Sunday October 30, 2016
The catastrophic poetry of Anne Carson
more stories from this episode
- "The system not only failed Adam Capay. It buried him alive" - Michael's essay
- The beauty and the horror in Edward Burtynsky's photographs
- Listener mail about "Manjusha Meets Her Match"
- "You Deal With What You Live In" -- a Karin Wells documentary
- The catastrophic poetry of Anne Carson
- Update: A World Bank tribunal backs El Salvador in dispute that began with Canadian mining company
- Full Episode
Anne Carson's books come with a simple one-line biography: "Anne Carson was born in Canada and teaches ancient Greek for a living." What that doesn't tell you is that she has a towering global reputation as a poet, translator, and classics scholar.
Carson has won a MacArthur "genius" grant, a Guggenheim fellowship, the Pushcart Prize for Poetry, and the T.S. Eliot Prize. Her work combines classical mythology with startling reflections on loss, monstrosity, and loneliness — reinventing ancient wounds for a modern age.
[My writing is] an attempt at catastrophe. I think most of it ends up in the middle ground. Most of us, all the time, end up in that middle ground where we're kind of making do with cliches until they run out and then patching in a few original thoughts to try to feel alive. - Anne Carson
When you read her work, it is easy to feel as if you are stumbling about in the fog on another planet. But out of the fog, phrases can strike like lightning.
Her writing is dense, irreverent, and packed with references to Sappho, Simone Weil and Emily Bronte. Her fascination with grammar and syntax is legendary.
Many of Carson's books are artifacts in themselves. "Nox," which she wrote after the death of her brother, comes in a box and opens up like an accordion. Her newest work, "Float," is a collection of 22 chapbooks, which have no fixed order and are meant to be read "freefall."
Click the button above to hear Michael's interview with Anne Carson.