Write the poem, ?eat the poem
To call Andrei Codrescu prolific is a cliché. It is impossible to figure out a way to describe him without mentioning the dozens of novels, poetry collections and essays he’s penned, but we’ve all grown bored with those kinds of introductions. LSU English Professor Jim Bennett may have put it best at the recent Readers and Writers event when he said, “Andrei’s latest book. Well, I assume it’s his latest book, though it has been out for several weeks now.”
Codrescu’s latest book (I’m typing furiously in the hopes that this is still true by the time I finish writing), The Posthuman Dada Guide: Tzara and Lenin Play Chess, is the culmination of Codrescu’s lifelong love affair with language, politics, freedom and art. A slim book, shaped much like a Zagat’s, The Guide is complete with alphabetical entries on subjects as broad as “audience” and “the masses” and as comprehensive as “human, posthuman, transhuman.” The text is densely packed with contemplative analysis of the human condition, the power of history and the history of power. It reads the way a real-life conversation with the author flows: simultaneously erratic and concise.
Before I had read a full page, I began imagining Codrescu on a stool in the window at the famed Molly’s bar in New Orleans, holding court with that charming cadenced Romanian accent that often distracts listeners from the lightning-paced leaps of his imagination.
“This feels like a conversation,” I suggested to him recently. “I imagined you in Molly’s talking this through.”
“Tristan Tzara has been the greatest influence on my life and work,” Codrescu explained. “Tzara was forbidden in Romania when I was 14 and beginning to write. So I was immediately drawn to him, and have been returning to him ever since.” He paused. “I even named one of my kids Tristan.” He paused again.
Had I just flippantly dismissed the greatest influence in this noteworthy writer’s career? But then Codrescu smiled and nodded, saying, “So, yes, it was born of conversation. A conversation with Tzara. A 45-year-old conversation in the Molly’s of the mind.”
Codrescu’s recent reading on the LSU campus was bittersweet for many. After 25 years on the English Department faculty, Codrescu finished his final semester of teaching at LSU and has relocated to the “Buffalo River Wilderness” of Arkansas. That doesn’t mean he is retired, though.
Codrescu is at work on a book inspired by the famed medieval Arabian Nights fairy tales, and later this year, he’ll release The Poetry Lesson, a reflection on the art of teaching art. “The whole teaching of poetry business is funny,” Codrescu said. “It’s one of the best ways for kids to waste their parents’ money.”
Codrescu describes one of these recent “funny” lessons in an article in Inside Higher Ed called “Dada in the Classroom.” He instructed his students to write a poem on their favorite fruit, bring it to class, read it, and then share the fruit with the class.
“I teach this 3-to-6 p.m. seminar,” Codrescu said. “And everyone is starving, so I killed two birds with one stone. They got to write poetry and eat it.” codrescu.com/livesite
