Once Upon a SatARTday

Saturday, March 3

You’ll start the morning at the bookstore and read about the windy weather of Spring as well as a very special story about a Lion and a Lamb. The stories will be followed by a fun art project of a similar theme at Eclectic Art Gallery (right next door).

Call to register: 245-2665

In the eleventh hour, I’m changing course, in order to announce (drumroll please) the unveiling of Our Town Books’ very own Poets Corner. The actual one (to accompany this virtual one) in the bookstore proper. Thanks to Sally’s inspired vision, and Jim seeing it to fruition, I am left with the fun part, that of filling it with books of, or about poetry and those who write it.

We, at OTB, believe that poetry ought not be relegated to some obscure, hard to reach area of the store. While The Canterbury Tales may not equal James Patterson in sales, I’d like to think that, over time, Chaucer will prove to be nearly as important a literary figure as Patterson (if, for no other reason, by virtue of the former having written all of his tales by himself, a boast the latter cannot make).

One of the many nice things about Our Town Books (such as free coffee and warm, hearth-side hospitality) is that we try to offer books of all shapes, sizes, prices, and ages (from brand-spanking-new to antiquated to fifty-centers), on a wide variety of subjects, for a wide variety of readers of all shapes, sizes, and ages. Every customer is priceless.

So, if you’re looking for James Patterson, you’ll find him — everywhere(!) throughout the store. But if Williams’ Paterson is the book for you, you’ll find it too. Though, in just one place: the northwest corner, on your left as you enter the store, next to the free coffee. The all-new poetry section. Hurry in (or saunter if you please) and peruse to your heart’s content.

–Andy

Take Dante, for instance. Would you want to descend those swirling terza rima depths without your own personal Beatrice in hand? Such an enterprise takes uncommon dedication to get it somewhere in the vicinity of right. One cannot ever get it quite right.

In the case of Robert Pinsky, it took more hubris than anything. I remember him boasting to a packed auditorium of how he confided to his wife (his Beatrice) in bed one night that he could do it — Dante’s Inferno, that is. That he was ready for the challenge of rendering at least one-third of The Divine Comedy into rhyme-challenged English. And so he did, admirably enough, with brio and all that. But you see, that is how a poet hands another poet’s lines over to his own time, in his own language. A scholar, more academic than poet, might, on the other hand, leave a poem more faithfully realized, line by line, in another tongue.

But that leaves us with an argument over fidelity. Is meticulous, word-for-word accuracy necessarily the best tack? Or, is it better to err on the side of spiritual truth — getting the overall essence of the thing across the language barrier? Who can say? Perhaps the happiest translator is the one who cuts his or her losses and runs to the next project.

For David R. Slavitt, his new translation of Petrarch’s Canzoniere follows closely on the heels of his interpretation of Dante’s La Vita Nuova, which, he, befittingly, gave new life. In La Vita Nuova, the young Dante pines for his beloved on the streets of Florence well before she leads him through the underworld. Alas, his longings are not reciprocated by Signorina Beatrice. Just as the truly epic love of lesser known Francesco Petrarca was never requited.

Petrarch (as he is known in English), first saw Laura de Noves on Good Friday, April the 6th, 1327. From that day until his death he wrote sonnet after sonnet in her honor. Much as Cezanne painted his favorite model, Mont Sainte-Victoire, over and over en plein air, Petrarch penned his anguished amore (for Laura was already betrothed to another) in countless fourteen-liners, laying his heart bare for posterity, which, in turn, has laid the laurel of esteem on his legacy. In so doing, he secured for his beloved a place on the mantel of great muses.

But if my rhymes have purpose, it is to make
your name live on among the wise and clever
eternally. My tributes are for this.

Thus concludes Sonnet 327 (out of a total of 365 — one for each day of the year), turned deftly in Slavitt’s contemporary English. Written in the wake of her death (which occurred twenty-one years to the day after his first encounter with her), this poem attests to Petrarch’s ever waxing devotion to Laura in death. Here are the last two stanzas of Sonnet 352:

You left that splendid body here in the earth
that cloaked it like a veil when you returned
to your Maker’s realm as your destiny.

Your departure occasioned a drastic dearth
of Love and Courtesy. The light that burned
in the sky dimmed to a dismal vacancy.

But let us return to the beginning of this seven hundred year old love story. In his early sonnets, Petrarch set the tenor for a lifetime of poetic obsession. I will leave you with the first stanza of his third sonnet.

It was on that day when the sun’s bright rays fade
in pity for its maker’s passion that I
was taken unprepared at the instant when my
eyes met yours and I was at once betrayed.

–Andy

Originally published in the Jacksonville Journal Courier on February 14, 2012.

Everybody I talk to is sad about the closing of the Three-Legged Dog at 27 South Central Park Plaza. That grand space embodies Jacksonville’s history and promise. I offer the consolation of its long history, which demonstrates that the space will continue to be significant to our community.

The Marble Block was built right after the Civil War on the south side of the square. It is one of the oldest buildings in downtown Jacksonville. I don’t know much about the early tenants, but in 1911 the Farmers Bank, owned by the French family, moved into that address, where it stayed for several decades. The built-in safe is still upstairs.

After Farmers Bank took over the former Ayers Bank building at the end of West State St. in 1941, the space was occupied by Hoffman’s Floral Shop. A dropped ceiling was installed.

In the 1990s, Jack Lukeman, from the family which owned Lukeman Clothing Co., located for decades on the east side of the square, took over the space and began extensive renovations. He had the ceiling removed, revealing again the spacious three story-atrium. Lukeman wanted to use this renovated space to bring back another famous Jacksonville institution, Merrigans.

Since the early 20th century, Merrigans had been a confectionery and sandwich shop on West State St. It had a beautiful carved wooden bar back with huge mirrors, and wooden booths in back. The “urban renewal” craze of the 1970s, which did so much damage to American downtowns in the name of progress, led to the tearing down of the building that housed Merrigans. The classic furnishings traveled to Springfield, where they became part of the lunch counter at Famous-Barr, a branch of the St. Louis department store, in the new White Oaks Mall. Eventually the lunch counter closed, Famous-Barr became Macy’s, and the furniture moved on to another city.

Jack Lukeman located the old Merrigans fixtures and installed them at 27 South Central Park Plaza to create Merrigans Old Place, a shop selling sandwiches and sodas in the 1990s. But those years were not kind to downtown shops, here and everywhere else in America. The Achilles’ Café and then Due Gatti (Two Cats) continued to serve food and coffee in that location, until Joe Racey created the Three-Legged Dog, which opened in April 2007.

For Racey, and his downtown collaborators Joy French Becker and Tom Grojean, the Dog and its neighboring buildings were among the early investments in the comeback of downtown Jacksonville. Since 2007, the square has been transformed from an ugly reminder of urban renewal to a potentially beautiful and commercially functional center of a revived community. The square once again provides a calm space at the heart of town. Around it, renovations inside Art Eclectic Gallery reveal the bones of the venerable Hockenhull building, Jacksonville Art Glass creates new beauty in glass and restores the glass history of local churches, Cheryl Kelly develops photographs into art, and Jim and Sally Nurss have brought a bookstore back to Jacksonville.

Comic Book Show

Hyde Park’s Very Own Comic Shop is visiting Our Town Books.

First Aid Comics’ Webiste

First Aid Comics’ Digital Store

Friday and Saturday, February 17 and 18 from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m.

Amethyst

In this short month
of your birth

we recount your life,
which, to you, seemed longer

than it was.
Just as February, with its full moon

and empty woods,
to us, seems longer than it is.

Contrary to March, April, and May
that hop, skip, and jump

like children in its wake,
its only bloom is the gem

still on the bone of your finger.

–Andy

For Li Po, it was found (over and over again) in a rice field. Praising mountain, moon and river with equal fervor, Li seems to have been more taken with his beloved wine than with anything else. In his case, drink was not just a way of channeling the muse. Drink was the muse. And for Li Po the drink was wine. As one scholar put it, others may have drunk more of it, but no one wrote more about it.

For satisfaction in this life
taste pleasure to the limit,
And never let a goblet of gold
face the bright moon empty.

In this short passage, excerpted from one of his longer poems, Bring in the Wine, we find two of Li’s pet motifs: wine (naturally) and the moon. Many of his shorter poems strike a harmonious balance somewhere between haiku and sonnet. Combining the abstract precision of the former and the meatier complexity of the latter, Li Po wields his gift with aplomb.

Ballad of Youth

A young man of Five Barrows suburb
east of the Golden Market,
Silver saddle and white horse
cross through wind of spring.
When fallen flowers are trampled all under,
where is it he will Roam?
With a laugh he enters the tavern
of a lovely Turkish wench.

His longer poems are given to wandering meditation, as was the poet himself, who took to the road often and for extended periods. Gaining a reputation as a wandering poet, he seems to have cleared a path for future wanderers in the trade, most notably, the Japanese haiku master, Basho, whose seminal opus, The Narrow Road of the Interior, is essentially a Zen-like travelogue, part poetry, part prose. More recently, and closer to home, such wanderer poets as Vachel Lindsay and Jack Kerouac seem to have taken up the torch passed on all those years ago from the other side of the world.

Born in a western province of China at the beginning of the eighth century, during the height of the T’ang Dynasty, Li Po grew up in humble circumstances. Though soon his prodigious talent landed him among the powers that be. As court poet for the emperor, he enjoyed flavor-of-the-day status until, losing favor with others, jealous of his stature (and irked by his prodigious drinking), he was banished, yet again, to the open road from whence he’d come. And while he seemed content enough in the company of nobility, likewise, he was at ease with the poor. Generous to a fault, he tended to bestow his new-found wealth upon those in need. Still, he managed always to keep enough cash for his dearest friend of all, wine.

No matter where his wanderings took him, his faithful companion was ever at his side, and, invariably, in his belly. And whether or not the wine is to blame, legend has it that one evening, while out on the Yangtze, Li Po drowned, attempting to embrace the moon’s reflection in the water.

–Andy

Listen to a story at Our Town Books and then go next door to the Eclectic Art Gallery to interpret it in your own unique art project.

• Kindergarten through Third Grade: 10 a.m. to 11 a.m.
• Fourth through Sixth Grade: 11 a.m. to Noon.

Call Our Town Books (271-245-2665) to register. $10 registration fee.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Just as Neruda’s eloquence resonated throughout all of Latin America, Burns’ words carry far beyond Caledonia. And just as the former wrote of social justice in one poem and lust in the next, the latter could lampoon the powers that be, while praising his “luve” with equal zeal.

Countries that have suffered oppression, be it at the hands of empire or not, seem to venerate writers to a much greater degree than do wealthy political powers. Take Vaclav Havel of the Czech Republic. He was elected the first president of that newly established post-Cold War state. And you can hardly walk the streets of Dublin without running into a statue of some laureate. While in these United States we have elected a former movie star to the highest office in the land, can you imagine a poet in the Oval Office? Alas, I’m afraid Shelley was but wishfully thinking when he insisted that poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world. The Third World perhaps.

But, Scotland is a far cry from the Third World. As is Ireland, once dubbed the land of saints and scholars. Although Scotland, too, has had its fair share of scholars and those with a propensity for piety, its favorite prodigal is a most lovable sinner. Of course I’m referring to that naughty bonny boy with a “guid” heart (figuratively speaking), who stole more than a few from the lasses along the way. I make a point of my speaking figuratively, for, in a literal sense, Burns had a bad heart, which accounts for his early death.

If you’re interested in learning more about the Ploughman Poet and hearing his words spoken (brogue and all) and sung, come to Our Town Books at 7:00 this Thursday for A Night Out With Robert Burns. Oh, and there’ll be haggis (care of Dr. Ugs cafe) and scotch (care of Jim) to boot. And go easy on the scotch. For one thing it ain’t cheap — no jokes regarding Scottish frugality please. For another, the whole clan will be trekking over to the Pine Tree Studio for the entertainment portion of the evening. And we wouldn’t want anyone losing his or her footing along the way.

P.S.
We’ll have copies of a book, sharing the event’s title, for sale.

Slainte Mhath!

Andy