{"id":19114,"date":"2011-08-08T08:00:43","date_gmt":"2011-08-08T12:00:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=19114"},"modified":"2011-08-08T14:10:09","modified_gmt":"2011-08-08T18:10:09","slug":"david-orr-lost-in-the-archives-summer-1996","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2011\/08\/08\/david-orr-lost-in-the-archives-summer-1996\/","title":{"rendered":"David Orr: Lost in the Archives, Summer 1996"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

A. R. Ammons.<\/p><\/div>\n

\u201cLocality,\u201d said Frost, \u201cgives art.\u201d It\u2019s an aphorism that directs us toward, well, directions. But when we\u2019re talking about space, we\u2019re also usually talking about time\u2014which means it\u2019s important to think about when, not just where, an artist finds the locality that\u2019s going to be doing the giving.<\/p>\n

These questions have particular relevance to the Summer 1996 issue of The Paris Review<\/em> because the subject of \u201cThe Art of Poetry\u201d interview is A. R. Ammons. Ammons has been slightly out of fashion since his death in 2001\u2014fame, as Emily Dickinson observed, is fickle food\u2014but he was a bracingly intelligent writer, and his relationship to the idea of place is intriguing. In part, it\u2019s intriguing because he can\u2019t seem to determine whether he is actually Southern after having lived for three decades in the north. Consider:<\/p>\n

INTERVIEWER: You\u2019ve spent more time in the north [at Cornell].<\/p>\n

AMMONS: Much more. I lived the first twenty-four years in the South. I\u2019ve been in Ithaca more than thirty years.<\/p>\n

INTERVIEWER: Are you conscious of being a Southerner here?<\/p>\n

AMMONS: I don\u2019t hear my own voice, but of course everyone else does, and I\u2019m sure they\u2019re all conscious of the fact that I\u2019m Southern, but I am mostly not conscious of it. In the first years, I was tremendously nostalgic, constantly longing for the South: for one\u2019s life, for one\u2019s origin, for one\u2019s kindred. Now I feel more at home here than I would in the South. But I don\u2019t feel at home\u2014I\u2019ll never feel at home\u2014anywhere.<\/p>\n

On one hand, this is the kind of thing poets like to say because it recalls the expatriate glamour of the early twentieth century (\u201cI have beaten out my exile,\u201d announced Pound, in the most self-satisfied formulation of this maneuver). On the other hand, Ammons wasn\u2019t just a poet. He was a Southerner, and every Southerner understands the difficulty of holding on to an identity that is not, shall we say, always desirable. As C. Vann Woodward put it more than fifty years ago, \u201cwhen [a Southerner] ventures among strangers, particularly up North, how often does he yield to the impulse to suppress the identifying idiom, to avoid the awkward subject, and to blend inconspicuously into the national pattern\u2014to act the role of the standard American?\u201d For a figure like Ammons, the temptation is to act not simply as a standard American, but as a standard American poet\u2014which is to say, a citizen of Nowhere.<\/p>\n

This approach is especially attractive if you happen to come from the backwoods, as Ammons did. (The population of his boyhood home, Whiteville, North Carolina, is about five thousand.) But even if you\u2019re from a slightly more cosmopolitan area of the South<\/a>, as I am, you can understand the appeal. Many times I\u2019ve wondered whether my regional identification remains entirely genuine, especially since I\u2019ve largely lost my native accent.\u00a0I haven\u2019t been a resident of my home state of South Carolina since August 1996\u2014thus the date of the issue under discussion\u2014and I now live in Ithaca, which makes Ammons\u2019s unsettled position almost literally my own. This is underlined every time I run across traces of his lingering presence<\/a>, as I often do. In those moments, I have an odd double response: I feel both the prickly respect younger poets reserve for older writers and the rush of warmth that comes from encountering, as Ammons puts it, \u201cone\u2019s origin, one\u2019s kindred\u201d in a place far from home.<\/p>\n

Because Ammons remains, for all his hesitations, utterly Southern. That\u2019s obvious, of course, in conspicuously regional pieces like \u201cFirst Carolina Said-Song,\u201d which makes use of a rich country dialect (\u201cdead-level best,\u201d \u201cawfulest rainstorm,\u201d \u201cgrowed over with soapbushes\u201d). \u00a0But for me, Ammons\u2019 Southerness is strongest and subtlest in a poem like \u201cDunes:\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Taking root in windy sand
is not an easy
way
to go about
finding a place to stay.<\/p>\n

A ditchbank or wood\u2019s-edge
has firmer ground.<\/p>\n

In a loose world though
something can be started \u2014
a root touch water,
a tip break sand \u2014<\/p>\n

Mounds from that can rise
on held mounds,
a gesture of building, keeping,
a trapping
into shape.<\/p>\n

Firm ground is not available ground.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

For Ammons, and for so many Southern poets, the act of writing involves destabilizing one\u2019s own past in order to destabilize the monolithic bulk of the South itself. But, as Shelley knew, the wind that erodes the soil carries the seed\u2014and as Ammons would add, the seed that grips the soil prevents another plant from growing. By her dispersed children, the South is preserved and destroyed, however delayed the reckoning.<\/p>\n

David Orr<\/a> is the poetry columnist for <\/em>The New York Times Book Review and the author of <\/em>Beautiful and Pointless: A Guide to Modern Poetry<\/a>. He will be\u00a0blogging<\/a> from time to time about poetry from <\/em>The Paris Review\u2019s back issues.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cLocality,\u201d said Frost, \u201cgives art.\u201d It\u2019s an aphorism that directs us toward, well, directions. But when we\u2019re talking about space, we\u2019re also usually talking about time\u2014which means it\u2019s important to think about when, not just where, an artist finds the locality that\u2019s going to be doing the giving. These questions have particular relevance to the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":160,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2157],"tags":[2742,3114,3117,2056,3116,3115,3111,3112,173,3110,3118,2625,3113],"class_list":["post-19114","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-on-poetry","tag-a-r-ammons","tag-c-vann-woodward","tag-dunes","tag-emily-dickinson","tag-expatriate","tag-ezra-pound","tag-first-carolina-said-song","tag-ithaca","tag-north-carolina","tag-robert-frost","tag-shelley","tag-south","tag-south-carolina"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nDavid Orr: Lost in the Archives, Summer 1996 by David Orr<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"August 8, 2011 \u2013 \u201cLocality,\u201d said Frost, \u201cgives art.\u201d It\u2019s an aphorism that directs us toward, well, directions. 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