Poet Jack McCarthy
The
Value of Discouragement in WHAT I SAW,
poems by Jack McCarthy
by
Michael Todd Steffen
Every
now and then the question pops up: What’s the difference between poetry and
prose?
One
answer has occurred to me: It’s not rare for writers of prose to produce long
narratives. Novel after novel appear regularly on the New Release shelves in
the libraries and the bookstores.
Reading Jack McCarthy’s poems from his new
book WHAT
I SAW
raised that old elusive question for me, not that McCarthy has attempted a
continuous long narrative poem. Yet the poems do show a primary interest on the
poet’s behalf in telling stories, in an impressive variety of narrative
registers, from (MAGNUM ITER)
the theme of the initiation of young men to manhood through the spiritual-demonic
character of a never-to-please Latin teacher, to (THE
ACCOMODATION:
ADAM’S
RECOLLECTION)
the amplification of our Biblical etiological parents, Adam and Eve, discussing
sexual desire with unexpected maturity and candor, poison to the Serpent absent
in this version.
On opening McCarthy’s book, the reader
will recognize that this is different poetry, evidently in the allowance of the
length of the poems, most of them running 3 to 5 pages, a tasking yet inviting
challenge to readers of contemporary poetry whose expectations probably tend
toward poems of half a page, if not shorter in our media-inundated culture. So
in a very real sense, McCarthy is formally bold in his patience to use the
undetermined paragraph strophe, foregoing obvious concentration on word play
and arrangement, to set out in relatively simple language the elements of his
narratives:
We were ripe for intimidation
and the more inimitable intimidator
of all was Mister Hatch. He taught
Latin and his classroom was right
next to the marble portal inscribed
–
Huc venite pueri ut viri sitis
“Come this way, boys, that you may
be men.”
The road to manhood ran past Mister
Hatch.
Galway
Kinnell in his master work of elegies, THE
BOOK
OF
NIGHTMARES,
excused his composition, with a stroke of humility, as “cut-up prose.” While
reading McCarthy’s narratives,
I
could hear the acutely technical reader of poetry wonder, Why doesn’t he just
write these anecdotes in prose paragraphs? (Though I’m 100% behind the poet’s
answer: Because I conceived of writing this in lines of poetry.)
McCarthy’s lines do convey a sense of
purpose: the delivery of one definite idea or image at a time, producing an
overall clarity which many poets don’t so much strive for.
But these are not naïve poems. McCarthy
bears a strong sense of the value of discouragement and everyday mishaps,
failures and disappointments. Like Shakespeare, he is not about to vaunt the
beauty of his mistress’s eyes as comparable to the brilliance of the sun. He
uses ordinary instances in an unassuming way to relate elusive depths of
wisdom, such as the peril of doubt and hesitation:
I was heading south on Route 97
and in the opposite lane I saw
a chipmunk dart out in front
of an oncoming car.
He had room to make it,
and the pickup truck in front of me
was already hitting his brakes
to let him cross our lane
but when the chipmunk
turned his head and saw the pickup
he hesitated one fatal second,
then spun and darted back toward
home
right under the left front wheel of
the northbound car. (CHIPMUNK
BOOTY
CALL)
The
subtle prosodic elements in the simple narrative make for great pleasure. The
verb tenses in the first two lines, past progressive and past simple, depict a
setting for the event and then the physical and psychological development of
it. I like the equation of the victim and the agent of distraction, chipmunk
and pickup, both spondees, words of dually stressed quantity, of syllabic
identity i and u.
And then the semiotic possibilities of the word of distraction, pickup. Was
this just an ordinary four-wheeled pickup, or could it have been a different
type of ‘pickup’ that brought about the scene? Is the simple story an allegory
of some other sort of pickup?
The run-on line-breaks, or enjambments,
moreover – out in front/of an oncoming car
under the left front wheel of/ the northbound car) aptly convey the
suddenness of what happened.
This little parable is at once terrible
and trivial, poignant and passing, like life itself. McCarthy is masterful to
be so undifficult in his manner with language and so profound in his
suggestions of meaning. Like a wealthy man of fable in the disguise of a beggar
testing passersby, these poems risk detaining you with their casual, gradual
and quiet presentation, yet will reward handsomely for your patience and
consideration.
WHAT
I SAW
poems
by Jack McCarthy
is
available for $15
from
EM Press
24041
S Navajo Drive
Channahon,
IL 60410
em-press.com
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