Thursday, March 4, 2021

Lemon Saroyan


I found this lemon in the back of the produce drawer in our refrigerator, and it seemed both repellent and weirdly intriguing.

It has nothing to do with this post, really. I just needed a picture and that was an eye-catcher. Or an eyeye-catcher, you could say. (You'll shortly see why.)

I've mentioned before that I went through a poetry-writing period when I was younger. During this time in the mid-1980s, when I was taking a poetry class at college and working in downtown Tampa, I would often walk to the downtown library on my lunch hour or after work and peruse the poetry shelves.

One of the books I discovered there was Aram Saroyan's eponymous book from 1968. It was printed in a typeface that suggested it came straight from a manual typewriter, and it was full of curious little minimalist poems, including his famous and controversial one-word poem "lighght." (No, that is not a typo.) Most of them stood alone on a stark white page, with a blank page facing, so that each turn produced only a word or a handful of words. Sometimes not even words -- just pieces of words or even a single modified letter. Flashes of language.

"Eyeye" was another. Two eyes, which makes sense -- but united into one image, like the world seen by two eyes. Read it aloud and you sound like a pirate.

I was thoroughly dumbfounded by this poetry. Saroyan, whose father was famous novelist and playwright William Saroyan, wrote what's known as "concrete" poetry, or poetry that is as much a visual work as a readable one. In fact, many of his poems can't be read at all. They're more like an experience.

Here's another example that I remember from that book:


At the time I thought this kind of work was silly, and I remember cynically presuming that Saroyan got published mainly because of his father's connections. But that poem lived in my brain. I never forgot it.

It brought to my mind the "-ly" suffix on adverbs like "slowly" or "chaotically." "Squarely" is an obvious interpretation. Perhaps it's a series of descriptions with a missing core -- "slowly" without the slow, "chaotically" without the chaos. The repetition emphasizes and multiplies the inherent absence. Or "squarely" with the square implied rather than stated -- or maybe it is stated, but differently. I've never read an "official" critical assessment; that's just my interpretation and I suppose someone else might get something else out of it.

Other Saroyan poems repeated the word "crickets" across or down the page, evoking the endless, repetitive sound of the insects. The poem "lighght" is simply that word, standing alone -- an intentional misspelling that makes us pause on the idea or image of light. If the word were spelled correctly it would "pass straight through you," as writer Ian Daly said. The misspelling makes it stick, but not too long -- it also retains a stark, instant quality.

This week I went down an Internet rabbit hole reading about Saroyan and his minimalist poetry, which was republished in a collection 13 years ago. Some of the articles I read are linked in this post. The fact that I was thinking about it is evidence of its surprising durability and effectiveness, I suppose. It took me 35 years to realize it might not be silly after all.

35 comments:

Alphie Soup said...

Eyeye Capt'n.

Alphie

Moving with Mitchell said...

It's fascinating to consider. What makes it poetry as opposed to interesting play with letters? Or, do we remember it because it was more powerful or provocative than we thought or simply because it was odd? At first glance, I thought there was such a thing as a green and yellow lemon and it was called Saroyan. And now moldy lemons will always be Saroyan Lemons in my mind.

Frances said...

I prefer my poetry to actually rhyme and the minimalist Saroyan would mean nothing to me. I am more of the Pam Ayres school of poets !
I did however discover this poem some years ago and I adore it.


“Where are the snowdrops?” said the sun.
“Dead” said the frost, “Buried and lost, every one.”
“A foolish answer,” said the sun
“They did not die, asleep they lie, every one.
And I will awake them, I the sun,
Into the light, all clad in white, every one.”
“It’s rather dark in the earth today”
said one little bulb to its brother.
“But I thought that I felt a sunbeam’s ray.
We must strive and grow ’til we find our way”
and they nestled close to each other.
They struggled and strived by day and by night,
’til two little snowdrops in green and white
rose out of the darkness and into the light;
and softly kissed one another.
By Annie Mattheson born March 1853 died 1924

gz said...

I remember a performance of concrete poetry at the art college I went to.
I wondered then about the lengthy preamble....and equally lengthy explanation afterwards, which was very honest.
The colours of the lemon are beautiful. Decay can be fascinating.

Yorkshire Pudding said...

mighight

Ursula said...

As GZ says, decay is fascinating. And your lemon is a thing of beauty (what did I say the other day about ugly?). The only reason I am NOT asking why on earth you keep lemons out of sight and in the fridge is because some bloggers' wrath is easily ignited. You say something more or less innocent; hurt egos and their toes will claim damages.

U

Debby said...

The ly thing? The first thing that hit me looking at it is Rumi: 'Where ever you go, be sure to go there with your whole heart.' The ly thing speaks to me. It is not about what we do with our lives...it is how we do it that matters.

Ms. Moon said...

I wish I had a better grasp of poetry. In fact, I wish I had a deeper interest in reading it. I am ashamed to admit that I knew (still know) nothing about Saroyan or his poetry. So- you have educated me a bit today and for that I am grateful. I love what Debby said. That was exactly what came to my mind too. Profoundly simple. Simply profound.

Anonymous said...

I had forgotten about Saroyan's poetry. In some ways with all poetry (and other writings) we fill in the blanks with our own words. It looks like Saroyan showed us that in a beautiful minimalist way.

Sharon said...

I found this fascinating. I had not heard of Saroyan before but I can see his work would be very interesting to discuss in a class.

Red said...

I liked William Saroyan's short stories.

Ellen D. said...

A woman on another blog was speaking of Ogden Nash and his poetry. That is pretty much the opposite of this poetry by Saroyan. I am getting a poetry education today!
I am happy to say that I got the 1st dose yesterday - a surprise for me when I went to my Walgreens to pick up my prescriptions (they had an extra dose!)
Random luck!

Allison said...

I am devoid of the poetry reading gene. Yours was a very interesting post, full of stuff that would never occur to me. The decaying lemon is rather attractive.

Margaret said...

That lemon is beautiful in its own way--not that I would eat it or even keep it. But I certainly would take a photo. I love analyzing poetry; I did a lot of it in college. It's interesting what messages we hold on to from literature. We read a book in BC called "Disappearing Earth" and although I said I didn't like it, I couldn't get it out of my mind.

The Bug said...

I love the lemon - as you know I have a thing for desiccated things. Ha! That poem is beyond me - but you are right about its staying power if you're still thinking about it.

I got my first shot today! Apparently I'm in a group of essential workers who are now able to get it. Now if my 61 year old husband could just get his!

e said...

Circle of life and death in that lemon, it would make a good painting...I wasn't familiar with Aram Saroyan or his poetry, so learned something new.

Michael said...

I had never heard of Saroyan before. I learned something new today! And I got my second shot!

Steve Reed said...

Arrrrrrrgh!

Steve Reed said...

Is there a difference between poetry and play with letters? In a way, it's the same thing -- or CAN be, anyway. I wonder how Aram Saroyan would feel about being associated in your mind with a moldy lemon. LOL

Steve Reed said...

That is a nice poem. You tend toward the Victorian sentimentalists, I'd say. :) I don't know Pam Ayres -- need to look her up!

Steve Reed said...

It's hard for me to imagine how some of these poems could ever be performed! And yeah, lengthy explanations seem to miss the point.

Steve Reed said...

Excellent, Mr. Pudding Saroyan!

Steve Reed said...

Ha! My ego is not that easily damaged. We've always kept lemons and limes in the fridge -- maybe because in Florida, where I grew up, produce tends to get soft and wrinkly more quickly when it's sitting out. I never understood keeping a bowl of fruit sitting out. I put almost everything in the fridge.

Steve Reed said...

That's beautiful! I love that you picked up an association with another poet, and one so different in style.

Steve Reed said...

Despite my poetry classes, I am hardly an expert. Someone once said poetry is an art form that lots of people write and almost no one reads, and I think there's some truth to that! I hate to say it but I almost always skip the poetry in The New Yorker.

Steve Reed said...

It's true -- it will mean something unique to each of us based on our own associations and the way our individual brains work. I took a much more analytical approach to "ly" than Debby did (above), for example.

Steve Reed said...

I'm glad it was interesting! I wasn't sure people would appreciate this post much! :)

Steve Reed said...

I have never read any William Saroyan, I'm sorry to say. I really should. I'm sure we have some of his books in our school library.

Steve Reed said...

Yeah, that really does run the spectrum of poetry, from Nash to Saroyan! So glad you got your first dose!

Steve Reed said...

I bet some of it would appeal to you. It's just a matter of finding the type you respond to best. Some of us like abstraction, some like very literal imagery. Some like rhyme and structure, some like freeform.

Steve Reed said...

I agree about the lemon -- I thought it was quite striking. I haven't heard of "Disappearing Earth." It's funny how some books (or poems or paintings) stay with us even though initially they may not seem all that appealing.

Steve Reed said...

I identify with your husband! I'm glad you got yours, though.

Steve Reed said...

It WOULD make a good painting. Too bad I can't paint! LOL

Steve Reed said...

Woo hoo!

ellen abbott said...

never been much interested in poetry. and even less so in this stuff. ly ly ly ly? I would not consider that a poem or even eyeye. they are more like word puzzles.