About Critique
#1
I’ve spent about twenty years critiquing poetry. I do it because I love poetry and I like to see good poems develop. I read a poem like I’m watching a tightrope walker. I keep moving line to line thinking good, good, don’t fall.

I’m drawn to great openings, strong line breaks, and tight phrasing that doesn’t lead me too much and possesses subtlety.


What do you look for in a poem and why do you critique?
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
Reply
#2
I love a poem that gives me something I haven't read before - a new way at looking at something, a fresh metaphor, a clever construction. I've read a lot of poems and no longer expect an epiphany, but I do like to come across a different point of view. Subtlety is important for me too - poetry should have layers, not just be straightforward otherwise why not just write a news report?

I critique because with every new piece I read, I learn something either about the world, or about myself. Close reading often helps to order your own thoughts. So basically, I critique because I'm selfish.
It could be worse
Reply
#3
I read poetry for the same reasons I skip pages in a novel, I want the get to the good bits, the killer line with a softer line underneath that only I can see, the connection between writer and reader that lets me look differently at something I thought I knew or something so strange, that I want to meet it.

I critique to let the writer know what it was that got through to me, where I felt the connection as a reader and what pages I wanted to skip and why. I do this because I know every poem can be improved and I want to be part of that process. I like poems with a plot, characters, sights, sounds and smells, poems with a beginning middle and end that changes the way I feel for a moment, so I guess I am drawn to poems that contain a short novel in 12ish wonderfully constructed lines.

If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
Reply
#4
How many times have you read literary criticism and then went back and read a poem and liked it better? Even if the critic is wrong. Sometimes it works. And the poem takes off for new. Poetry is a wild thing. But I have been told I shouldn't say such naive things.

And you have poets who are also critics. And then the poetry and the criticism become one. Then you have to get a bigger critic and a bigger poet, and the lovely fight goes on.

And there are some of us that are just batshit crazy, . . . But we're just so relentlessly convincing.

And I think that criticism is a creative activity. And is no more scientific than a poem. And shouldn't be. And that it's fun and enlightening and enjoyable. And so, people should learn to like it.

Writing your own poems, however, is frustrating and embarrassing and uncertain and passionate and nasty and painful and intoxicating and almost sexual, but without the benefit of a partner.
Reply
#5
I'm a picky reader. If a poem doesn't connect to me in some way, then I lose interest. That doesn't mean the poem is bad, it just means I'm a selfish reader, who feels everything needs to be about me on some level. I think that's why I'm drawn to confessional poets like Plath and Bukowski. It's easy to empathize with their feelings because they're so damn good at expressing them. To me, a poem isn't worth reading if it isn't rooted in strong emotion.

I never even thought about critiquing a poem before joining this site. To be honest, I found some of my first critiques absolutely nerve wrecking. Even now, I have moments where after I write a critique I wonder if I said something about the poem that was just completely insane, but then there are times I say something that the poet really responds to, and that's what makes the critique worthwhile. I find now I am often motivated to write a critique because as I read the poem, something came to my mind that I feel would help make it stronger. My day job is as a teacher, so I think it's just part of my personality to want to help people improve, whether they be students or fellow aspiring poets.
Time is the best editor.
Reply
#6
I haven't seen any faults in your critical judgments, Richard. You're a teacher and do what a teacher should do. Never overstep or force anything. Guide but don't demand.

Now I'm going to ask a technical question: Not to neglect your serious pronouncement, Todd: People are perfectly welcome to ignore me: . . . Um, The idea of so-called greatness, the Tolstoys and the Flauberts and the, well. And the sloppy writers . . . the Strindbergs and the D. H. Lawrences and the Bukowskis and the Henry Millers and the political speeches, if I can fit them in there, and the Dostoevskys and John Berrymans of the world. What most appeals to people, even the most well-read and intelligent people? The polished writers, or the wacky/possibly inane, not insane, inane writers? And this is for everybody. What do you think? We're all trying our best. But what inspires you more? The straight or the crooked? I'll base the rest of my life on the overwhelming answer.
Reply
#7
i'm not one of the better critics on the site. i do like my own work being critiqued, [harsh or kind]
i look for things i can make sense of, many poems escape me in which case i say so. i like a poem that's original while enticing a poem that invites me in with a solid opening and keeps my eyes nailed to the text. i think critique is either objective/subjective and any mix in between. i'm not always able to be objective but sometimes it can be easy. i just spelled retched as wretched in the last poem i did pointing that out to me was being objective. many times we can be objective as to if a poem is a well written one, that said i'm more objective with my feedback. i also learn from the feedback i give, after reading all the feedback i can gauge to some extent if mine was good or not, it's a self help method, without it i'd be a lot worse at giving feedback than i am.
Reply
#8
(10-24-2018, 08:03 AM)Leanne Wrote:  I love a poem that gives me something I haven't read before - a new way at looking at something, a fresh metaphor, a clever construction.  I've read a lot of poems and no longer expect an epiphany, but I do like to come across a different point of view.  Subtlety is important for me too - poetry should have layers, not just be straightforward otherwise why not just write a news report?

I critique because with every new piece I read, I learn something either about the world, or about myself.  Close reading often helps to order your own thoughts.  So basically, I critique because I'm selfish.
I agree. I like how critique slows you down and makes you approach the poem carefully. I have learned much more from the poem through close reading.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
Reply
#9
(10-24-2018, 10:28 AM)rowens Wrote:  I haven't seen any faults in your critical judgments, Richard. You're a teacher and do what a teacher should do. Never overstep or force anything. Guide but don't demand.

Now I'm going to ask a technical question: Not to neglect your serious pronouncement, Todd: People are perfectly welcome to ignore me: . . . Um, The idea of so-called greatness, the Tolstoys and the Flauberts and the, well. And the sloppy writers . . . the Strindbergs and the D. H. Lawrences and the Bukowskis and the Henry Millers and the political speeches, if I can fit them in there, and the Dostoevskys and John Berrymans of the world. What most appeals to people, even the most well-read and intelligent people? The polished writers, or the wacky/possibly inane, not insane, inane writers? And this is for everybody. What do you think? We're all trying our best. But what inspires you more? The straight or the crooked? I'll base the rest of my life on the overwhelming answer.
I don't carve them up that way between polished and insane. I think I like my content to be at a bit of a slant. I don't like all great writers but those I do like show me something about being human. For instance, I find Dostoyevsky a bit hard to get through--probably because of how writing has changed in the last hundred years. I do have moments with him though where I gain great insight about people. 

“The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself.”

That said, I tend to like the quirky. One modern writer I find myself connecting with is Jonathan Lethem. He's sort of a modern Philip K Dick--especially if you read his Ode to Dick--"Gun With Occassional Music".

I'm the same way with poets. I like a mix of the greats and the odd. It's more a matter of taste I guess.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
Reply
#10
I always hear that Lovecraft is a horrible writer. But I think it is that style that makes him a solid, serious writer. I don't laugh or mock when I read Lovecraft. I like reading literary criticism, absorb it all, digest it, circulate it. Then reject it. Those rules and opinions and standards are only barely conscious when I read. And I believe everything I read as I'm reading it, with critical thought coming later. I think that's a good way to make it through a book. It is for me.
Reply
#11
Having little to add on this topic, quick repost from thread "Why Crit Works:"

Quote:Was just reading an essay on open-source (computer) programming and a, maybe, profound insight popped out:

"With enough eyes, every bug is shallow."

Translated from programmerese, what the writer meant is that when there's a problem (bug) in a program (text), it can be very deep (hard to disentangle from the rest of the code (poem)) or even find for the lone programmer (writer).  However, with enough user/programmer (reader/poet) eyes on the code, one set (or several) will  not only discover the problem but present an elegant and functional solution which also addresses all its deep-rooted (in the rest of the code/poem) ramifications.

Another way to say this is, "I'm smarter than you are, and you're smarter than I am."  That is, my poem may be genius, but your solution to a weakness I didn't even see is genius, too, even if we don't think we're at the same level of skill.

So that's why crit works, even if it seems snide or shallow.

Speaking for myself, tolerating criticism isn't a natural part of my real nature, but maintainig that character on this board might accidentally bend said nature in that direction.  Quite aside from the pragmatic benefits suggested above.  As for helping others... well, if the effect were reliable (which it's not) it would be no more than command-control; since it's not, beneficial effects are a surprise, better than expected - which is one definition of happiness.  And don't forget gratitude:  if you fake that often enough, it gradually becomes sincere Wink .
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
Reply
#12
You're from Texas, so you have every reason to despise R. W. Emerson. But I'm going to quote him, though not really, I just made this up, but most people would probably believe he said this if someone says that he did. But . . . An American refuses to believe anything, any truth, that he didn't come up with himself. . . . The literary tradition in America is that we have no tradition. Like Larry Flynt or Flint or however said, If you're going to treat me like a baby, I'm going to act like a baby. . . . Americans aren't pragmatic anymore. . . . And then there's that oft quoted quote: All bad poetry is sincere. : Keywords, keywords. All my poetry is sincere. And all my critique. And what does any of this have to do with America? . . . Like George Carlin said: You're gonna have to figure that one out for yourself.
Reply
#13
(10-30-2018, 05:48 AM)rowens Wrote:  You're from Texas, so you have every reason to despise R. W. Emerson. But I'm going to quote him, though not really, I just made this up, but most people would probably believe he said this if someone says that he did. But . . . An American refuses to believe anything, any truth, that he didn't come up with himself. . . . The literary tradition in America is that we have no tradition. Like Larry Flynt or Flint or however said, If you're going to treat me like a baby, I'm going to act like a baby. . . . Americans aren't pragmatic anymore. . . . And then there's that oft quoted quote: All bad poetry is sincere. : Keywords, keywords. All my poetry is sincere. And all my critique. And what does any of this have to do with America? . . . Like George Carlin said: You're gonna have to figure that one out for yourself.

Cool Heh.  Almost anything can be about America if you stare at it long enough.  Like that green-black-yellow flag...
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
Reply
#14
Criticism is of least value to the editor. Emotions often run higher when killing one's darlings, such that even the best critique can fail to penetrate the most receptive mind; meanwhile, the composer gets a second chance, the critic gets a soapbox, and the general audience gets a full conversation. Poetry is a form of communication, and communication grows in value the more voices it involves.

Feedback focuses on technicalities, on how some bits of form and substance fail the rest of the poem, and so it is of greatest value to the editor. I consider the two to be distinct, although not mutually exclusive: good critique always involves good feedback if the poem is a work of progress, while feedback stops being feedback and gets fully subsumed into the critique once the poem is considered complete.

Keeping all this in mind means that I offer feedback (and here, as always, I use the term more generally) much less often than I probably could, because the one thing I look for in a poem that I am to critique (again, general use) is that it makes me respond with something interesting. I could love a poem, but if I have very little to say about it then I turn discreet; I could hate a poem, but if its problems are too generic someone else would have already said what I would say.
Reply
#15
(10-30-2018, 05:18 PM)RiverNotch Wrote:  Criticism is of least value to the editor. Emotions often run higher when killing one's darlings, such that even the best critique can fail to penetrate the most receptive mind; meanwhile, the composer gets a second chance, the critic gets a soapbox, and the general audience gets a full conversation. Poetry is a form of communication, and communication grows in value the more voices it involves.

Feedback focuses on technicalities, on how some bits of form and substance fail the rest of the poem, and so it is of greatest value to the editor. I consider the two to be distinct, although not mutually exclusive: good critique always involves good feedback if the poem is a work of progress, while feedback stops being feedback and gets fully subsumed into the critique once the poem is considered complete.

Keeping all this in mind means that I offer feedback (and here, as always, I use the term more generally) much less often than I probably could, because the one thing I look for in a poem that I am to critique (again, general use) is that it makes me respond with something interesting. I could love a poem, but if I have very little to say about it then I turn discreet; I could hate a poem, but if its problems are too generic someone else would have already said what I would say.

Meh, I don't know, even the Mona Lisa has room for improvement. 
I don't there's ever a space for criticism in poetry, but critique is valid, despite its tendency to marginalize creativity of the piece and regardless of the author's receptivity.
For me, the most prominent aspect in any assessment is the incubation period after the first read.
After eating the other person's thoughts, you need let to them digest, otherwise you puke up truisms.
assholery not intended .
Reply




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
Do NOT follow this link or you will be banned from the site!