In the last reading of the Russell House’s fall semester lecture series, Aaron Kunin shared poems from his new book, “Folding Ruling Star.” A former Wesleyan professor, Kunin drew former students and colleagues as well as regular poetry enthusiasts who counted on the Russell House’s consistent delivery of entertainment and talent.
Kunin, now Assistant Professor of English at Pomona in California, turned to Milton’s “Paradise Lost” for inspiration. Tied together with the common thread of shame and guilt, the poems in “Folding Ruling Star” explore the subjects physically (in faces and clothes) and as psychological conditions. Mentioning psychologist Silvan Tomkins, known for his work in shame-based psychological disorders, Kunin pointed to the similarity between the “typical reading posture” (eyes facing down, back hunched slightly) and a shameful stance that doesn’t allow for eye contact or physical openness.
“These poems are conceived as a value-neutral ‘Paradise Lost,” Kunin said. “In other words, some one who is not God tells you to avoid a certain tree and you disobey the instruction: the result is shame.”
“False Nativity” exemplified the subtle humor of Kunin’s poetry, as did his delivery. A poet’s poet, he seemed not entirely comfortable reading out loud. Compensated by perfect enunciation, his nervous yet endearing presentation matched the self-consciousness of his poems: “But what I saw then/terrified me (I/ removed my glasses/ I put them on the/desk) and the desk was terrified/ that I might sit on my glasses and what/ my bottom would see.”“His delivery was robotic but his ideas about shame were really interesting,” said Chaz Ganster’08.
Kunin’s extra-enunciated manner of recitation complemented the poetry of “Folding Ruling Star.” Spoken by the poet, the poems seemed more metrically unique than they did on paper. Kunin’s distinctive style was a performance in and of itself.
Kunin explained his personal ideas on use of meter as a poetic device.
“In classical Greek and Latin poetry, the idea [of meter] is that you are measuring time,” Kunin said. “It’s a beautiful and profound idea, that you can remove objects from time or shield them from time.”
Kunin also read a series of poems entitled “The Sore Throat.” The poems were from an interpretation of playwright Maurice Maeterlinck’s “Pelleas et Melisand,” using a limited selection of 200 words.
“It’s like the poems narrate a performance of ”Pelleas et Melisand“ for an audience that has a vocabulary of 200 words,” Kunin said.
As a result of the limit in terminology, the subject matter is focused on specifics such as soreness, physicality, and the limitations of body parts like eyes and throats. The speakers of various poems interact in a rapid-fire dialogue, exchanging insults and commentary on life, God, and money. The reflections of one speaker examine what it must be like to be a “moron,” without a mind or body and, of course, without a throat. The speakers dissect the idea of being without these things to the umpteenth degree, and even with the limited vocabulary Kunin imposed on himself the poems flow unhindered by obvious repetition.
The process by which Kunin developed the language for his translation of Materlinchk’s play was rooted in his former obsessive tendency to transcribe speech and his own thoughts through a sign language system developed by friends. Besides transcribing what he or others were saying, his hands began to fixate on certain phrases on their own. The action of transcribing appears to the naked eye as though the hands are simply playing a phantom piano or wasting nervous energy. Using these certain phrases, Kunin developed a collection of vocabulary that transformed the nervous habit into a muse. Moreover, Kunin’s ability to adapt his obsession into the base of a poetic translation and interpretation of theater points to his particular talents as a creative force in the world of poetry.
Leave a Reply