And the Troubadour International Poetry Prize Winner is...
Owl
For Mr. G. P. and Mr. G. A.
I
Now I work without that sign following
D, prior to F. I follow you,
writing about an owl fascinating
my soul, Mr. G. P., far from haiku.
Did you catch calls of an owl in a park
in Paris sounding again and again?
You did? I, too, pick up this song at dark
singing not-‘twhoo’ but ‘coo hmm’ in misty rain.
Did you think of this owl as a symbol
of sharp-sightly wisdom in Paris?
In Shanghai this owl signals sin and ill
and bad luck, on a par with cannabis.
In your world, if an Asian owl should light
on you, would you call it or avoid it?
II
Mr. G. A., your brilliant translation
A VOID migrating. landing on my hand,
I, too, look for ‘hoot’ in variation,
using lipography just as you did.
With your notation, ‘twhoo pht’ ‘twhoo pfft’ ‘twhoo pht’ ‘twhoo pfft’ ‘twhooo’,
Do you hark to hoots of an Asian owl?
With my notation, ‘coo hmm’ ‘coo hmmm’ ‘coo hmm’ ‘coo hmmm’ ‘cooo’,
Do you grasp such whoops as fair or foul?
An individual ululation
has multi-marks and plural compound chords
varying on points, skirting all canons
that control thoughts, though producing discords.
‘Hmm’, ‘twhoo pht’ ‘coo pht’ ‘twhooo pht’ ‘cooo pht’ ‘twhoo hmm’ ‘coo hmm’ ‘twhoo pfft’ ‘coo pfft’. How would you hoot owl’s fuzzy sound? Just how?
III
Thoughtful old owl, you stand in a brown oak.
You do not talk, you do but mull and gird;
You do but mull and gird, you do not talk;
Not all can do as you do, thoughtful bird.
O awful owl, you scowl in a ginkgo.
You go off, swooping out, and up and down.
And a dark bass doom thrums in your lingo.
How swift is your flight, how grim is your frown!
In soft wind, twhoo by twhoo, ‘twhoo pht’ ‘twhoo pht’ ‘twhoo pfft’ ‘twhoo’
is ‘coo hrnm’ ‘coo hrnm’ ‘coo hrnmm’ ‘coo hrnmm’ ‘cooo hm’ ‘cooo hm’ ‘coo’ ‘coo’ ‘hoot’,
or ‘uu ho’ ‘uuu ho’ ‘uuuu ho’ ‘uu ho’ ‘uuu’.
And your singular cry grows variant.
And although mystical your haunting call,
owl is owl is owl for you — that is all.
Mr. G. P. is Georges Perec who wrote the novel ‘La Disparition’ (‘A VOID’).
Mr. G. A. is Gilbert Adair who translated the novel into English.
Hideko Sueoka
......................................................................................
Opinions?
For Mr. G. P. and Mr. G. A.
I
Now I work without that sign following
D, prior to F. I follow you,
writing about an owl fascinating
my soul, Mr. G. P., far from haiku.
Did you catch calls of an owl in a park
in Paris sounding again and again?
You did? I, too, pick up this song at dark
singing not-‘twhoo’ but ‘coo hmm’ in misty rain.
Did you think of this owl as a symbol
of sharp-sightly wisdom in Paris?
In Shanghai this owl signals sin and ill
and bad luck, on a par with cannabis.
In your world, if an Asian owl should light
on you, would you call it or avoid it?
II
Mr. G. A., your brilliant translation
A VOID migrating. landing on my hand,
I, too, look for ‘hoot’ in variation,
using lipography just as you did.
With your notation, ‘twhoo pht’ ‘twhoo pfft’ ‘twhoo pht’ ‘twhoo pfft’ ‘twhooo’,
Do you hark to hoots of an Asian owl?
With my notation, ‘coo hmm’ ‘coo hmmm’ ‘coo hmm’ ‘coo hmmm’ ‘cooo’,
Do you grasp such whoops as fair or foul?
An individual ululation
has multi-marks and plural compound chords
varying on points, skirting all canons
that control thoughts, though producing discords.
‘Hmm’, ‘twhoo pht’ ‘coo pht’ ‘twhooo pht’ ‘cooo pht’ ‘twhoo hmm’ ‘coo hmm’ ‘twhoo pfft’ ‘coo pfft’. How would you hoot owl’s fuzzy sound? Just how?
III
Thoughtful old owl, you stand in a brown oak.
You do not talk, you do but mull and gird;
You do but mull and gird, you do not talk;
Not all can do as you do, thoughtful bird.
O awful owl, you scowl in a ginkgo.
You go off, swooping out, and up and down.
And a dark bass doom thrums in your lingo.
How swift is your flight, how grim is your frown!
In soft wind, twhoo by twhoo, ‘twhoo pht’ ‘twhoo pht’ ‘twhoo pfft’ ‘twhoo’
is ‘coo hrnm’ ‘coo hrnm’ ‘coo hrnmm’ ‘coo hrnmm’ ‘cooo hm’ ‘cooo hm’ ‘coo’ ‘coo’ ‘hoot’,
or ‘uu ho’ ‘uuu ho’ ‘uuuu ho’ ‘uu ho’ ‘uuu’.
And your singular cry grows variant.
And although mystical your haunting call,
owl is owl is owl for you — that is all.
Mr. G. P. is Georges Perec who wrote the novel ‘La Disparition’ (‘A VOID’).
Mr. G. A. is Gilbert Adair who translated the novel into English.
Hideko Sueoka
......................................................................................
Opinions?
Thu, 5 Dec 2013 10:40 am
Chris, will you be entering anything for the Troubadour prize next year? It won't be the same judges, of course ...
Sun, 8 Dec 2013 10:10 am
Chris,
Regarding Owl,
The work is `for` the author and translator of a lipographical (dispensing with the use of one letter in all the words used) novel, therefore it presumes that the reader is aware of the content of these two works.After an unexplained reference to the letters D and F The writer points out that, not only does an `owl` (of the title and apparently of the two authors works) `song` sound different in Shanghai, than in the Perec`s Paris, but that in Asia it `signals`: not a symbol of `sharp-sightedy wisdom` but `sin and ill and bad luck` (she uses symbol and signal as interchangeable terms) and wonders: if he should encounter the Asian type of owl would he call or avoid it.
2
This is addressed to the translator only and continues the theme of different symbolic interpretations of an owl`s whoops as either `fair or foul` according to where they are listened to and wonders if Adair `harks` to the hoots of an Asian owl` The absolute idiosyncrasy of `individual ululation skirting all cannons` is assumed, and differing onomatopoeic imitations of an owl`s cry are contrasted against this supposed idiosyncrasy and then somewhat jumbled and Adair is challenged as to how he would hoot the Asian owls fuzzy sound should he hear it …`just how`
3
This last is addressed to a `thoughtful` old owl who does but `mull `gird` `scowl` `frown` and in who`s `lingo` a `dark bass doom` `thrums`. The inference is that the (wise?) old owl just carries on being itself despite the differing symbolism attributed to it`s `song` in various places by humans. The work ends with the summing `owl is owl is owl for you – that is all`
The work as whole
Perec and Adair were both in the post modernist stream of literature and could be considered to use of the weapons of fragmentation, paradox, questionable narrators etc; in their works The original novel of Perec was entitled `the disappearance`(a thing gone?) but was altered by Adair to `The Void`. (perhaps nothing?) The missing vowel in the lipographical form of the novel argues disappearance (or nothingness) so this is an issue in the work. However, Adair`s translation is called `brilliant`… so the writer appears to be favouring void over disappeared? Whatever, the writer is summing the argument by saying of the owl `owl is owl is owl for you ` (it?)- that is all`
My opinion
The work, strikes me as narrowly addressed to an intellectual `cognoscenti` who would be interested in the work of a pair of dead (post modern?) authors. It is –at root – an argument about literary theory and symbolism.
The tortuously onomatopoeic imitating of the owl `songs` and the contrasting of the Asiatic and European symbolic `meanings` given to each is a fairly mundane use of poetic effort. As is also the tedium of the first two `explaining` sections.
I think the final old owl was intended as kind of disregarding `Crow` plaguing both the symbolic houses, but the `thoughtful` the `mystical` and the `haunting` together with that `dark bass doom` and the slip into partial rhyme turns the section into a kind of aware/unaware hotch-potch. The final (prosaically attention drawing) `and your singular cry grows variant` in my opinion kills it completely.
I dislike a work which spends two thirds of it`s length explaining what it`s going to be about.
As a poem concerning anything to do with owl-ness, it`s not a patch on – if she will forgive me mentioning it - Anne Foxgloves recent re-post…of the same name
Regarding Owl,
The work is `for` the author and translator of a lipographical (dispensing with the use of one letter in all the words used) novel, therefore it presumes that the reader is aware of the content of these two works.After an unexplained reference to the letters D and F The writer points out that, not only does an `owl` (of the title and apparently of the two authors works) `song` sound different in Shanghai, than in the Perec`s Paris, but that in Asia it `signals`: not a symbol of `sharp-sightedy wisdom` but `sin and ill and bad luck` (she uses symbol and signal as interchangeable terms) and wonders: if he should encounter the Asian type of owl would he call or avoid it.
2
This is addressed to the translator only and continues the theme of different symbolic interpretations of an owl`s whoops as either `fair or foul` according to where they are listened to and wonders if Adair `harks` to the hoots of an Asian owl` The absolute idiosyncrasy of `individual ululation skirting all cannons` is assumed, and differing onomatopoeic imitations of an owl`s cry are contrasted against this supposed idiosyncrasy and then somewhat jumbled and Adair is challenged as to how he would hoot the Asian owls fuzzy sound should he hear it …`just how`
3
This last is addressed to a `thoughtful` old owl who does but `mull `gird` `scowl` `frown` and in who`s `lingo` a `dark bass doom` `thrums`. The inference is that the (wise?) old owl just carries on being itself despite the differing symbolism attributed to it`s `song` in various places by humans. The work ends with the summing `owl is owl is owl for you – that is all`
The work as whole
Perec and Adair were both in the post modernist stream of literature and could be considered to use of the weapons of fragmentation, paradox, questionable narrators etc; in their works The original novel of Perec was entitled `the disappearance`(a thing gone?) but was altered by Adair to `The Void`. (perhaps nothing?) The missing vowel in the lipographical form of the novel argues disappearance (or nothingness) so this is an issue in the work. However, Adair`s translation is called `brilliant`… so the writer appears to be favouring void over disappeared? Whatever, the writer is summing the argument by saying of the owl `owl is owl is owl for you ` (it?)- that is all`
My opinion
The work, strikes me as narrowly addressed to an intellectual `cognoscenti` who would be interested in the work of a pair of dead (post modern?) authors. It is –at root – an argument about literary theory and symbolism.
The tortuously onomatopoeic imitating of the owl `songs` and the contrasting of the Asiatic and European symbolic `meanings` given to each is a fairly mundane use of poetic effort. As is also the tedium of the first two `explaining` sections.
I think the final old owl was intended as kind of disregarding `Crow` plaguing both the symbolic houses, but the `thoughtful` the `mystical` and the `haunting` together with that `dark bass doom` and the slip into partial rhyme turns the section into a kind of aware/unaware hotch-potch. The final (prosaically attention drawing) `and your singular cry grows variant` in my opinion kills it completely.
I dislike a work which spends two thirds of it`s length explaining what it`s going to be about.
As a poem concerning anything to do with owl-ness, it`s not a patch on – if she will forgive me mentioning it - Anne Foxgloves recent re-post…of the same name
Wed, 11 Dec 2013 10:25 pm
I really rather like it. It reminded me of the verbal play you get in John Skelton. I think it's probably about different perceptions of Asian and Western culture as well as being a lipogramatical poem in itself (no 'e's')
It plays with sound and doesn't take itself too seriously. It fair motors along.
I don't think references to Georges Perec's La Disparance are too obscure as it's fairly well available, and the translation by Gilbert Adair is too. I suspect in France, references to Perec, a very well known figure in French literature, wouldn't be seen as out of the ordinary. Oulipo I suspect would be a lot more familiar to Asian writers than those British writers who like to imagine Modernism never happened in this country (it did.)
(That sign following D, prior to F, by the way is E, which this poem doesn't contain. Bit of hip self-reference but kind of cute.)
To me, this doesn't seem out of the ordinary and I'm glad that a poem like this actually won a prize. It makes a change from the usual anecdotal half-pagers that win.
It's also fun. The owl's pomposity as a poetic symbol is being made fun of, partly through the onomatopoeia and partly through that 'hotch-potch' of images in the last verse, 'fascinating my soul' is a lovely piece of bathos. It's nice to see a humourous poem winning something too. So many competition winners are deadly serious; and this is not so much.
It plays with sound and doesn't take itself too seriously. It fair motors along.
I don't think references to Georges Perec's La Disparance are too obscure as it's fairly well available, and the translation by Gilbert Adair is too. I suspect in France, references to Perec, a very well known figure in French literature, wouldn't be seen as out of the ordinary. Oulipo I suspect would be a lot more familiar to Asian writers than those British writers who like to imagine Modernism never happened in this country (it did.)
(That sign following D, prior to F, by the way is E, which this poem doesn't contain. Bit of hip self-reference but kind of cute.)
To me, this doesn't seem out of the ordinary and I'm glad that a poem like this actually won a prize. It makes a change from the usual anecdotal half-pagers that win.
It's also fun. The owl's pomposity as a poetic symbol is being made fun of, partly through the onomatopoeia and partly through that 'hotch-potch' of images in the last verse, 'fascinating my soul' is a lovely piece of bathos. It's nice to see a humourous poem winning something too. So many competition winners are deadly serious; and this is not so much.
Fri, 13 Dec 2013 11:32 am
SECOND THOUGHTS
I didn`t `click` the `D prior to F` so read it again.
The absence of the E. is just repeated oulipo and adds nothing.
On reflection the addressing words:
`Writing about an owl fascinating my soul Mr G.P`
`Mr G. A. Your brilliant translation`
Have, in that `fascinating` and `brilliant` something of a faint sneer about them as the writer -in unremarkable language – carps (`do you` `would you` `how would` `just how`) questioningly on the mere fact that sometimes symbolic interpretations can differ in different places.
Her:
`An individual ululation
has multi-marks and plural compound chords
varying on points, skirting all canons
that control thoughts, though producing discords.`
(is gainsaid by the `thought` behind the `ululated` discords of the Punk rock movement)
These points, together with the clumsy and retarding effect of the owl –hoot imitations, and the hotch-potch nature of the final section prevent me from seeing it as any sort of a cute, playful, hip or fun thing whatsoever. In fact I smell a slightly snobby whiff in it .
I didn`t `click` the `D prior to F` so read it again.
The absence of the E. is just repeated oulipo and adds nothing.
On reflection the addressing words:
`Writing about an owl fascinating my soul Mr G.P`
`Mr G. A. Your brilliant translation`
Have, in that `fascinating` and `brilliant` something of a faint sneer about them as the writer -in unremarkable language – carps (`do you` `would you` `how would` `just how`) questioningly on the mere fact that sometimes symbolic interpretations can differ in different places.
Her:
`An individual ululation
has multi-marks and plural compound chords
varying on points, skirting all canons
that control thoughts, though producing discords.`
(is gainsaid by the `thought` behind the `ululated` discords of the Punk rock movement)
These points, together with the clumsy and retarding effect of the owl –hoot imitations, and the hotch-potch nature of the final section prevent me from seeing it as any sort of a cute, playful, hip or fun thing whatsoever. In fact I smell a slightly snobby whiff in it .
Mon, 16 Dec 2013 10:45 pm
Sorry for posting and then disappearing, a bit naughty of me.
Hi Greg,
I have not and would not enter anything for the Troubadour. Every year, every winning and commended poem has the same taste and it is not one I enjoy. What I find dismaying does not relate to entering the competition, it relates to not being able to enjoy any of the entries that are listed as winning or commendable. The narrow nature of what is accepted as quality or worthwhile by these gate keepers of taste is imo quite tragic.
Music-less prose, chopped up into lines, as though layout makes it poetry. Never a commended entry that uses any/much in the way of poetic devices. 9/10 I refuse to even acknowledge what is being passed off as poetry, as poetry at all. I assume that poems written in black verse, or metered and rhymed, or to differing structures, traditional or otherwise are entered - irrespective they never feature.
What we tend to get is turgid prose. I am not talking about free verse verses xyz here, that discussion is old hat and pointless. I am saying that anything approaching poetic devices in free verse are also usually palpable by their absence. So we do not get the prose poem even. We have reached a point where most of the entires chosen resemble little more than cryptic extracts from would-be novels. Usually pretentious nonsense packed with middle-clArse allusion.
Comparing and contrasting what is said to be commended with the likes ofR.S Thomas, or in modern terms with Simon Armitage, Hugh Dunkerley, Andrew Motion etc etc. it's woeful. The poets I mention generally are free verse, their poems are/were skillfully crafted, often musical, dense and requiring effort from the reader.
When sound is close to irrelevant, when poetic device avoided at all cost, when the words chosen so lacking in continuity, yet rarely so as to create a deliberate cognitive dissonance, when allusion is used so alarmingly often so as to try to create gravitas or quality by association. I could go on...
If this form of poetry (being kind) is the flavour of the moment - fine, but when it is to the almost total exclusion of other forms and styles of poetry...I would just love to read poetry I enjoy, at the highest level, for inspiration as much as anything else.
But I and people like me are denied that.
Harry, words escape me. I guess I should not be surprised to see that you have dissected the poem and analysed it in time honoured fashion, with a razor sharp eye I might add - all credit to you, I enjoyed your analysis more than I did the poem. I can only applaud you and say that I came to the same conclusion, with far less patience and possibly greater exasperation.
Hi Greg,
I have not and would not enter anything for the Troubadour. Every year, every winning and commended poem has the same taste and it is not one I enjoy. What I find dismaying does not relate to entering the competition, it relates to not being able to enjoy any of the entries that are listed as winning or commendable. The narrow nature of what is accepted as quality or worthwhile by these gate keepers of taste is imo quite tragic.
Music-less prose, chopped up into lines, as though layout makes it poetry. Never a commended entry that uses any/much in the way of poetic devices. 9/10 I refuse to even acknowledge what is being passed off as poetry, as poetry at all. I assume that poems written in black verse, or metered and rhymed, or to differing structures, traditional or otherwise are entered - irrespective they never feature.
What we tend to get is turgid prose. I am not talking about free verse verses xyz here, that discussion is old hat and pointless. I am saying that anything approaching poetic devices in free verse are also usually palpable by their absence. So we do not get the prose poem even. We have reached a point where most of the entires chosen resemble little more than cryptic extracts from would-be novels. Usually pretentious nonsense packed with middle-clArse allusion.
Comparing and contrasting what is said to be commended with the likes ofR.S Thomas, or in modern terms with Simon Armitage, Hugh Dunkerley, Andrew Motion etc etc. it's woeful. The poets I mention generally are free verse, their poems are/were skillfully crafted, often musical, dense and requiring effort from the reader.
When sound is close to irrelevant, when poetic device avoided at all cost, when the words chosen so lacking in continuity, yet rarely so as to create a deliberate cognitive dissonance, when allusion is used so alarmingly often so as to try to create gravitas or quality by association. I could go on...
If this form of poetry (being kind) is the flavour of the moment - fine, but when it is to the almost total exclusion of other forms and styles of poetry...I would just love to read poetry I enjoy, at the highest level, for inspiration as much as anything else.
But I and people like me are denied that.
Harry, words escape me. I guess I should not be surprised to see that you have dissected the poem and analysed it in time honoured fashion, with a razor sharp eye I might add - all credit to you, I enjoyed your analysis more than I did the poem. I can only applaud you and say that I came to the same conclusion, with far less patience and possibly greater exasperation.
Thu, 19 Dec 2013 06:45 pm
Thanks for your reply, Chris, and apologies for my originally slightly flippant tone. You raise many interesting points, and I find myself much in sympathy with your comments about "gatekeepers". But I also find the conflicts and contrasts of these issues enduringly fascinating. Thanks too to Harry for his painstaking analysis of the poem, which frankly took my breath away, and to Steve too for chipping in. Always rewarding when you put up a news item and it stimulates a conversation like this. Thanks, chaps. I hope we will continue to cast a sceptical eye on the poetry values of the establishment/them down south.
Fri, 20 Dec 2013 07:06 am
I think y'all have tin ears if you think that's cut-up prose. It has quite a strong rhythm - or maybe listening to too much modern jazz has infected my hearing...
Fri, 20 Dec 2013 09:51 am
As to allusion: the poet refers to a well-known writer of Oulipean literature revered across the world. Anything you wish to know about him is available on wikipedia, with the possible exception that there might be a reference to the sound of an owl in La Disparation, hence the occassion of the poem.
This isn't the greatest poem in the world. It's the only poem by this writer I'm aware of but I'd be interested to read more.
I don't see why, incidentally, a writer who is obviously from the far East, should make references to things that would be only familiar to people in England. But this could be understood by pretty much anyone anywhere without much difficulty.
This isn't the greatest poem in the world. It's the only poem by this writer I'm aware of but I'd be interested to read more.
I don't see why, incidentally, a writer who is obviously from the far East, should make references to things that would be only familiar to people in England. But this could be understood by pretty much anyone anywhere without much difficulty.
Fri, 20 Dec 2013 10:22 am
Hey Greg, no apology required. I know quite a lot of people view competitions solely from the viewpoint of entering them and that's perfectly reasonable too. It isn't that I don't enter competitions, just that I am more interested overall in reading poems that have won or been commended - to see if there is any joy or intellectual enjoyment to be found.
I wonder, how many high quality poems are we denied the pleasure of reading, coming as they do in forms that are not considered "fitting", or for want of a better word - "allowed".
Sorry Steven, but I think you've failed to understand the central tenet of my argument, to which the poem provided is but one small part. If you have enjoyed the poem then good for you (genuinely). I do not like the poem and see very little in it of any worth - my opinion, my preogative - each of us to our own.
The bigger picture is the one I painted regarding the very narrow nature of styles and types of poems accepted by "these gatekeepers". The reality of which is self evident.
P.S
If you think the poem in question reads well - I welcome you to try reading it to the public or at any poetry event. In all seriousness, please do. Lead balloon and tumble weed await!
All credit again Harry on the analysis, to Steven to for the related contributions.
Sodding which - Merry Christmas everyone!
Off to get some mulled wine and settle down to Larkin. He may not cheer me, but I do so enjoy his words :)
I wonder, how many high quality poems are we denied the pleasure of reading, coming as they do in forms that are not considered "fitting", or for want of a better word - "allowed".
Sorry Steven, but I think you've failed to understand the central tenet of my argument, to which the poem provided is but one small part. If you have enjoyed the poem then good for you (genuinely). I do not like the poem and see very little in it of any worth - my opinion, my preogative - each of us to our own.
The bigger picture is the one I painted regarding the very narrow nature of styles and types of poems accepted by "these gatekeepers". The reality of which is self evident.
P.S
If you think the poem in question reads well - I welcome you to try reading it to the public or at any poetry event. In all seriousness, please do. Lead balloon and tumble weed await!
All credit again Harry on the analysis, to Steven to for the related contributions.
Sodding which - Merry Christmas everyone!
Off to get some mulled wine and settle down to Larkin. He may not cheer me, but I do so enjoy his words :)
Sat, 21 Dec 2013 06:24 pm
Well you did also say it would appeal only to a literary 'cognescenti'- and I would challenge that. I don't think it's elitest because I think Georges Perec is fairly well known worldwide. I don't think the poem even requires much knowledge; I've never read any Perec and with a modicum of deduction worked out that there was probably something about the sound of an owl in it.
And I don't think it's at heart about literary theory either; it's about perception. The owl is heard different in a different language and is good in one culture and sinister in another. Which may be an intellectual idea rather than an emotional experience; but frankly there aren't enough ideas in poetry.
I did sound it out and think it would be OK in certain readings. Not slam material, or frankly most performance poetry nights. And you'd have to practice the 'twooo's'...
But I only quite like it and I've probably spent too long on it a poem that is OK rather than great. Personally, I'd rather read a poet like Roy Fisher or Basil Bunting than Larkin. But Merry Christmas.
And I don't think it's at heart about literary theory either; it's about perception. The owl is heard different in a different language and is good in one culture and sinister in another. Which may be an intellectual idea rather than an emotional experience; but frankly there aren't enough ideas in poetry.
I did sound it out and think it would be OK in certain readings. Not slam material, or frankly most performance poetry nights. And you'd have to practice the 'twooo's'...
But I only quite like it and I've probably spent too long on it a poem that is OK rather than great. Personally, I'd rather read a poet like Roy Fisher or Basil Bunting than Larkin. But Merry Christmas.
Mon, 23 Dec 2013 09:14 pm