Michael Jenkins's Blog - Posts Tagged "writing"
Poetaster Extraordinaire
Hey, folks. Do any of you remember Sanjaya? He was one of the finalists in season 7’s American Idol. He had a huge group following that allowed him to last for much of the show but the only problem was he was awful; not William Hung awful, but awful all the same.
Critics of the show were perplexed why Sanjaya remained on the show despite the Idol judges abhorring his singing and after a certain point, failed to give constructive criticism on his performances.
The judges would listen to him sing and then go, “Ok, next.”
Simon Cowell even stated that if Sanjaya won American Idol that year, he wouldn’t have come back the next, because determining the next American Idol is a very important thing, apparently.
At first, I thought the Sanjaya phenomenon was just a display of low-brow, unenlightened public-opinion run amuck, but I don’t think that’s the case anymore. Not after reading about Julia A. Moore. Have you guys heard of Julia A. Moore?
Julia Moore was a poet in the late 19th century. The wife of a farmer and mother to 10 children (6 of whom made it to adulthood!), Julia wrote poetry and had the pamphlets up for sale in her Edgerton, Michigan store. One day, a Cleveland-based publisher named James F. Ryder came across one of Julia’s pamphlets and immediately ordered a second-printing. Ryder then sent copies of Julia’s collection, The Sentimental Songbook, along with a letter of overindulgent praise, to every major newspaper in the country.
“[The Sentimental Songbook] will prove a lift to the overtaxed brain. It may divert the despondent from suicide. It should enable the reader to forget the ‘stringency,’ and guide the thoughts into pleasanter channels. It is productive of good to humanity.”
Sounds like a brain and nerve tonic, doesn’t it? So, what exactly was Julia writing about in her poetry that could alleviate the inherent awfulness of human existence? Oh, you know, children falling down wells, deadly epidemics, train wrecks, crib death, and kids choking to death on their dinners. Just thinking about those things make me feel better.
Some people saw what Ryder saw and immediately “praised” her work. Other critics went the other route and had fun giving terrible reviews.
One newspaper wrote, “It is rare food for the lunatic. Shakespeare, could he read it, would be glad that he was dead.”
Another notable review said, “I have counted 21 killed and nine wounded in the small volume she has given to the public. Julia is worse than a Gatlin gun.”
Whether the reviews be negative or positive, The Sentimental Songbook became one of the best-selling poetry books of its day. Even Mark Twain was a fan! Twenty years after the original printing, Twain wrote, “The Sentimental Songbook has long been out of print, and has been forgotten by the world in general, but not by me. I carry it with me always.”
How did Julia react to all this press? She was not surprised by her own fame and figured that it was only going to be a matter of time when her genius was discovered.
However, months into her best-selling fame, she gave a reading complete with an orchestra. She thought all the boos and heckles from the crowd were because of the shoddy orchestral music that was playing.
So, a little while later, she gave another reading of her poetry sans orchestra. When she finally saw that people were heckling and laughing so hard they fell out of their chairs at her poetry, she finally realized the truth. It was a joke. It was all a big joke at her unwitting expense. Can you imagine what that moment must have been for her? When it finally all comes together, like the Kobayashi mug-drop in The Usual Suspects except it was somebody’s life.
I learned about Julia Moore years ago and at first found it remarkably funny; a running gag that the whole country can get in on; a 19th century Chuck Norris joke. But I’ve been thinking a lot about her lately in a more empathetic view. Do you ever think that maybe some of the things you do could possibly be quite terrible? Like, for instance, comedy essays? And the support you receive from others are actually attempts to keep the joke going, but you don’t question it because you’re blind to your own shortcomings? Maybe that’s the 4th dimension we just can’t see out of our grasp. Just something to think about. I ordered a copy of The Sentimental Songbook. I framed it as a reminder and keep it on my desk. I’ll close with a small poem from Julia.
“And now kind friends, what I have wrote,
I hope you will pass o’er
And not criticize, as some have done,
Hitherto herebefore.”
Signed,
Michael T. Moore.
Critics of the show were perplexed why Sanjaya remained on the show despite the Idol judges abhorring his singing and after a certain point, failed to give constructive criticism on his performances.
The judges would listen to him sing and then go, “Ok, next.”
Simon Cowell even stated that if Sanjaya won American Idol that year, he wouldn’t have come back the next, because determining the next American Idol is a very important thing, apparently.
At first, I thought the Sanjaya phenomenon was just a display of low-brow, unenlightened public-opinion run amuck, but I don’t think that’s the case anymore. Not after reading about Julia A. Moore. Have you guys heard of Julia A. Moore?
Julia Moore was a poet in the late 19th century. The wife of a farmer and mother to 10 children (6 of whom made it to adulthood!), Julia wrote poetry and had the pamphlets up for sale in her Edgerton, Michigan store. One day, a Cleveland-based publisher named James F. Ryder came across one of Julia’s pamphlets and immediately ordered a second-printing. Ryder then sent copies of Julia’s collection, The Sentimental Songbook, along with a letter of overindulgent praise, to every major newspaper in the country.
“[The Sentimental Songbook] will prove a lift to the overtaxed brain. It may divert the despondent from suicide. It should enable the reader to forget the ‘stringency,’ and guide the thoughts into pleasanter channels. It is productive of good to humanity.”
Sounds like a brain and nerve tonic, doesn’t it? So, what exactly was Julia writing about in her poetry that could alleviate the inherent awfulness of human existence? Oh, you know, children falling down wells, deadly epidemics, train wrecks, crib death, and kids choking to death on their dinners. Just thinking about those things make me feel better.
Some people saw what Ryder saw and immediately “praised” her work. Other critics went the other route and had fun giving terrible reviews.
One newspaper wrote, “It is rare food for the lunatic. Shakespeare, could he read it, would be glad that he was dead.”
Another notable review said, “I have counted 21 killed and nine wounded in the small volume she has given to the public. Julia is worse than a Gatlin gun.”
Whether the reviews be negative or positive, The Sentimental Songbook became one of the best-selling poetry books of its day. Even Mark Twain was a fan! Twenty years after the original printing, Twain wrote, “The Sentimental Songbook has long been out of print, and has been forgotten by the world in general, but not by me. I carry it with me always.”
How did Julia react to all this press? She was not surprised by her own fame and figured that it was only going to be a matter of time when her genius was discovered.
However, months into her best-selling fame, she gave a reading complete with an orchestra. She thought all the boos and heckles from the crowd were because of the shoddy orchestral music that was playing.
So, a little while later, she gave another reading of her poetry sans orchestra. When she finally saw that people were heckling and laughing so hard they fell out of their chairs at her poetry, she finally realized the truth. It was a joke. It was all a big joke at her unwitting expense. Can you imagine what that moment must have been for her? When it finally all comes together, like the Kobayashi mug-drop in The Usual Suspects except it was somebody’s life.
I learned about Julia Moore years ago and at first found it remarkably funny; a running gag that the whole country can get in on; a 19th century Chuck Norris joke. But I’ve been thinking a lot about her lately in a more empathetic view. Do you ever think that maybe some of the things you do could possibly be quite terrible? Like, for instance, comedy essays? And the support you receive from others are actually attempts to keep the joke going, but you don’t question it because you’re blind to your own shortcomings? Maybe that’s the 4th dimension we just can’t see out of our grasp. Just something to think about. I ordered a copy of The Sentimental Songbook. I framed it as a reminder and keep it on my desk. I’ll close with a small poem from Julia.
“And now kind friends, what I have wrote,
I hope you will pass o’er
And not criticize, as some have done,
Hitherto herebefore.”
Signed,
Michael T. Moore.
