outlined in Biden’s October 19, 2023 televised speech. Who’s right? Who’s wrong? Hopefully it won’t take 2,000 years to figure it out.
Anyway, the scene–
NOTE: The film is based on the novel by Lew Wallace, published in 1880, before the United States was considered an empire. Wallace had been a general on the Union side during the American Civil War. The reigning world empire at the time, Great Britain, had tacitly supported the South during that war. Did this influence Lew Wallace’s novel? One wonders.
-KW
A SNEAK PREVIEW OF NEW POP LIT’S NEXT FEATURE
“Do you remember?” I continued, “I was into the Beatles and all the British Invasion groups that were out then, but you never cared for them. It was difficult for me to understand that you could not see what I saw in those performers. You talked about Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, and the like. You insisted that I listen to their music and gain an appreciation for their artistry. I felt I knew them well enough since they were who mom and dad listened to. I now had my own stars and their songs dominated my head. Of course, I was sixteen, so I thought my opinions mattered more. I wanted you to understand what ‘my’ singers were talking about. If your favorites sang about love, mine sang about love, but also civil rights and injustice. Wasn’t that more important?”
Coming Soon!
