Well, not me.
But everyone else, presumably.
True or not, poet Sam Sax raises an interesting point in his poem "Everyone Has an Uncle Who Has Slept with Allen Ginsberg" wherein he talks about building a legacy for oneself out of the minor (sexual) intersections of someone else's celebrity.
But what this poem does in part, for me, is that it asks us to speculate at the most and suspend a polite disinterest at the least with regard to the poet's personal life. While it is not on any of us to pass judgement as to his sexual proclivities, there are troubling details about Ginsberg as a person that sometimes interfere with my reading of his works. He was an alleged rapist and pedophile, as well as a member of NAMBLA, which are facts that complicate (for me) divorcing him from his creative output. I guess the question that I am attempting to pose is whether we can or should separate the writer from his works. Is there any place for examining his writings bearing in mind his wrong-doings?
In response to the question you ask at the end of this, I'd like to argue that, yes, there is. Writers throughout time have later been discovered to have been majorly problematic, same for musicians/painters/etc. Ginsberg may have been a questionable person, but his writings still spoke to the time period, showed some of what was going on in his head, and are hence still something worth studying. He's not someone to aspire to be like, but his writings now belong to us– we decide what to see in his art and what purpose it has in this world.
ReplyDeleteMK & Holly -
ReplyDeleteI had never come across this material before - I knew Ginsberg was somewhat of a sexual miscreant, but I didn't know of his affiliation with NAMBLA, etc. That said, and I by no means want to sweepingly put these aspects aside, I think Holly gave a quite cogent response to the question your post points to - whether or not the artist's personal life should be considered context to an artistic work. According to Spivak, an "ethical reading" requires a close, "unimaginative" reading of the work before us, and nothing else. This means abandoning our accumulated cultural capital and personal convictions and absorbing what's before us without any preconceptions - about the piece, and especially about the artist. Of course in literary studies, especially with artists like Kerouac and Ginsberg whose work is largely autobiographical, it can be hard to make clean delineations between an artist and his or her work, especially when many of the Beats, and those in their wake, believe(d) that the greatest poem of all was one's life.
- T
Hey guys,
ReplyDeleteI know I am late to the comment game here, but I spoke to Mikeala a bit about this subject before in person, so I just wanted to add my two cents, especially in light of our most recent and final group discussion. I think everyone here (T, H, M) is bringing up wonderful arguments about just how we might judge who and what we read. At the heart of it, I find myself torn on this subject. I sympathize deeply with the idea that an artist should not be judged commensurately with their work (likely because I am, myself, a flawed and imperfect artist). But I can also understand the possible dangers in that idea. Should we truly treat the work of a fascist or an abuser as if it comes from the same place as someone less inclined to violence or ill-will? I suppose the stronger part of me is the one that favors free speech, and in such, I can't convince myself that shutting out any voices, no matter how vile, will bring us closer to some kind of universal empathy and equality. But I also understand that, on a purely material level, this is also a simple issue of materially supporting someone we may deem as personally detrimental to a progressive ideal. We probably all have experienced this dilemma on some level. When I read the novel "Ender's Game," I assumed whoever wrote such a piece would be a pretty good human being. For me, the whole story revolved around empathizing for the most 'other' of Others - giant, insectile, possibly evil aliens. And yet Orson Card turned out to be a total world-class douche-waffle. But in the end, I think the story spoke to something even bigger than the asshat who wrote it. And when I read Ginsberg, I don't inherently feel the presence within me of a child molester. Maybe it is simply an issue of context. I don't think I could ever feel those feelings, so I don't. But maybe that is the wrong angle again. It truly is a topic worth addressing, though. Great job, M!