Poetry Review:"Thee Constellation is Off Deck" & "A Short Sleep Taking Effect"

Joshua Nilles is a poet in the best sense of the word. While so many writers have been co-opting new ways of being charming you with cutesy phrases and framing of the day, Joshua doesn’t do that. Thankfully uninfluenced by the minimal style gaining so much ground lately, his work at times feels reminiscent of William S. Burroughs’s (who gets a mention) cynical style. Largely focused on pop culture through diffuse means, his poetry is hyper articulate, employing a vast vocabulary. Yet this language, though extremely specific, leaves things cloudy. Having multiple perspectives and a narrative style doesn’t help the reader. My suggestion would be to give up and let the language take you where it may. 

He has two collections of poetry coming out on Amazon on 12/08/10: “Thee Constellation is Off Deck” and “A Short Sleep Taking Effect”. Going through it, I notice a few wonderful details. One of the best features of the writing is how much is implied. Nothing here is directly spelled out for you. Reference-dropping barely exists in this territory, with music references to Elephant6, Flying Saucer Attack and Sufjan Stevens.  Besides those few references, you have to feel your way around. Although you can get the mood, the poems require by their very nature multiple readings to fully grasp what is going on. It works as mood fodder anyway, since the open-ended nature of the writing allows you to project your own feelings towards it.

                The language is forceful, direct, and paranoid. Little attempt is made to sugar-coat anything. Paranoia runs deep through each piece, either through the narrator’s doubt or worrying about what’s going to come. Illusions are made constantly to death, pain and weapons. Yet just as often are descriptions of the lulling lethargic laziness that makes such horrors possible. Watching MTV, being bored, napping and other non-productive habits is described with stunning accuracy. 

                Usually the phrase “overwritten” implies something bad, something awful. I don’t adhere to this. Being a fan of overwritten stuff, I counter that including so much details allows the reader to come up with their own scenario of what the words means. An obvious (and extreme) example of this would of course be “Finnegans Wake” which is written for and against the English language. Despite the obvious limitations of this approach, I ended up tearing up, especially towards the final pages of the book, as it felt like the dreamers were waking up.

                Somehow, these poems achieve that hard to reach location. Mood seeps through in each line, but what exactly is happening? By using so many different words in bizarre contexts, Joshua forces you to construct meaning. I know most poets aim for this, but Joshua hits it. Lines like 

“losers branching out in females to grow shit

males becoming fish to forget

their red coats exchanged

the city benefits

tha' sentence at a time

finds work for the plot carrying this faction”

Imply several different scenarios. Multiple visions like red coats, welfare, warfare, evolution all come flooding into the mind. Even continuing with the rest of the poem (Pete The C-Cast Bomber) does not clarify things. Parts of this are reminiscent of Pynchon’s better writing, of his work in creating moods and obscuring the truth behind the words. Remember “Gravity’s Rainbow” where Tyrone Slothrop searches for the 00000? While he’s searching for this, it is only implied that he is slowly losing his mind. Only after he becomes a member of the band “The Fools” does this become readily apparent.

                This isn’t trendy writing. It isn’t even happy at all. But it is blunt, direct writing lacking any of the pseudo ‘just kidding’ stances that so many writers have been taking lately. Most writers of late have been hiding behind layers of irony; a few writers are able to avoid the fate that TV has dealt them. A few are able to move away from the mass conformist, almost copy-cat styles that permeate our society. I’m thankful to say that these two books of poetry do just that. Avoiding references is difficult, since it usually acts as a way to make a reader feel clever and the writer to feel smart. It is a joint operation on both ends. Somehow these two books are able to create an almost alternate reality. 

                What shocks me most is how absolutely flabbergasted I am at finding any comparison to this without going way far back. Musically, I guess I would state Whitehouse’s more recent lyrical output might give you some idea of what you’re up against. Brutal as it might be, I haven’t had this sort of reaction to poetry for quite some time. Please make sure to read this late at night with little distraction. I read these aloud in a gruff, almost broken voice. I suggest doing the same.

Slint – Spiderland 10.0

People fawn over this album. I did. When I first put it on, it blew me away. Everything about it felt perfect, right down to the clean guitar that opens up “Breadcrumb Trail”. When I finished the album, I put it on a few more times. Later that evening when I went to sleep I had paranoid, creepy nightmares recognizing the intense discomfort and paranoia that exists on a regular basis in America. 

Such is the power of Spiderland. It is the kind of thing I wish I heard more: beautiful guitar, beautiful drums, beautiful everything really. The lyrics are vulnerable yet they avoid a lot of the cliches of exposing yourself by singing. By speaking it sounds like narration, and the music is the backdrop. Hearing about the rollercoaster ride meshes so well with the perfect instrumentation. 

“Nosferatu Man is one of the more straightforward songs on here. There are absolutely excellent vamps on here, particularly at the midsection. Sometimes when I listen to that harsh, messed-up “My teeth touched her skin” I sort of wish it could last forever.

What comes up next is far more difficult. “Don Aman” is the song that gives credence to the rumor that at some point some of the members may or may not have been institutionalized during its recording. Honestly, I kind of doubt they were, but it is an extremely unsettling. Stripped of percussion, or even guitar distortion, it is simply a series of guitar chords spaced out to give tension rather than melody.

The quiet continues into “Washer”. Singing actually occurs on this song, rather than the uncomfortable speaking that went on beforehand. Percussion is re-introduced, and the song keeps its cool besides one explosion at the very end. “For Dinner” ups the ante by providing a tense moment with no relief by speaking, singing, or even a single explosion.

Finally, the end is in sight. Hearing those jangling notes, you know something is not well. The nervous drums and bass confirm this. In case you still didn’t get it, Brian lays the Ancient Mariner theme on. Samuel Taylor Coleridge probably would be thrilled to see his poem taken to such nightmarish extremes. Everything builds up to that extremely satisfying scream “I MISS YOU!” as sound explodes louder than it had during the entire album’s duration.

Released in 1991 to little to no acclaim whatsoever (excluding Steve Albini’s “ten fucking stars”), it built up its popularity. Not due to any sort of pranks or hijinks by the band. Indeed, the band has been ultra-quiet about those recording sessions it had with Brian Paulson. 

Instead, they did this unusual thing where the music spoke for itself. Occasionally others found it and sung its praises, but the band wasn’t interested in pointless promotion. This is probably one of the most American rock albums I’ve ever loved. Each second oozes a certain kind of America, the America I live in, not romanticized, just shown as realistically and starkly as possible. Pure love.

Book Review: Mason & Dixon **Warning Spoilers!**

Thomas Pynchon rightly earned the reputation of being one of America’s most bizarre authors. Among his other accomplishments includes avoiding photographs, interviews, book signings, indeed all those things that authors tend to subject themselves to. Reading his books, you don’t feel like the guy is a recluse, you get the feeling that he doesn’t care at all about those aspects. By focusing exclusively on research and insanely intricate plots, he allows his talents to flourish with virtually no outside interference.

                Mason & Dixon took me longer to read than any of his other books. Various deadlines kept on creeping me, asking me to meet them. I did, and the book suffered as a result. Also, since his prose tends to be extremely dense, it gives you a lot to ponder. Easily a page of his work might be an entire short story or novella for a less weird author. But Pynchon doesn’t work at being normal, he excels at being different, at being smart, at being able to graduate high school early and just dive deep into another universe it would seem.

                Uncharacteristically, he pays close attention to the character’s feelings and emotions. Mason and Dixon are better fleshed out than any other character he’d ever sketched before, whether it is Slothrop  or the Whole Sick Crew. You really feel for Mason’s melancholy, his inability to connect with his children. And you feel for Dixon and his sympathy for those downtrodden souls he constantly encounters. Paranoia and goofiness still loom large over the narrative (those are his calling cards) but they don’t overtake it. Rather, they form a nice background for these two very real individuals.

                I’m familiar with most of his work, but this has the feel of one of his greats, up there with both my adored V. and, of course, Gravity’s Rainbow. Reading his work always has this calming effect over me. When I first read his work, I started almost tearing up. Just the fact that you can write like this and it’s fully acceptable is so gratifying. Usually when I read something I have to keep in mind “Oh, it has to adhere to this rule or that rule, blah” With his work, I feel like it is purely free of almost any another concern, he writes it exactly how he wants and people try to get it. If they get it great, but usually people get burned out and fail before they finish. 

                Don’t stop with this book. Gain the strength to read it if you are one of those that always tries and fails to read it. What happens at the very end reflects a lot of the emotions Pynchon felt now that he had become a father. Mason becomes less melancholy and must cheer up his formerly bubbly colleague Dixon. After Dixon dies, Mason connects with his children in a way he worried he never would. The previous journeys mentioned earlier in the novel gain a yellowish, nostalgic hue. Mason passes away and his children take up his steed. It is such a satisfying ending, seeing the multiple perspectives upon perspectives that the story takes on. 

                Unlike most of his books, it feels like he really knew these characters or at least based it off of people he cared about. The characters work as fully fledged human beings, with worries and concerns. Seeing the end, you understand that it is probably the first time Pynchon has wanted us to see how (relatively) normal people go through life. Stencil was a weirdo. Slothrop went slowly insane, despite the help of all those around him. Mason and Dixon lived a strange life, filled to the brim with obscure geography, but lived as good people. As people you know, people you want to care about. Those who claim that Pynchon doesn’t care about his characters, that he’s too emotionally detached to his material, I’d point to this book, ask them to read, and then continue that line of argument. They couldn’t and that’s why you should read it too. Postmodernism does have a heart and this is easily the best of Pynchon's late work.