A meditation of 78 poems on the themes of inertia, procrastination, laziness, boredom, ennui, apathy, torpor, lethargy, disinterest, inaction, sluggishness, indolence, creative blocks, work-avoidance, failure and other afflictions. These are the last words on very tired subjects.
It would be a relief if I could resign myself To unproductivity and simply exist Unburdened by this tiresome need to produce That has been the cause of so much unpleasantness. It’s not as if I do anything with my time And as for most of the people who do accomplish Anything: one rather wishes they hadn’t bothered either. Accomplishment, I suspect, is overrated.
How can you not love poetry on the topic of ennui? Tottenham is so dry and funny, he makes of lassitude a noble, or at least highly sympathetic, endeavor. Not since Bartleby the Scrivener, with which this has a great deal in common, does the refusal to scuttle about and reach for the goals that are laid out for us as what we should want, feel so sensible. I think it's a great book about writing, because it's in large part the poetic inner sanctum of authorly self-loathing. What's great about Tottenham--is that it's the perfect antidote to the "don't think bad thoughts" spiritual gogetterism. I'm not advocating lassitude as a way of life--but SO refreshing!!!!
Went through it two consecutive times, forth and back, and I will probably have to get back at it at least for a third time if not more. The one poem that stuck with me is "Nothing".
No one makes inertia more applaudable than Tottenham. That's a given. But how many can amuse in the process? Hands down, he's the king. See for yourself if you don't believe it's possible.