Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Life as I've known it is over and a new life is about to begin: my sweetie has given me an iPod nano for my birthday. I haven't fetishized an object so fervently since my toy Millenium Falcon circa 1978.

Been thinking two things: one, an author who defends his book always comes out looking like an ass. Two, having done a little such defending, I think I may have used overly harsh language in defense of my baby. Let the record show: Joyelle McSweeney is not tone deaf, nor can I really call her review of my book a misreading without announcing an intention to try and control all possible readings: an intention I hereby disclaim. I was disappointed in her interpretation; I consider her a friend and was surprised she wasn't more sympathetic or willing to give credit to the ways in which the book's uses of form complicate its statements, its swerves into bathos, its voices. But there I go defending again. Joyelle is an exceptionally careful reader of poetry and not tone deaf in the least, as her own writing amply demonstrates. So I regret the characterization. Let a thousand readings bloom, for to be read, to paraphrase Whitman, is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

Happy New Year!

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