I usually only ever feel like writing about books I really love, and I usually don’t end up doing so because I mull it over for so long I lose the thread. So here are some quick thoughts and immediate reactions to Dani Spinosa’s beautiful “OO: Typewriter Poems.” Mainly, on how much it makes me want to go make stuff.
First—labour. You can see and feel the work in these poems. The physical presence of the poet—in the typing, and to a lesser extent, in rendering the work in electronic format to make a book. It gives the book a striking and intimate immediacy. The poems where layers of typing obscure words are especially poignant—like I could feel the process of the author writing and erasing through writing and how much thought and emotion might go into such an act. This tactile thoughtful beauty makes me want to go write asap.
Next—when I’m really excited about a book I can barely focus on it. My mind starts spinning off at full speed thinking about what it means and also what art I want to make inspired by it. That’s what I felt here and I feel so gratified by the conversation between Dani Spinosa and Kate Siklosi at the end in which this idea—of inspiration and in being in conversation with other authors—is so elevated. That this reaction is not a matter of being distractible, but a way of engaging.
I love, too, the discussion of the gendered elements of that dynamic. This too is also personally so gratifying for me given that I have an interest in writing through/back at male (and sometimes misogynistic) writers through history whose work has inspired me. I’ve been thinking lately of doing more poems like Other Observations and keep wondering if anyone would care for such a book, but here I find this impulse shown to be not a personal compulsion but rather a broader interest shared with other writers. That’s pretty cool.
What’s especially interesting too is that a book like this could easily be cruel, condescending, or dismissive. But the author interacts with others in a way that is critical but not mean-spirited. It’s thoughtful and a pleasure to experience.
I also love the emphasis in the afterword conversation that the author places on not caring about making perfect things or what others think. This idea is the reason I keep this blog. There is so much pressure—whether from other writers or from the impulse to professionalize or from Instagram—to only create and share perfect things and that for me absolutely obliterates creativity. More mess, more attempts, more works in progress, more everything please.
Also from the afterword—femmeship. This is lovely and really open in a kind of riot grrrl way that’s warm and strong and encouraging and comforting and inspiring. A concept that pushes back at any impulse that says there’s not enough space.
The discussion of the kind of insecure and boastful aspect of asking other people if they’ve read X is especially well taken here, because like the potential of such a book to be cruel it also has the potential to be snobby and exclusive—like, what, you don’t know all these author? Psh. But this too it avoids through thoughtfulness and an appreciation of the relationships between authors—the connections—rather than treating one’s influences and passions as tokens in an avant-gardist social status game. Instead this is a work of enthusiasm, sharing this catalogue of other writers with readers with affection.
I loved this book. I love that it exists for people who might just be discovering visual poetry and becoming visual poets now. I think of myself about a decade ago, digging around for women visual poets, printing out Mary Ellen Solt’s poems and my sister binding them into a book for me. Sitting in my room reading in a sunbeam, my mom ironing in the next room, reading about Solt writing on her ironing board. I still have that homemade book on my shelf. I’m so glad this book exists—for what it means not only to me to read it now, but for what it will mean to others who are looking for a way in to vispo that speaks to them and their lives. I love that it exists for the people who are going to be totally blown away by Spinosa and Siklosi’s conversation, having never read anything quite like that before. This book is a real gift to vispo, it’s fans and present and future practitioners. It means a lot.
