My Name Is William Tell: Poems

by William Stafford

Lewiston, Confluence Press,, (1992.). Fine in fine dust jacket.. First printing. Uncommon hardcover edition of this book, winner of the 1992 Western States Book Award Lifetime Achievement in Poetry. Index of titles. 78 pp.

Genres: Poetry

78 pages, Paperback

First published August 15, 1992

About the author

William Edgar Stafford was an American poet and pacifist, and the father of poet and essayist Kim Stafford. He and his writings are sometimes identified with the Pacific Northwest.

In 1970, he was named Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress, a position that is now known as Poet Laureate. In 1975, he was named Poet Laureate of Oregon; his tenure in the position lasted until 1990. In 1980, he retired from Lewis & Clark College but continued to travel extensively and give public readings of his poetry. In 1992, he won the Western States Book Award for lifetime achievement in poetry.


Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William...

Reviews

[Nathan Albright · Rating 5 out of 5]

One might think with the title like this, this prize-winning book of poetry, which won the Western States Book Award for Lifetime Achievement in Poetry in 1992, the tongue is being lodged firmly in cheek.  After all, William Stafford [1] was a noted pacifist who paid for his convictions with years in what amounted to prison labor in a CO camp.  Yet this book shows Stafford at his most fiery, largely because he appears to have taken offense at being considered a regional poet.  True, William Stafford acquired his reputation as a poet after moving to Oregon and was long the state's poet laureate and a teacher at William & Clark College.  Yet Stafford's poetry has always been more than merely Oregonian in nature, not least because so much of his poetry finds him reflecting on his prairie upbringing in Kansas as well as various musings from his travels to many other places, some of which are very much in evidence in this particular volume.  Yet while grousing about the critics who labeled him as a regional poet, he also points out that poetic inspiration comes from whatever is close to us, and wherever we happen to be, that will be our region.

In this short book of around 80 pages published by a small regional publisher, the author begins with a short poem that expresses his irritation and the slings and arrows of critics and makes the above noted grousing about being labeled as a regional poet.  After this the book is divided into four parts:  "Doing My Job," "Dreams Of Childhood," "Our Town Owned A Story," and "Crossing The Campus."  As might be imagined for beginning in such a pugnacious fashion, this book of poetry has a great deal of interest.  We may note, for example, that included among the poems here is a reference to the noted Northwest regional poet Richard Hugo, along with a few works that reflect the author's cosmopolitan interests like the paintings at Lascaux in France, animals like the quail, and even a melancholy ode to youth in reflecting on a young business traveler in an airport.  Some of the poems reflect college, some of them the author's own anti-war stance like a poem dedicated to a .38, and plenty of poems reflect the author's usual interests in memory, family, and creation, as well as communication.  Stafford seems to be both relishing as well as bristling at being labeled and put into a box as a poet.

Indeed, this book of poetry finds William Stafford in a strange place.  One might think that age would mellow people, yet this book is among the least mellow of Stafford's books.  Was Stafford upset about the way that war had been made to look like a video game in the Gulf War, where death came from above where those who delivered it were relatively safe from harm while pressing buttons that would level those miles below?  Did Stafford get a bit more sensitive and a bit more grouchy in his old age in contrast to those who mellow out?  Had the losses and difficulties of life made Stafford a bit more bothered by the problems that he saw would remain long after he was gone and that he may have hoped to do something about?  It is hard to say.  It is easy to speculate about where someone's heart and mind were in the face of life's troubles and discouragements, but as someone whose writing has long reflected my own intense personal concerns, it is easy to wonder where someone is while they are creating writing like this.  Being William Tell is no laughing matter, after all.

[1] See, for example:

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2016...

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2018...

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2018...

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2018...

[Penny · Rating 3 out of 5]

I must admit to not particularly warming to this slim volume of late poems by William Stafford as much as I assumed I would. I like personal poetry, as a rule, but the poems must be accessible and not quite so "opaque" (another reader's word). Rereading didn't help very much, as I didn't always have a reference point. Perhaps knowing more of Stafford's biography, his early childhood, would have helped. And perhaps Stafford recognized this opacity and the challenge it would present to the reader, when he ended the book's final poem "You, Reader" with the line, "Now, go back and begin again."

Several poems were poignant, particularly "Widow," as I can identify with the experience myself, as I too have "X'd out the calendar that had waited all year for this date." I also like his connection to and empathy for the "more than human world (Bill Plotkin)," particularly "Bedtime Story," which reminds us that we are part of the animal world, despite the fact that we "have insurance and keep children for pets." "Experiments" also hit hard on that score"Part of the cost, we knew was the pain, but the budget didn't show that." "Some Remarks When Richard Hugo Came," for which I again had no referent, nonetheless hit its target as a profound statement on the personal devastation wrought by war on the warrior, albeit many years later.

The plan is now to get some of his earlier works for comparison and revisit. "Go back, and begin again."

[Robert · Rating 1 out of 5]

I read it - but I don't "get" it. He won the Western States Book Award Lifetime Achievement in Poetry award, the National Book Award, and what has now become the Poet Laureate of the United States. So, obviously the problem is with ME, not with him.
I am reminded of the wonderful poem by Billy Collins, "Introduction to Poetry," in which he describes the reaction of his poetry students upon reading a poem: "all they want to do is tie the poem to a chair with rope and torture a confession out of it. They begin beating it with a hose to find out what it really means."
So, now I must confess: if I had a hose I would start beating these poems by Stafford too - with the rest of the students. What on earth do they mean?

[Jason · Rating 3 out of 5]

Really more like 3.5 -- when Stafford is at his very best, as he often is when writing about violence or the natural world, there are few better. Unfortunately, some of the poems feel really opaque, which is more problematic than it would be for many poets, given how lucid and transparent and delicate his work characteristically is.

[SmarterLilac · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reveals to us an underappreciated side of Stafford--namely, his dark one.