I’ll start by saying I’m a massive, massive fan of Jandek’s sonic output (I own physical copies of the vast majority of his discography on CD and vinyl, and I’ve been lucky enough to have attended 4 live performances), and so when news broke that Corwood Industries has published its first book, to say I was giddy with joy would be an understatement. I remember gasping and exclaiming and ordering it immediately using my smartphone whilst stopped at a traffic light (which in and of itself was quite surreal, as I well-remember the days when the only way to order from Corwood was to write to the P.O. Box, send a check or money order). And so yes, I was biased going into this reading experience. To deny that would be futile.
I should also say that Jandek’s controversial trilogy of voice-only albums happen to be among my very favorites of his many releases. I’ve gone back to those albums again and again. I say this because the contents of this book resemble in a lot of ways the less direct moments on those records, tracks like “Just Like The Floor” or “Ten O’clock Shadows” from This Narrow Road, tracks I’m very very fond of. So, another point of bias for me. I can’t possibly be impartial, and I accept that.
But now, having read it six times (no need to be too impressed, it’s only 28 pages), I’m firmly convinced of its greatness, its tiny mightiness. And bias be damned, this is terrific stuff, undeniably potent. Because even after all those reads, I still feel like reading it again. It’s a beautifully cryptic eleven part prose poem, and much like his best albums, which have a seemingly infinite replay value, The Rays Of Light That Did Not Illumine possesses a seemingly infinite reread value. I’ve yet to exhaust it’s charms, and it persists in haunting my mental hollows long after I’ve put it down and gone on to other things.
An example of the prose would maybe be helpful. So, a section that really sang to me:
“No. It was something else he was after. Not skin. Not bone. The ethereal essence. The candid quality of the ghost who enthralls. The beatific surge of heartfelt soaring shiver. Something not touched. He wanted to feel. Really feel. Mental sensation. Soul spring. Ever enduring flowers. Color splash. Nubile maiden in the breeze swept grasses. Dark eyes in the shade of deep trees. Darting movement. The fanciful flight. Young breasted mercy.”
(p. 16)
If you enjoy that excerpt, give this slim volume a look. Read it slowly and aloud and in a single sitting for maximum effect. Do it several times and see how you feel.
Highly recommended to just about any fan of contemporary poetry. Absolutely mandatory for the few, the proud, the Jandek fans. I certainly hope he’s got some more books in him. But if not, at least we’ve got this one, and enough recorded music to keep us busy for a very, very long time.
Bizarre little fella. I noticed about halfway through that there were no commas, exclamation points, or question marks. Like how early in the artist's music career, he refused to use frets on his guitar.
A swirling, blackened void of a book. I’ve been aware of Jandek for a long time and one of the few bits of information I knew was he wrote five books which were burned upon rejection. So suffice to say, it’s been a long time coming and it was an experience to finally read his work. Incredible.