An Army of Lovers is an army of many things, mainly metaphors and long sentences. But it also seems to be actings as a novel-length analysis of what poetry is, why the hell we make it, and what makes poetry good. Are you trying to be political, beautiful, or both? Can you fit every kind of sound in there are have it be music, or will it create a cacophonous mess? Is poetry weighed down by capitalism, or sex? And of course, none of these questions have one answer. But, poetry grows on poets, like a nipple-sized tick bite on your side, or blisters on your forehead. It leaks and stings until it is turned into ink on paper.
What immediately caught my attention in this novel was the descriptions of Koki and Demented Panda's notebook carrying habits. Demented Panda had a tiny notebook that could fit into a shirt pocket and was so small that you could hardly write in it if you wanted to. Koki carried a large notebook and a book with her in a backpack at all times. Immediately, I saw my own poetic habits in Koki. As much as I fancy myself a novelist, the black book I keep in my backpack at all times is littered with shitty lines of poetry from high school until the present. Not very political, not very pretty, but poetry nonetheless.
Koki and Demented Panda both spend a lot of time lamenting the fact that they don't get anything done together, despite setting out everyday to write poetry. This is not uncommon. Most writers spend more time not writing or thinking about writing than they do actually doing it. While the tininess of one notebook might hold you back, so might the pressure of a large blank page. In the end, the page size doesn't matter, the content doesn't matter, none of it matters. What matters is that you are creating the art you want to create.
Both the characters in this book go through some strange personal journeys– homeopathically, mentally, and poetically. And at the end, the only thing that really mattered was being together. Not everyone can write a fantastic poem, but anyone can experience things worth writing about. I wonder, are the authors of this book trying to tell us something about the human condition, about writing, or something else entirely? Are we supposed to go off and write poems now, or lay in the grass next to a friend and be alright with not getting anything done?
I think that by creating characters who, like you, carry around notebooks and jot down what they think is mediocre writing, the authors of this book generate appeal and accessibility of poetry to younger generations. They may be trying to convey the idea that poetry exists, but people just have to see it as such, and turn what we have into something more tangible for modern literature.
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