Susan Howe was born in 1937 in Boston, Massachusetts. She is the author of several books of poems and two volumes of criticism. Her most recent poetry collections are The Midnight (2003), Kidnapped (2002), The Europe of Trusts (2002), Pierce-Arrow (1999), Frame Structures: Early Poems 1974-1979 (1996), The Nonconformist's Memorial (1993), The Europe of Trusts: Selected Poems (1990), and Singularities (1990).
Her books of criticism are The Birth-Mark: Unsettling the Wilderness in American Literary History (1993), which was named an "International Book of the Year" by the Times Literary Supplement, and My Emily Dickinson (1985).
Her work also has appeared in Anthology of American Poetry, edited by Cary Nelson (Oxford University Press, 1999); The Norton Anthology of Contemporary American Poetry (2003); and Poems for the Millennium, Volume 2, edited by Pierre Joris and Jerome Rotherberg (1998).
She has received two American Book Awards from the Before Columbus Foundation and was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1999. In 1996 she was awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship and in the winter of 1998 she was a distinguished fellow at the Stanford Institute of the Humanities.
Mainly picked up this book for "The Defenestration of Prague" and that was indeed the poem that had the greatest presence. Especially "Speeches at the Barriers". I think that the early poems in this chapter are totally unconcerned with sound -- the words themselves are rather ugly. But Howe has imported the system of work and reward (compression and release, etc.) from the regime of sound/phonetics into the regime of images/movement/space i.e. semantics or signifieds or what have you. The images are quite humble and do not draw attention to their own precision. If anything the defining feature is intentionality. The Europe of Trusts sounds nothing like Olson but I haven't yet grown out of making Olson comparisons with Howe: the substance being managed here is distance, and Howe is like a woman standing at her backdoor looking out at her backyard, looking up at the sky and down at the ground, being her own sort of Gloucester. In each poem the substances starts out and comes in, or starts in and goes out, or something else--each poem is like one discrete historical vector. But you have to really picture the meaning of the words; reading the words is not enough. Even now, writing this review and going back to look at these poems just a few hours after reading them carefully, skimming over one (even reading every word) is like nothing, I can't recognize or call back up the feeling. It demands a continuous motion of the phantom, a suspension. But yeah, this poetry sounds nothing like Olson: Howe rebukes breath here, completely. Was a good trial for me in remembering that my one way of reading poetry isn't universally compatible.
And GOD the last one is so good, coming on the tail of all the others, of all those discrete sweeping motions; "20. Horsemen with outstretched arms...". This is poetry that doesn't make me anxious that I didn't write it myself. Why? It is so slow, it is affective but in the very deep point of interior thought grappling with a boatload of facts and book-knowledge and HIStory. It's like the thought-phenomenon of rationally pursuing a historically distant affect. It reminds me of the feeling when the going gets good with my ancient greek and Xenophon starts recounting his dream... We're dealing with history, it refuses to be symphonic. But after much time and many words, we can feel little glides, or swoops...
I didn't get there with "Pythagorean Silence". And while I enjoyed the introduction to "The Liberties" and some of its poem, I really didn't get there with the play(s). I think part III is most effective, playing the declarative historical voice present in the rest of The Europe of Trusts against the materiality of Stella and Swift's mutual burial site.
One of the most striking features of Howe's poetry is how affective and effective the language. There are a great deal of moments in her poetry where Howe's language doesn't make syntactic or narrative sense, but still conveys a certain rhythm or implacable meaning. Howe's work did not always make complete sense to me, but the construction and intricacy struck me.
This collection showcases some of the breadth of Howe's experimental style, particularly with the inclusion of The Liberties. This collection features an examination of female suffering at the hands of tyrannical patriarchal figures, particularly centering around Cordelia from King Lear and Stella, a major figure in Jonathan Swift's life. The poetry shifts between dramatic form and poetic form, adding to the complexity of the "performative" aspects of Howe's poetics.
One of Howe's strengths as a poet comes with her attention to polysyllabic sonic textures. Her works are always attentive to a sense of hearing the work, even if they are not necessarily meant to have a musicality to them. The sense of interrelation between lines, stanzas, and images also comes from her sonic sensibilities.
Her work is above all intriguing. It provokes thought and consideration, and is particularly helpful for poets who are beginning to look towards experimental forms and experimental language. Howe provides a point of entry for writers and readers to recognize the power of individual words and the work they do.
Bought this the same week as My Life from a different vendor but both books were from the same library. Pythagorean silence is now a favourite though it took some time to get (dis)oriented by the words, to see how they moved my eyes across the page, how they moved my feelings, and their sound on my lips.
Among my favorite of Howe's books, I go back and back and back to this text, obsessively re-reading into and around it, examining how it moves on the page, in my mind, what it says and evokes, how it sounds in my head or on my lips, where it places me and what it tells me of self, other, thens, nows, language, leanings.
Generally speaking I understand almost nothing of what Howe writes, but I love the work anyway. This book was mostly disappointing to me. Often skirting right at the edge of "sense" but feeling too abstracted and "brainy" and not rooted enough in language.
Initially found this less accessible than the others I'd read, but after two readings I think "Pythagorean Silence" is one of the most amazing poems I've ever read.