Anne Carson

I went to the Anne Carson reading last Wednesday night and was completely blown away by the uniqueness of her work. As I was walking back to my room, I called my mother to tell her that I was going to drop out of school and become a writer. Of course I was joking, mostly because I am not half that brave. The other reason is that hearing the work of a writer as talented as Carson is very daunting. Even as you admire it, you can’t help but wonder to yourself how one ever becomes so creative. 

What I most admired about Carson’s work is that, during most of the reading, I almost wasn’t sure whether I should be laughing or crying. There were, of course, times when I definitely knew. I couldn’t stop laughing during some of her translations, and the scene she read from her book in which the narrator waits at the death bed of his mother was beautiful, haunting, and sad. There were some cases, however, when I was torn between the two emotions. One moment that I’m sure many who were there will remember was her line, “You could hold all of human sense in your hand and still have room for your dick.” On one hand, this is hilarious, both in its blunt critique of humanity and in its uncomfortable and surprising imagery. At the same time, however, the vulgarity of this statement makes it powerfully sad. Humans are not creatures of extreme wisdom and understanding, as we like to think, but rather creatures very base in their instincts and actions. 

I think that if anyone else experimented with form and content in the ways Anne Carson has, it might come across as very forced. If I wrote an essay in 59 numbered paragraphs, people would read it and think that I did so for the sole purpose of trying to seem “edgy” or “different.” The same can be said of the translation of Catullus to a poem about the synonyms of the word anus. Carson, however, completely pulls it off. My hypothesis is that it works because she doesn’t take herself entirely seriously. “This essay is written in 59 numbered paragraphs,” she said, “because it gives the audience hope.” Clearly she can poke fun at the analytical lens through which a lot of written work is viewed. I think this is what I most admired about Carson. She hasn’t taken it upon herself to change the world of writing. She experiments not to be experimental, but simply because that is who she is. Her writing felt completely genuine in that it sounded like it was written entirely for herself. It is the sign of a great writer that despite this, she can still fill the entire Cemex Auditorium. This is what I needed to realize when I left the reading on Wednesday. The skill of another writer should not be daunting, for if you’re trying to write like somebody else, there really is no point. Anne Carson knows this, and she is herself to the fullest degree.