*Death to Reviews II*

Are poets necessarily home alone?
Get the whole story right now on

Tympan {click here}
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A Critical Departure; and a Critical Full Disclosure

The most recent edition of
rhubarg is susan {click here}
announced the departure from blogland
by an excellent blogger, Simon DeDeo,
which seems to have triggered
quite a bit of soul-searching
among some of the most active
literary bloggers. The general
consensus appears to be that
more reviewing is needed; even,
according to Jordan Davis,
to the point of creating a
"review of record." I've stated here
and elsewhere why I think this
approach is not the most effective:
I agree poets are capable of
writng very useful and interesting
critical essays about poetics and poetry.
I am quite dubious about the
notion of "reviews" by poets.
Reviews present themselves as a
form of crtiical reception by means of
objective judgements.
Poets are unavoidably biased in
regards to their peers, in fact, very
or even extremely biased. They are also
quite capable of brilliant,
even ingenius modes of
presenting their biases as objective
and inevitable. In my view, a better
way to go would be to work together
on a weblog that offers reviews,
presented as such, by invited non-poet
readers of contemporary and other poetry,
such as scholars, academics, fiction writers
or artists, for example; the blog
might also include essays about
poetics, poetry-or anything else-
by poets presented as such:
appreciations or persuasive critiques by
peers about peers, acknowledged
as such, but differentiated from the
"reviews"- written, hopefully, by
commentators who are not
actively involved and engaged with
a poetry career and a circle of poets.

In any case, ::fait accompli::
will continue to
present our thoughts and
opinions concerning art and
poetry for what they are: ideas
and reflections about writing
offered by an actively
engaged poet and artist, who
harbors no illusions about
enjoying a lifetime of innumerable
valued long term and new
friendships and acquaintanceships
among poets and artists;
these, of course, include
connections with particular
schools of poetry, perhaps,
now, even blogging!

We do not blush or apologize
for our many affections and loyalties
here at: :fait accompli:: , and we will
continue to enjoy working hard
at remaining as open
as possible to as much
writing and art,
new and old, as is possible
both by friends and strangers.

"In this sullen craft or art/ excercised while the moon rages"

is a paraphrase of a line from Dylan Thomas

Jonathan Mayhew, bold blogger of Bemsha Swing {click here} has once again aroused my "anecdotage."

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In My Craft or Sullen Art

In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art
  -  Dylan Thomas
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Gary Sullivan (Elsewhere} {click here}
responds to the poetry book meme,
passes the baton to Nada who passes
it to Alli Warren (who has recently
published a new chapbook)
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Yahoo's blog poets {click here}
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Name Your Mood And I'll Build It For You
by Neon on
As-Is {click here}

Tony Oursler {click here}
who is interviewed in Henry Hills' *Emma's Dilemma*, discussed below,
has a darkly humorous installation
at the Metropolitan Museum
titled *Climaxed* A cartoon
cloud-character, housed in a roomful
of reddish-yellow clouds,
explodes, again and again, in
comic-book rage at the world.
In *Emma's Dilemma*, Oursler
puts an emphasis on dialogue
and interaction as key elements
in his work and what most
interests him in art. His other
installation at the Met now, an
homage to a painting by
Courbet, commissioned by
the Musee D'Orsay in Paris,
is a replica of his studio.