Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 7]

Vivek Narayanan:

Dear Peter et al.,

A few things strike me in thinking about this discussion. The first is, what is the optimal audience for a poetry event, how many people would make us happy and, can we assume that more people is necessarily better? I'm not trying to be elitist; rather I am saying that this need for a mass audience that we have is a particularly modern and contemporary anxiety.

Poetry has always tended to have small audiences. Bob Holman, who was recently in town, was telling us about that about that now legendary reading where Allen Ginsberg first premiered Howl, and the fact that there were maybe twenty or thirty people in the room. Jack Spicer, an American poet who is less known because he shunned official publication and the "poetry career" path in general (he said, rather harshly, that being published in anthologies made him feel like a pimp) says, in an interview that very often there might be only two or three people who really read your work closely, understand and engage with it. Mandelstam had a small but highly devoted band of followers determined to keep his poetry alive. One thinks about how many people Wordsworth or Shelley or Keats had in their audience (I'm not sure if Keats gave readings) or indeed, one thinks about how many people in Ghalib's time didn't just dismiss him as "difficult" or "experimental" or an obscurantist and the only answer one has is: enough people were there to make it memorable.

The fact that other mediums-- fiction and that upstart film-- can now routinely have mass audiences makes poetry aspire to the same. However, because poetry has always been about community to an extent that other mediums are not, this has also meant an almost absurd increase in the number of poets, leading to the situation that Silliman has been talking about for a while now, where there are thousands of competent poets in the US. Priya speaks of the "C" list^[1] of incompetent poetasters not coming to readings. Yes, there are many of those in the Indian scene, some have even climb to positions of influence over the years, but we must also now get to asking the question, is "competency" enough, and what will happen when we also start having hundreds and then thousands of poets, all at least a minimum level of competency? That is quite a deadening situation in its own way. Where will we go from there?

I propose we take seriously the shift from "audience" to "community" and think about what it means. This does NOT mean saying that everything is fine and anything goes, for, alas, even if we agree to set all poets as equal, the fact remains that some poems will be better, even vastly better, than others. Some poems will be just good enough and that by itself is not really good enough! What I am saying rather is 1) we ask ourselves why we don't engage more closely and honestly and critically with each other's work and 2) why we don't take care to document events.

1) close engagement: Priya notes how Adil's commentary on Arvind made her day (I wish I was there, I wish I could watch it on Youtube). And yet, how often does this really happen? I've always had the sense that the Bombay Eng. poetry scene is a very social but ultimately fails because it generates no internal critique-- this was less so at different points, notably the early poetry soc. days of the 90s and, perhaps even more so, what I have heard about the Clearing House days of the late sixties and early seventies. What so often happens, however, is that people line up to read one after the other, then there's a general round of back-patting, then everyone goes off to gossip and carefully avoids the actual poetry. In Delhi we have been tackling this by deflecting the issue onto "performance", which I think is an interesting strategy, but eventually it will only take us so far. The fact that we don't get enough serious engagement (and this should include loving but vigorous and *informed* critique and argument, fights and discussions and tips about the poetry we are reading, assuming that all of us are reading a lot, issues where a lot is at stake, and not just weak little suggestions for each other's linebreaks) means that we turn our hopes outward, in a wish for love and affirmation from an imaginary audience that never shows up. Rather, why not turn it around: if we engage with enough intensity and vigour and critique among the people who do show up (even if it's just the readers themselves who show up) then rumours of that true intensity will spread, and others will want to be part of it. And if we really bring enough intensity (I think Sampurna's points are relevant here) to the event, regardless of how many people are there, then I believe the question of audience will become irrelevant.

I have no magic trick in mind for how we will be able to be completely honest about each other's work, and I'm reminded of that episode of Friends where Phoebe (disastrously) decides to "tell the truth" in her songs. But this, for me, is what has to happen *before* the question of a lay audience even comes into the picture.

2) documentation: Priya notes how Adil's commentary on Arvind made her day (I wish I was there, I wish I could watch it on Youtube). Well, why can't I? I sit and watch the Berkeley poetry reading series a couple of days after the event. I would even go check out Peter Griffin sitting down and reading to a few people in Bombay. I hang around Penn Sound, downloading new recordings. I watch movies of some Canadian or British poet reading to an audience of 12 in the 1970s, realising that even then they had more sense than us to make a proper recording of the event. I realise that in the art world every damn performance is documented, and it is not so relevant that only four people showed up for the actual event. And yet, at my PEN reading, where only six people showed up, I tried and failed to make a recording using my pocket recorder that was drowned out by the sound of the fan. A good clear recording, ready for youtube or radio podcast or the archive does need a little prior thought and arrangement by the organisers, perhaps also a little investment, but at the end of the day this is not very much, since someone or the other will own a video camera and a decent microphone. And hey presto! Someone else is watching it and getting inspired fifty years later. And yes, I think this should be the duty of the organisers. The answer lies, obviously, not in seeing the web and the live event as competing mediums but in continuing to think about how they might work in tandem.

Vivek

p.s. -- The Jack Spicer talk / reading that I quote from can be found here (scroll down to the talk at the beginning of Jack Spicer speaks and reads from Language (full work)).

[1] Note from Peter to Vivek:

..a clarification. When Priya speaks of the "C" group, she is referring to Caferati. (Whether she also intended it to be a comment on a "C" list as opposed to an "A" or "B" list is something you'll have to ask her.

Vivek's reply:

Ah! Didn't realise that. Well perhaps you can post my comment with a little annotation, as above, about my misreading.

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Vivek has a piece that is "partly a reworking" of this comment in Open magazine's July 11th issue.

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 6]

Annie Zaidi:

Hi

Most of my thoughts on the subject have been put down. Before I said anything more on the subject, I'd wanted to hear others' views too, but none seem to be forthcoming quickly. So will just respond to some of the things said so far.

"Each one of us, individually, must give not merely as good as we receive, but better. This commitment also comes into play. Irrespective of those who stand alongside."

Perhaps, we should give more than we get. I don't know if that idea will appeal to many, but it would be nice if writers at least start confronting themselves about what it is they want. And then agree to do what it takes to make it happen. If we want attendance and ears, we should agree to lend ears.

"Perhaps a later start time. And I would definitely say not a weekday. That said, this won't guarantee larger audiences, but it certainly makes it easier to attend. I don't work fullt-time now, but, thinking back, I would have find it very doable to get to a short event at around 7 p.m. or a little later."

I'd say even 7pm is a bit early. For Bombay, especially. I can think back to my schedules in the city and 7 would have been very difficult. (That was one reason I never seemed to have a cultural life there.) You could start at 7.30pm and end at 8.30 pm, which is not at all late by city standards. Don't know about locations, because there are probably all sorts of concerns there, and you've got to pick something that's cheap and quiet. It would help if it is at a cultural hub. Prithvi is an excellent space, that way. So is the NCPA area.

"Definitely more audience building. More awareness generation. More education. (I remember someone saying at a poetry event that the way our education system brings poetry to us is bad. But then, if we agree, what are we doing to help people rise beyond that?"

Suggestion: Those of us who know people in schools or colleges - can we initiate one class a month 'living poets' kind of series? Can PEN do it? Colleges are better. Each college has hundreds of English Lit students. (My college had 170-odd in my batch alone). If the principals or HoDs can be spoken to. They just need to schedule some time, a mic, and would be nice if they could pay the poet a teeny bit, taxi fare at least. I do know things are changing a wee bit. Spoke to a college teacher yesterday and she said that Manju Kapur had come to speak at the college. No reason why poets can't reach out and build connections too.

"How about, for a start, including notes on why you selected the poems that are on the site? Why not have the poets write about the genesis of the works featured?"

We can, though I am not convinced that that would help. We're talking here about building audience, and building a sense of community. And I personally don't remember being particularly interested in the genesis of a poem, unless the facts are integral to understanding it.

"Attention spans are dropping, and there is so much more competition for those diminishing slices of attention. Films, news, opinions, everything's getting shorter, more concise, in an attempt to fit in. (And, y'know, there is more opportunity there. Good poets manage to fit things into beautifully carved nutshells.)"

If that's a suggestion that poetry needs to be shorter, or that it needs to be tailored to the tastes of people, I'd beg to differ. Several times on the Caferati board, I have encouraged poets to expand their piece since it begins to say something interesting and stops abruptly.
Attention spans are something we need to worry about only if the craft isn't that great. Or if the way we present our craft isn't that great. The fact that news is getting shorter just makes it more unreadable/unwatchable. And Indians continue to watch 3-hour long films. In which nothing happens. And soaps. In which nothing happens again.

I'm just nudging this discussion into a slightly different track, but since both Sampurna and Peter have brought up the fact that our audience has a dozen other alternatives to entertainment and culture, we need to change track somewhat, I think.

I follow popular media with great (detached) interest. Many of the popular songs, for instance, do have something different about them - their sound, their words, their context. Something 'hat ke'. It is that which captures attention. (And I digress a little here, but does anyone remember this Hindi poet called Maya Govind? She wrote the song 'gutar gutar' which became a national (out)rage, about a decade ago. I mention her now because she was a poet, not a full-time Bollywood lyricist, and she wrote an overtly suggestive song about pigeons... since we are on the subject of capturing attention.) Mere beauty rarely captures the attention of wide swathes of people, or the imagination of a nation. I find a lot of modern poetry is predictable and I like being surprised, whether it is in theme or metaphor.

"The wisdom of crowds does work, and it the mob is powerful and fickle. Fifteen minutes, fifteen seconds even, of fame? That's not the future; it's already happening."

Democracy in poetry is welcome, and creation should not be the preserve of a few. Which is why open mics are catching on so well. It is great if everybody is indeed participating in poetry and giving back to it. That's not the problem. The opposite is.

On mobs... But the mob watches Ekta Kapoor's soaps! (And is reasonably loyal, actually, if you'd follow soap TRPs, you'd know). It has been centuries since poetry has been a mob's delight. Not unless you include songs. Is the market of songs open to poets? I don't know. Have heard a few rock bands in Bombay who do sing in English. The lyrics are awfully derivative... maybe we should explore that audience.

"Poets need to compete for attention the same as anyone else. They need to compete with films, books, news, reality TV, the latest web phenom."

Sure. And poets are doing so, using these very tools. People are making poetry films. HBO runs a performance poetry series (not in India, unfortunately). SAB TV had a program on Hindi poetry, especially funny poetry. And we are all using the web. We need to use more of it. If I can access the right computer and net connection, I do go poem-hunting on the web. I like watching videos too, and I go looking for poetry videos. Can't find any Indian ones.

"Why is it that a poetry-loving community--specifically, English poetry, because there are far larger turnouts for poetry events in other Indian languages--is difficult to find in the real world in this country?"

That's easy. A tiny percentage of our country speaks English. Most of them speak it or read it only to further their professional interests. If they did have poetic leanings, they're likely to read poems in any of many other languages. We ARE a very, very tiny community here, proportion-wise. It is no point trying to compete with Hindi or Urdu or Marathi audiences.

"Why are the better-known poets not able to grow audiences? Why aren't they embracing the technology that's available? Things like podcasts, posting poetry online, writing about poetry, about the appreciation and understanding of poetry, for instance."

It would help a lot if the better-known poets began to do cool stuff with technology. However putting poetry up on the web is a concern for many. Copyright issues. But one way out is to put up stuff on your own websites which doesn't allow the 'copy-paste' function. That alone would be a great step forward. (Would help if techno-savvy poet-people advise techno-unsavvy ones like myself on this)

There's also that can be done by just reaching out to poets in other languages and that way, build little networks of communities with some overlap.

"We, as people who believe that the work of certain poets is special, should do more to publicise it, sell it, make it easy to relate to, make sure the people that it speaks to hear about it, and convince people to attend, to read them."

True. And I can think of ways. It will take time and a little money to begin, but of course, there are ways. Which we will discuss elsewhere, maybe. This is getting too long for the moment.

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 5]

Sampurna Chattarji:

Dear all,

I think Peter and Annie have covered most of the points that impinge on the presence/absence of audiences for poetry events in our respective cities, with practical, sound and sensitive suggestions on how to address some of them. I have just one thing to add, and I’d like to do that in my capacity as a poet and participant rather than as an organiser of such events.

I think the key question for me is – how does one define a ‘successful event’? I have had, in the past two-three years, the pleasure of reading my work at a variety of forums from the posh art gallery (with red wine!) to the noisy premises of a Prithvi café (with no mike!). The dynamics of every event has varied and so has my satisfaction as a poet and a performer (in some sense, even a reading becomes a performance). I find that the number of people in the audience has had a varying influence on the satisfaction I derive from an event. Some of the best events for me were those that were attended by not more than 12 to 15 people, and that allowed the kind of intimacy and intense engagement and interaction that a larger, more-well attended event could not. I have been equally thrilled and dismayed by how many or how few people turned up to listen to me, but always in the process of reading, and engaging with those who did come, I have felt a sense of pleasure and a sense of gratitude. An old-fashioned word, yes, but I think in a world where there is so much else that one could do – watch a movie, go for a play, a concert, stay in and read Proust, go out on the town with old friends, eat sushi, learn salsa – assuming of course, that one has the leisure to do all of this and is not bound by some hideous corporate deadline as most of my friends are, in such a world of teeming options, in cities that are rich enough to offer us all these options – I do feel grateful when someone opts for poetry. And it is not only poetry events that are (sometimes) sparsely attended, and neither is this a problem specific to India. The American playwright Alan Brody who was here in July (he teaches and lives in Boston) said readings are the hardest things to organise as one can never be sure how many people will finally come. (To slip back into organiser mode for a second, I also know how deeply disappointing it is when after doing everything possible to invite/entice a sizeable audience, one fails, and it is the same five or six or seven indefatigable amazingly supportive old regulars who come.)

Which brings me back to the question – how does one define a ‘successful event’? For me, as a poet, the answer is increasingly being defined in terms of the richness of response, the intensity of listening, a quality both unquantifiable and deeply enriching. Numbers, in this situation, are becoming an aside, a functional detail in an experience nuanced with something I can only think of as personal pleasure.

I’m not sure how this addresses some of the other conversations, but I do hope, in some way, it does.
With love,
Sampurna.

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 4]

Peter Griffin:

Dear Priya

It was no hardship for me; it was a privilege to be asked to share the stage with so many talented folks, even more so for me since I wasn't one of the poets in the anthology. But yes, I was expecting more folks from the Caferati group, and was disappointed that only one of the folks who said they might come eventually did make it.

I thought there would be more folks from PEN's list present too. But the low numbers were not exactly unexpected. I haven't been to many PEN events, but at the ones I have attended, I was surprised to see so few folks. At the first PEN event I went to, at Ranjit's invitation, there were five readers, including myself, and five - or was it six? - listeners.

Part of this is, I think, to do with the combination of timing and location, something I have discussed with Ranjit. Events that start at 6.15 in the evening, mid-week, in South Bombay and that last, usually, under an hour ; that's very unrealistic and just does not take into consideration the realities of Bombay. Working folks are usually in their office until 6 p.m. Many work later as a matter of course. The city's business district is no longer Nairman Point and Fort. Increasingly larger sections of people work in the former mills district around Dadar, Parel, and Prabhadevi, in Bandra and the Bandra-Kurla complex and Ghatkopar and Andheri and suburbs further North and East, even in places like New Bombay and Malad. Getting to a reading by 6.15 would mean having to take off from work early, not always easy to do, and definitely not an option on a regular basis.

(Digression: With Caferati, one of my learnings was that once a month, on a Saturday or a Sunday afternoon or evening, is a fairly achievable goal. Not, perhaps, wholly relevant, since the scenarios are not the same, but it does take into consideration that folks have full, busy lives and expecting them to devote larger, more frequent chunks of time would be difficult. Also, Caferati is also an online organisation, and the read-meets are not, therefore, the sole gatherings of the group.)

Solutions?

Perhaps a later start time. And I would definitely say not a weekday. That said, this won't guarantee larger audiences, but it certainly makes it easier to attend. I don't work fullt-time now, but, thinking back, I would have find it very doable to get to a short event at around 7 p.m. or a little later.

Definitely more audience building. More awareness generation. More education. (I remember someone saying at a poetry event that the way our education system brings poetry to us is bad. But then, if we agree, what are we doing to help people rise beyond that?

PEN is working on it, especially with the new Poetry@PEN series. Open Space has made a wealth of work available on the Talking Poetry pages. (Why not more discussion? How about, for a start, including notes on why you selected the poems that are on the site? Why not have the poets write about the genesis of the works featured?) Caferati is trying to bring more writers into the fray. We need more efforts, and we need to work harder ourselves. Be the change, as the catchphrase goes.


Your specific questions

Is the online community of poets/ poetry lovers 'self-sufficient' in the sense that such readings/launches are no longer required by blog tribalism?

I'm going to have to be long-winded.

The online community of poets and poetry lovers is growing.

Part of this is because the nature of the online space permits participation and interaction that overcomes barriers of distance and time. Add to this the fact that the community is not exactly thick on the ground, and such folks as there are are scattered across the world, larger concentrations in arts-friendly cities and the like, but more usually, people are not aware of how to get in touch with, join, participate in real-life groups, or there are none in their vicinity. When such folks find an online community, this can be huge. I know this was the case for me, and others have told me much the same.

Does this mean that these communities are self-sufficient? If so, is that a good or a bad thing?

I think that yes, they can be self-sufficient. For many, it is enough to just write and have maybe a few dozen people read. It is enough for them to have an audience, period. Here, they're getting one that is potentially international; at any rate, more than the number they would physically be able to show their work to otherwise, something that was impossible when getting your poems published in a magazine or a book was the only way to rise beyond constraints of geography or time.

"Publishing" means something very different these days and that's the reality. Many don't aim to be published in the conventional sense, way too many don't work on their craft, or read enough or analyse enough or learn enough. Is that the fault of the medium? Perhaps. I don't think so, but perhaps. But then, perhaps, because the technology makes it easy, more people will write, will show their work around. I like that. And I think it's worth it. Perhaps, out of this much wider community, a few poets who may never have been heard if not for the technology will now rise to greater visibility. I like that too. And it's definitely worth it.

We should also consider these things.
- It is a fast-moving world, and information overload is very real.
- Attention spans are dropping, and there is so much more competition for those diminishing slices of attention. Films, news, opinions, everything's getting shorter, more concise, in an attempt to fit in. (And, y'know, there is more opportunity there. Good poets manage to fit things into beautifully carved nutshells.)
- Technology has helped democratise many things. Experts, mediators, the media, they become irrelevant for some people. The wisdom of crowds does work, and it the mob is powerful and fickle. Fifteen minutes, fifteen seconds even, of fame? That's not the future; it's already happening.
- Poets need to compete for attention the same as anyone else. They need to compete with films, books, news, reality TV, the latest web phenom.

And also some things to think about.
Why is it that a poetry-loving community--specifically, English poetry, because there are far larger turnouts for poetry events in other Indian languages--is difficult to find in the real world in this country? Why are the better-known poets not able to grow audiences? Why aren't they embracing the technology that's available? Things like podcasts, posting poetry online, writing about poetry, about the appreciation and understanding of poetry, for instance. If the media won't carry such writing, why not put it out there anyway, for the good of the craft, the calling?

I can understand none of the C group attending if they trash the work of all the poets reading. This is perfectly acceptable. But do they know the work of these poets well enough to trash it all? Or are the reasons darker and smaller? I'm speaking both of hiding in the paltry 'I-me-myself" syndrome of closure and safety by not attending, and the fear of nails being worn down by slog that's on display on such an occasion. I'm also speaking of perhaps not loving, passionately, intensely enough , the art that makes one be-- which is necessary to commit to in order to improve and seek. These are deep and troubling questions.

Possibility one: people did not attend because they didn't like the work of the people reading. Let us also assume that they do know the work well enough to reach that conclusions, and that, you accept, is good enough reason. Fair enough.

Possibility two, they do not know the work well, but do not think highly of the work they have come across, and therefore do not attend. I think that this perfectly acceptable too. If I don't like what I have seen or heard once or twice, why would I want to delve deeper? It's up to the poet to interest me, grab me, make me want to come back, or read more.

Possibility three, they have not heard of the work of these poets at all and therefore do not attend. Nothing wrong with that either. We, as people who believe that the work of certain poets is special, should do more to publicise it, sell it, make it easy to relate to, make sure the people that it speaks to hear about it, and convince people to attend, to read them.

Possibility Four, they have heard of and like the work of the poets featured but still do not attend. There could be a variety of reasons for this, like the day of the week and the time and the location and not having heard about it in time, or not having been told about it in a convincing way. It could mean that some people think poetry is best read off a page with the voice of one's mind rather than heard in voice of the poet (and let us also note that not all poets read well). It does not necessarily follow that the reasons are "darker and smaller." It does not necessarily follow that anyone is hiding, or scared of seeing slog on display or not loving the art well enough. Those are unkind assumptions. Because it is possible to work hard at poetry, care passionately about it, without attending a single reading. If it is possible to love Shakespeare who's been dead for centuries, why can't one experience, love, study a contemporary without ever seeing that contemporary read her/his own work?

I ask also because through discussions that occurred later I was enlightened to the fact that most of the recent readings in Bombay ( except those announced as events with, possibly, cocktails through in) are very poorly attended.

No one invites me to the cocktails, alas. So I can't comment.

If it is imperative that in order to attend, the platform must extend to permit one to read from one's work, no matter how recent a 'poet' one is,

Why do you assume this? Unfair, i think.

..then we must rethink the very idea of launches and readings. We must, indeed, rethink the very idea of listening and sharing and growing. We must, by extension, dismiss words like rigour, experiment, form and love from our vocabulary and substitute these perhaps with words like laziness and anything goes or ... We should stop believing that poetry is a sacred and necessary impulse that enables one to live.

Yes, we must re-examine the idea of launches and readings. We must make them more attractive to people. We must remember that we're competing for people's attention and that they have many alternatives to choose from. Even if we were to restrict ourselves to what else is available in poetry, if one had the choice between looking at a few videos which feature Billy Collins reading his work while the visual interprets those words with some great animation, or checking out some great spoken word performers on YouTube, would I come listen to Peter Griffin sit in a chair and read a poem? Rather than dismiss rigour, experiment, form and love, we should, in this re-examination, work harder, experiment more, love it more.

~p

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 3]

Priya Sarukkai Chabria:

Hi Annie, Hi Peter,
Thank you for the eloquent and serious responses to issues I raised in an earlier mail. I feel heartened, especially as both of you lead a major blog site on poetry. I also consider the both of you hard working poets. (Yes, Annie, impassioned is a word often employed about my work and here's another response.)

I refrained from using the word 'community' as this I found lacking. But by all means, let's deploy it now if there is a crack of hope.

I validate the suggestions you made. Peter: yes, invite the poets you mentioned to dialogue. Also, and equally important, the three questions you, Annie, plan to initiate on the C blog. These are pertinent points to engage commitment.

I suggest: use the mails or extracts that have passed between us to contextualize the issues --thought I'm not familiar with your format. Because we are speaking of vast and deep concerns.

To further the debate:
True, a sense of community is necessary and significant to help us be what we are. It is imperative to stand by each other in our frail and encompassing endeavour. But beyond this there is the sense of self and gratitude to the art that makes us be. Each one of us, individually, must give not merely as good as we receive, but better. This commitment also comes into play. Irrespective of those who stand alongside.

My new argument may seem to convulse the idea of community that I found lacking and longed for, and to which you have responded thoughtfully. But this is a spiral on it. This aspect is the moola, the root and seed: beyond all else, unshakably, begin with self.

Yes, Annie, this is implied in the questions you wish to raise; also in the word 'reciprocate'.. But let's forefront this aspect of faith too, what say?

Priya

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 2]

Annie Zaidi:

Hi Priya

I had been thinking hard about the things you said in your mail to Peter and while I saw it as the impassioned and immediate response it was, I did think that there is much to think about. Here is what I wrote back to Peter (slightly edited):

"I do agree with most of what she says in terms of attendance and poetry events and community building. See, I'm a professional journalist and a working poet (though unlike a certain [name deleted], I don't go about introducing myself as a 'working' poet, because it is understood that I am working on being one, if I am one.) And there are at least three times as many book launches and readings here in Delhi than there in Mumbai, I think - though this may not be true of poetry specifically, since Mumbai has more better-known poets writing in English. I don't make it to all but I do try and make it to at least the poetry events, especially if organised by someone I know or if a contemporary is participating.

This is what 'community' is about. A community stands up for you, supports you. You often trade within a community. Many of us have gone to some trouble to seek such a community of writers, and it is for this reason - because it lends us purpose and makes us feel that what we're doing is important. Perhaps our community is small, but to these 30 or 50 people, it matters that a new book of poems is out, or that a new poet-performer is in town. Otherwise, why have launches? Why perform? Why read? We might as well sit at home and read to the walls.

If I do not attend other people's events, why should anyone come to mine?

...

Even a genius will be die undiscovered and unsung, if he is not willing to get out there and be part of the community. Even Ghalib attended mushairas.

...

But this also seems to be increasingly true of writers and launches here. I see the most thickly-attended ones are the ones with free cocktails. Which is understandable sometimes - a high-profile event like the Vikram Chandra launch at the Taj. Or even a blah event at the British Council. You don't like the work that much, but there will be drinks and bonding with other writers, later.

But at Sampurna and Sridala's reading at the Sahitya Akademy here, there was only chai and since I got there later, I did not get even a cup of chai, and it did not matter. The toilets - like in all government offices - smell, but it did not matter. There were about forty people or fifty, some were friends and supporters, and some young emerging Delhi poets, and it felt good to see them there. We had no role to play barring that of listeners and buyers, and we played it. The evening was good.

Now, we cannot do this every day but we can do this every other week or even every weekend. As poets, as writers, as aspirants, this is part of the package.

And I think we have to start communicating this to the Caferati crowd. If you want to be a poet and want appreciation and want people to buy real books, learn to reciprocate. Learn that there will be jobs and family and distances but if you want to be part of the poetic community, in the real world, then get out and negotiate the rules of the real world.

....

Maybe we need to initiate a discussion about this on Caf. If you like, I will do it.

And I would like to begin with just these three questions - do you want your own book out some day? how many poetry/literary events have you shown up for? how many poetry books have you bought last year?

What say?

annie

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 1]

This post, and the next few as well, are the texts of an email debate initiated by Priya Sarukkai Chabria.

Background: At the Bombay launch of 50 Poets 50 Poems, attendance was low; Priya says there were more press than audience members there, I counted a dozen people, aside from the eight people on stage, the young man who was helping sell the books, and the chai lad.

The principals in this discussion have agreed to put this up on the Caferati blog and invite a larger discussion. We're hoping that you folks could bring in your take on the topic; your opinions, your perspectives from different events in different cities. Feel free to comment, or to mail any or all of us.

~peter

Priya Sarukkai Chabria:

Dear Peter,
Thank you for participating in the PEN 50Poets50Poems launch. All the other Bombay poets too who were in the anthology who weren't abroad made it a point to participate. This was excellent. I appreciate your show of solidarity especially as you had to traverse great distances to be present. You had also said that some from the Caferati group would be present. However, none showed.You possibly were perturbed by this.

Why a single poet/ poetry aficionado/ wannabe didn't showed is a matter to ponder on because such an assembly of poets is exceptional.( Indeed, we had more press that poets!) But first I ask myself: do I attend enough of such literary events? My answer is yes. Also a launch of a poetry anthology in the hallowed PEN "prescient" is an event to celebrate. For any writer worth the name, PEN is significant.. The evening, to me, was a matter of keeping faith with one's art, with the art of poetry, the spaces that support it and with the reality of living.

As you are a leading moderator of the active and large Caferati group I direct the following enquiries to you:
Is the online community of poets/ poetry lovers 'self-sufficient' in the sense that such readings/launches are no longer required by blog tribalism? I do not use the word 'tribalism' in a disparaging manner, rather to imply close affinities that are sustaining though small. Also, as this group,comprising of young poets --and those who want to make the grade-- is active in its writing and critiquing of poetry, one would have thought that such an experience would be enriching to them. Since the evening kicked off with Adil J reading his poem and Arvind's, I shall employ just this case to make my point. Beside contextualizing his own poem, Adil's deep inquiry into Arvind's references and imagination, I found made my day. I'd have thought younger poets too could have gain from this. Also from the manner in which poems are read aloud/declaimed/ articulated. A range of this, too, occurred.
I can understand none of the C group attending if they trash the work of all the poets reading. This is perfectly acceptable. But do they know the work of these poets well enough to trash it all? Or are the reasons darker and smaller? I'm speaking both of hiding in the paltry 'I-me-myself" syndrome of closure and safety by not attending, and the fear of nails being worn down by slog that's on display on such an occasion. I'm also speaking of perhaps not loving, passionately, intensely enough , the art that makes one be-- which is necessary to commit to in order to improve and seek. These are deep and troubling questions.

I ask also because through discussions that occurred later I was enlightened to the fact that most of the recent readings in Bombay ( except those announced as events with, possibly, cocktails through in) are very poorly attended. If it is imperative that in order to attend, the platform must extend to permit one to read from one's work, no matter how recent a 'poet' one is, then we must rethink the very idea of launches and readings. We must, indeed, rethink the very idea of listening and sharing and growing. We must, by extension, dismiss words like rigour, experiment, form and love from our vocabulary and substitute these perhaps with words like laziness and anything goes or ... We should stop believing that poetry is a sacred and necessary impulse that enables one to live.

This I do not accept.

Poets are practical people; we are deeply embedded in reality, I know we seek clarity at all times. I agree:there must be other reasons too --such as weekday, traffic snarls , personal problems etc. that came into play. I too have missed a film, an art opening, even book launches because of such petty inconveniences. But did ever one's dog die on the evening of the antho launch when so many poets were reading at a PEN event?

Had I taken the evening to be personal, merely celebrating my achievementas an editor I would not be so concerned.

I look forward to your response.
Best wishes
Priya

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]