David Orr reviews Robert Hass

I'm not terribly familiar with Orr's reviews or criticism--I just read his article "The Greatness Game" from the New York Times 19 Feb. 2009--but I've think I've found somebody that helps me fold my arms over my chest and turn my face into a wince. Don't misunderstand me; I enjoy his prose and the depth of the sources that influence his argument, but as that argument unfolds, I find myself a little frustrated.

In Orr's review of Hass's latest collection of new and published poems, The Apple Trees at Olema, Orr argues that Hass has written some great poems, but his newer work is reluctant to embrace the "kind of truth" found in earlier work.

Orr writes, "One might say that the problem with Hass’s career is that as he’s gotten older, his poems have been more willing to say 'blackberry, blackberry, blackberry' than to declare, 'There are limits to imagination.'" Fine. I get it. But, Orr, while trying to lessen the criticism with the standard empty rhetoric of "one might say," is still basically claiming that when a poet repeats the word "blackberry" three times it's convenient, but when a poet comments on the conception of imagination, great work is being done.

To this I say "phooey." A great poem doesn't need to embrace truth. It needs to embrace craft. Both would be great, but forced to choose, I'll take craft over truth. It's not that I don't believe that there is truth out there in the universe--call me naive, but I do--it's that I believe craft is where we're going to have the better arguments over greatness. What makes "blackberry, blackberry, blackberry" great? Me first. Then you.

So, why all of this talk about greatness? Underpinning this review is Orr's idea (discussed in more detail in "The Greatness Game") that poetry has become swallowed by a hollow careerism that has lessened the greatness of poetry. By arguing that Hass's newer work is somehow less focused on truth (grand claims?) than his earlier work, Orr further supports his ongoing argument that careerism is reducing the Greatness of contemporary poetry.

My face hurts.