A discussion of poetry theory

I see a lot of discussion and opinion-sharing on social media regarding writing poetry. I am genuinely impressed as so many people are interested in poetry and literary writing. I find everything and its opposite, but in the case of skilled person, I think it’s lucky because at least you encounter clear ideas: this way, you can compare them, talk or write about them, and perhaps change something.

I expressed my ideas at the time, but it seems that all ideas are fluid, subject to change and integration. For this to happen, it is of the utmost importance to have valid interlocutors, even if only to listen: you could ‘fluidify your thinking’ so that it lends itself to significant changes.

So, various gifted and cultured minds are concerned with verse and literary writing, and it is interesting to follow and understand them, and perhaps let them listen, if they are willing to. Yes, I read about ‘militant criticism’ or ‘committed poetry’ (in a sense that can obviously vary greatly). I reduce the whole discussion to two issues.

The first and essential issue is that of the language of writing in verse: I see that there is an insistence on the need to search for a new language, or to make better use of it, because our tradition, although important, would condition us negatively. Here I agree with those who say that we should study tradition but also forget it, because once acquired, assumptions function in the mind in a new way (or could do so) when it may seem that they no longer exist. Some people, with great impetus, believe in tearing apart one part of tradition and pointing to another: we do as we want and we can, even in the wake of the literary movements of the twentieth century.

It is common knowledge: I believe it is important to look around, read, and study. Even the fathers were aware of the literary context. To mention Italy, Francis of Assisi himself was not exactly naïve, and the exponents of the Sicilian school came from one or more traditions. On the other hand, the importance of verses does not come from the construction of a poetic theory at a desk, including the requirements of form, as if one first thought about how to write and then wrote in such and such a way: then only specialists in the field could write verses—no, writing is open, to a certain extent spontaneous, under certain conditions. No, the dimension of writing is also inscribed, for imponderable reasons, in the personality of the author. If someone notices that certain verses that remain with us echo others, I would object yes, except that no one has written them as the author does: others before me have said the things I say, but no one has done so in the same way, wrote the philosopher. Unique factors determine the existence of an important poem or school. Determinism here is a point of view adopted a posteriori, even by some sociologists of literature.

A second and debated issue is that of form. Of course, poetry stands out—let's say, from literature or any other type of prose—because of its form, somewhat trivially due to the presence of verse and the concentrated requirements that verse brings. Yes, those who want to write verse cannot help but consider this aspect; sometimes, in fact, they also are “helped” by it. If this is not taken into account, a difference is lost, I mean the being poetry of poetry itself. But sometimes it can be hindered, it depends.

As in Saussure's "Treatise…", which I believe summarises and innovates in some way the millennia of research on language, the linguistic ‘symbol’ brings together the signifier (word, acoustic image) and the signified (the concept, the meaning, the intention). It is difficult to distinguish between them in reality, and thus in poetry: but we can try by saying that concept or meaning is also the image, which is why we can talk about ‘imaginary’ and ‘imagination’ and not just the acoustic image of the word as it sounds and is spoken. Yesterday Vico, today some cognitivists have argued in this sense that the foundation of language is the image. Now some scholars may argue, on the basis of refined and erudite research, that in poetry the true meaning lies in its form, coincides with it. It is very subtle to argue about this: one can say like this, but it depends on poetics, on one's own theoretical conception of poetry, if one has it. If we talk about sculpture, it is like saying that the true meaning of Michelangelo's work lies in the author's technical skill in treating the material. That is true, but not also in the intention, I ask? I think the answer will be: of course, but you cannot distinguish between the two, because the intention is only fully realized when the formal requirements are met and resolved in them. Then I would provoke: you dismantle a poem, list the type of verses it is composed of based on the number of syllables, identify the rhetorical figures present in each line and thus evaluate. In this way, you evaluate the quality of the result. Is that right? If so, is it really possible to say that? You say that this is poetry because it is art, and so is any art. I think the author may have considered this aspect, indeed perhaps he should have, but if that's all there is to it, this kind of approach does not convince me in the slightest. It's like thinking that a car is the sum of all its constituent parts or, better still, that a woman's beauty (the only thing in the world that I would properly call beauty) is the sum of the details of her body. Absolutely not: what are we talking about?

Don't we remember the theory of form, according to which the whole is more and other than the sum of its parts?

The exceptional nature of such poetry lies not only in the singularity of language, but in the almost inseparable combination of form and content (i.e., meaning, image), and the latter can be thought of as determinable within the realm of form alone, or it may not be; it can be thought of as distinct, e.g., on the basis of a realistic poetics. But even for a poetics of this kind, objections could be raised, I know.

I cannot say whether this is merely a question of terminology that can be easily resolved by agreeing on the use of words. Why, in art, do we talk about image and imagination, as Giambattista Vico did? To think that the content of poetry is resolved in its form is only one position among many, which can be argued and is not expressed gratuitously, of course. Perhaps it is not just a question of terminology, but a substantive one: for some, form in art is everything, for others, form alone does not constitute substance, if you will pardon the expression.

To give an idea of the difficulty of the problem, think of translation in poetry. Here I ask: how can this precise form-language be translated into another form-language? Impossible: this form, which consists of the source language, must then be ‘translated’ into another form, that of the destination language. How this can happen is a sort of miracle, performed by the translator, preferably in collaboration with the author, but it does not mean that a form, whatever it may be, determines the global significance of a poem such as those by Paz or Dante, Heaney or Tranströmer. And even in this case, one might object: see? For art translated from its original form, it is always necessary to find a valid form in the target language. This is true. But how, I ask, does that poem retain its individuality in another language? What matters is that there is a suggestive and powerful meaning (content, image, intention) conveyed in that way, which does not depend so strictly on form, as one would like, but which, except for small or large variations, is capable (I mean possibility, possible) of being understood by every reader on the planet. And this is not a diatribe on form: it is, of course, only ‘one’ position, a different one. Otherwise, you can also put together a nonsensical poem, and people do, and say that form is its value: you can even claim that it is poetry. Or you can assemble content in verse that you call free, but will it be poetry? I don't know, or I say that these are just points of view and that poetry has been and is many different things, but you can't say it's poetry if it doesn't ‘speak’. But to whom? What would it mean? This too is a very debatable criterion... let's look around...

Rather, I realize that form and content in art are so closely linked that it is very difficult to separate them in discussion.

This is perhaps a decisive moment in human history, but it is heartening that so many people are devoted to writing, which would suggest that there are many around who are gifted with common sense and ‘intellect’ and who carry within themselves the value of dialogue. Otherwise, our madness will always prevail. Poetry and good literature are not invitations to unleash our worst passions, but to healthy industriousness and goodwill. I do not feel the slightest annoyance when I am fortunate enough to have even a brief exchange with a worthy interlocutor. On the other hand, it must be said that yes, I do have a slight problem with feeling rigidity, with understanding that someone is not willing to change anything in what they believe or think. We are here, we can talk about it.