Friday, April 18, 2025

Why Poetry by Matthew Zapruder

I love poetry, and am always interested in how and why it can leave us speechless with astonishment. Anna Quindlen once wrote, People who are knowledgeable about poetry sometimes discuss it in that knowing, rather hateful way in which oenophiles talk about wine: robust, delicate, muscular. This has nothing to do with how most of us experience it, the heart coming around the corner and unexpectedly running into the mind.

When I saw Zapruder’s book on Kindle Unlimited, I was eager to see what he had to contribute to the discussion. I was delighted with his opening sally that Poetry isn’t in any danger, and never has been. And I’m quite sure there will be poetry as long as there are people who can speak, and probably even after. [And this delightful jab:] Probably even robots will write it, just as soon as they get souls.

The central question of the book is how poetry creates a heightened sense of awareness (what Zapruder calls “a poetic state of mind.”) It happens through the form of the poem, which guides the mind of a reader. It happens through leaps of association. And it happens as the poem explores and activates and plays with the nature of language itself.

He contends that there is no such thing as poetic language. The words used in poetry are every day words, but their energy comes primarily from the reanimation and reactivation of the language we recognize and know. In poetry, we see how language can be made deliberately strange, how it becomes “difficult” in order to jar us awake. One of the ways that poetry reanimates language is in its use of unexpected associations or metaphors. (Like when Emily Dickinson calls a snake a “whip-lash” or when Richard Crashaw writes that “Graves are beds now for the weary.”)

He also insists that poetry is not a secret code, and that it is not written to be deliberately elusive or obscure. (I would agree up to a point since I find most modern poetry to be purposefully vague. Ironically, the second half of the book is filled with examples of modern poems, which Zapruder painstakingly explains because otherwise they make no sense.)

In general, says, Zapruder, poetry requires no special knowledge, only attention. The meaning of the poem resides on the page, and is available to an attentive reader. Paying attention is essential and this close reading of the text is essential not only for literary enjoyment, but he would add, it’s necessary for survival in this modern world. The more we are colonized by our devices and the “information” and “experiences” that they supposedly deliver, the more we need a true experience of unmonetized attention.

The first half of the book was helpful and insightful; he detours off a few times to decry the evils of climate change, terrorism, inequality, environmental issues, etc. which didn’t seem to have anything to do with the topic. And, as I wrote above, the second half had many examples of difficult poetry that, instead of encouraging people to read it, would scare them off permanently. Still, I enjoyed gaining insights into how poetry makes its impact, and look forward to continuing my journey toward understanding it better.

Blessings,

Thursday, April 3, 2025

Pages from a WII Chaplain's Diary by Clarence E. Walstad

I am a huge fan of WWII memoirs and was delighted to recently discover Pages from a WWII Chaplain’s Diary.   

At 40 years of age, successful Lutheran pastor, Clarence Walstad, enlisted in the army as a chaplain, leaving behind his wife and their three young children. These are the touching letters he writes to Ruth describing his 2 ½ years of army life.

The overriding theme of the letters is his desire for the men in his outfit to come to saving faith in Christ. As his ship nears North Africa, he writes: (4/14/43) The morale of the men is good. Wonderful facilities are provided to keep them occupied. They have access at all times to shelves of books, magazines, parlor games, several pianos, victrolas, etc. But ultimately, morale must depend, not on escape mechanisms, but upon the ‘soul that is fixed on God’ by faith.

One of his early assignments was to work in a hospital unit in Morocco connected to a German and Italian POW camp. In July of 1943, he tells a poignant story of playing his autoharp in his office and having the men in the hospital tents begin to sing along with him. Many of these POWs understand a little English, he wrote. All could follow the music. Because many of the Lutheran hymns he knew had been translated from the German, some prisoners joined in the singing in their own language. We harmonized on “Fairest Lord Jesus”, “Oh, Sacred Head now Wounded”, “When I Survey”, and then ended up by singing “Silent Night” in five languages. Several of them broke down as the familiar strains floated out on the night air. Afterward I spoke to them a little to say that though we are enemies there are some things we all have in common: home, mother, God and the love of Jesus, who came to earth that Christmas Eve. Poor lads, they too believe in the cause for which they have been suffering in this malaria infested hole, for almost two years.

Later he is attached to army units in France and Germany where the men are fighting and he has little opportunity for church services. I was complaining to my boys today that there just isn’t an awful lot a chaplain can do here these days as it is suicide to gather men in groups. But one of the fellows spoke up and said, “Chaplain, just seeing you around when the shells are flying, is a help.” One of the soldiers attached to that unit spoke of it as “an awesome sight to see that big man (6’4”) crawling from foxhole to foxhole with a message of comfort and encouragement from the Lord to frightened and anxious soldiers during the heat of battle.”

Walstad’s devotion to his calling, his unstinting acts of service, and his cheerful acceptance of hardships made for heartwarming letters that bolstered my faith.  Without a doubt, this will be one of my favorite books of the year.

Blessings,