Setting poetry to music

Posted in music, poetry by

Most of the music I like doesn’t have much to do with how I feel about the lyrics. While this is something I realized long ago, I still find it a little odd. As someone who enjoys poetry so much, it seems that a well-written poem set to stimulating music would be ideal. But with most of the music I listen to, lyrics just aren’t the main focus.

One exception to this is Morrissey. He is quite possibly the only artist whose lyrics I appreciate more than I do the music. And I suppose the bookish part of me enjoys all of the allusions to literature Morrissey often makes.

Morrissey was the lead singer for The Smiths in the 1980s, and the band wrote a song called “Cemetry Gates” (FYI, the typo isn’t mine; that’s how the title is spelt). The song contains a few references to literature, including mentioning three great poets: John Keats, W. B. Yeats and Oscar Wilde.

As I listened to “Cemetry Gates” the other day, I started to think about songs and poetry. I ended up considering songs that contain poems written by famous poets.

The first to enter my mind was Ben Harper’s “I’ll Rise.” His adaption of Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise” is quite inspirational, especially when witnessed live.

Rufus Wainwright set William Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 20” to music.

The lyrics in Leonard Cohen’s “Take This Waltz” are his translation of Federico García Lorca’s poem “Pequeño Vals Vienés.”

I also thought about Billy Bragg, whose song “A Pict Song” uses Rudyard Kipling’s poem of the same name, but I couldn’t find an appropriate video to post.

I wonder how musicians are inspired to adapt a poem into a song. Did the melodies pop into their minds when they read these poems? Or were they so compelled by these words that they wanted to somehow make it their own? Did they want those words to reach a wider audience?

I don’t know the answer, but my guess is that it’s probably different for each case. But I certainly love the interconnectivity.

Book design’s role in interpreting words

Posted in book design, e-books, publishing by

How much does a book’s design effect how you interpret the words? Last week I attended a panel discussion at the Design Exchange that got me thinking about the relationship between design and content. The event was called Book: Burning Questions—The Future of The Book and Book Industry in Canada.

The panelists:

Gilbert Li R.G.D., Founder and Creative Director of The Office of Gilbert Li
Margie Miller, Creative Director of Harlequin Enterprises
Scott Richardson, Vice President & Creative Director, Canadian Publishing of Random House Canada
Laura Stein, Creative Director, Communications, Bruce Mau Design
Kate Taylor, Globe and Mail Arts Writer and Novelist

I don’t give book design much conscious thought, but it’s obviously important. In my last post, I mentioned how a cover influences which books I pick up in a bookstore. We do judge books by their covers.

The idea of online browsing came up. In a traditional bookstore, or in a library, visitors aren’t usually looking for anything in particular. They walk around until an attractive cover or spine gets them to pick up the book. With online bookstores, such as Amazon, visitors tend to search rather than browse. Most of the time, they already know what they’re looking for. It becomes more about getting the right title to pop up when someone does a search, rather than trying to draw someone in with design.

Book design goes deeper than the cover. Designers choose how words are laid out on the page, the size of the pages, which fonts to use. The panel mentioned that designers are losing control. With e-books, the reader controls many or all of these elements.

I found all of these points interesting, but I was most fascinated by the discussion of how design can effect the written content. Knowing the format of the book might influence what the writer chooses to write about. For example, panelists discussed the idea of multimedia add-ons. If the writer knows the content will be published with these extras that will describe what the writer wants to convey, then perhaps there won’t be a description offered with words.

The evening left me with a lot to think about. How will the increasing digitalization of books change how stories are interpreted? Will it change how writers write? Will it alter the way the content is valued?

There will always be new formats and new technology. This doesn’t necessarily make the experience of reading better or worse. It just makes it different, as it has for any generation before this one. And, the truth is, we will never know what we’re missing.

 

Five reasons I don’t read e-books

Posted in e-books, publishing by

I’m not going to pretend I know a lot about e-books. I don’t. But a friend recently asked me if I would ever buy an e-reader. My first instinct was to say no. I consider myself a bit of a purist who prefers the look and feel of printed pages. But my friend’s question made me wonder if there were other reasons, too. Here’s what I came up with.

I want to lend (and borrow) books

I’m not sure how it works with e-readers. Can you lend e-books to your friends like you can with hard copies? From the (very) superficial research I did, I think e-books can be loaned for a limited period. The process for lending sounded like a bit of a hassle, too. It seems much easier to hand over a physical book to your friend when he/she is over for a drink. Also, I wouldn’t want to limit the time my friend has to read the book. Then again, if your friends are really terrible at returning things, the e-book option could be a good one for you.

I like visiting bookstores

It’s interesting how bookstores have different atmospheres or personalities. I often enter bookstores just to browse and soak in that atmosphere. I like to look at covers and see which artwork or title draws me in to read the cover copy. I suppose there’s an option to browse an e-book store. But I wonder if I’d click the covers of the same books I’d pull off the shelves.

A house with empty bookshelves isn’t a home

Besides enjoying the act of reading books, I like looking at them, too. I grew up in a house filled with books. I think if I lived in a place that didn’t have a few full bookshelves, it wouldn’t feel like home. Plus, I do enjoy it when people come over and browse through my bookshelves. They point out books they’ve always wanted to read or ones that they already have. I’ve learned a lot about my friends by getting into discussions about books.

I want to write in the margins

I don’t do it all the time, but sometimes I like to write in my books. I’ll highlight sections of interest, point out questions I have or note themes that arise. Sometimes I will even draw little diagrams, getting a sense of the scene or idea being described. With e-books, I won’t be able to generate the same top-quality illustrations that I can with a pen or pencil.

I’m slow to adopt new technology

I came to terms with this a while ago. I’m just not the type of person who gets excited about new technology. So it’s quite possible that this reason is the biggest reason I have yet to read a single e-book. I didn’t get an iPod until last year, and I still prefer to listen to CDs at home. I was still shooting with film when everyone was getting bored of the first and second wave of digital cameras. And I was one of the last of my friends to get a cell phone. So if e-books become the main way to read books, I’m sure I will board the ship…eventually. But until it gets to that point, I’ll still be at the neighbourhood bookstore, pulling books off the shelves and turning the pages.

The significance of libraries

Posted in libraries, Uncategorized by

I’ve been thinking about libraries a lot lately. Partly because of a school project I’m working on, partly because of the threat that city council could close branches to save money.

But thinking about libraries isn’t a new thing for me. I recently dug up some older posts I wrote (originally posted on blogs that I no longer update).

Here’s something I wrote in March 2006, when I was in university:

I went to the library at school today (yes, on a Saturday). I went because I feel like I am so behind, and I was not looking forward to spending the day at school. But I love libraries. They are so quiet and peaceful. And then there are the books. I can be sitting at my computer with the world wide web at my fingertips, but being surrounded by such a vast number of tangible resources really gives a sense of the large amount of information and ideas out there.

 Anyway, I had fun researching for a couple of essays I have coming up. The stress isn’t as great now that I know what I am writing about, and I’m getting into it.

 I wandered through rows and rows of books with no one around. It was a really serene day. And then off to read by the floor-to-ceiling windows with the sunshine pouring onto the pages. It made me feel good about what I’m doing. It reminded me of when I was little and told my mom I wanted to move into the library.

The library was vital to my university experience. I went to the library to find books and to get help from the librarian to conduct research for papers. I went to the library when I needed access to a computer. I went to the library to find some quiet study space. But I also spent time there to relax.

I visited that university library in June 2010, a few years after I graduated:

It’s pouring outside, but I find warmth surrounded by these concrete walls. I haven’t been here in a while, but it feels like I’ve never left. The silence. The serenity. Nothing compares to the comfort of a library. 

My memory tells my feet where to take me. I’m led to the same rows of books I would duck into in between classes or when the day was done and I just wasn’t ready to go home yet. 

Almost nothing has changed. Many of the books I used to pick up are on the same shelves—the same books that provided me with comfort and entertainment years ago. Everything appears to be placed where it was when I left. For some reason, it strikes me that even the lighting is the same. Well, of course it would be, I think to myself. But it makes me feel as if I’ve gone back in time—or as if time stood still, waiting for me to return to where I belong.

I walk slowly through the stacks, glancing left and right, up and down. Wordsworth, Beckett, Coleridge, Keats, Emerson, Dryden, Woolf, Milton, Chaucer.

As I glance at these names, one book in particular comes to the forefront of my mind. I remember searching for it on these exact shelves after a professor mentioned it in class. It’s probably still here. I look up and down the aisles. I only have a few minutes—not enough time to go back and look it up in the catalogue. I can remember what it looks like. I can still feel its weight in my hands.

It’s almost time to go; I’m going to miss my bus. I become slightly frantic as I’m now determined to find it. Aha! I spot the T.S. Eliot section. But there are many, many books here. My fingers trace the spines as I search, moving faster and faster, still trying to look at each title thoroughly so I don’t miss it. And then, when I’ve almost given up, I see it. It sits on the bottom shelf, almost at the floor. The Waste Land: A Facsimile and Transcript of the Original Drafts.

The big, blue hardcover calls out to me to pick it up. I know I am not able to check this book out, that I can’t take it home with me. I need to get going. But I slide it out of its place anyway. I turn the pages and notice how they’ve yellowed at the corners. I breathe in the familiar musty scent. But time has run out. I put it back with the other Eliot works. 

As I rush to the bus stop, I wonder how many students, if any, have checked out that volume since the last time I did. I smile to myself as I imagine some nerdy girl or boy finding comfort walking amongst those literary giants.

When I think about it, it seems a bit odd that The Waste Land: A Facsimile and Transcript of the Original Drafts was the book I felt compelled to look for. But when I think about it some more, it doesn’t seem so odd. I didn’t know it existed until that day our professor told us about it in class. When I checked it out of the library, I remember how cool it was to see Eliot’s handwritten notes and Ezra Pound’s handwritten edits. So it always stuck with me.

Even though I love looking for books in libraries, throughout my life, libraries have been more than a place to find information. They’ve been more than a place to find something entertaining to read. I’ve always thought of the library as my refuge; it’s the place I could go to when things got to be too much.

But even this isn’t why I think libraries are so significant. Libraries are centres that bring the community together. They give everyone equal access to information and the opportunity for education.

The Toronto Public Library offers everything from tutoring services, ESL programs, book clubs, job search help, legal services, health and wellness programs and a lot more. A couple of years ago I read an article about a homeless man who spent his days at the Toronto Reference Library. Through the use of the library’s resources, he was able to start his own business and get back on his feet.

So if you’re someone who thinks libraries aren’t important simply because you don’t check out materials, think again. There is so much more to libraries than the books they hold.

Dial up some poetry

Posted in poetry by

Hearing someone recite poetry over the phone is quite a romantic notion. From now until July 14, you’re just one phone number away from having this notion become a reality.

In this era of social media mania, poet Heather Christle has taken to the good old-fashioned phone call to connect with fans. To promote her latest book of poetry, The Trees The Trees, Christle will read you a poem when you dial her number.

If you read an earlier post of mine, you know how much I enjoy hearing poets read their work. This could be the next best thing to attending a reading. It might even be better. Without any visual distractions, the listener can focus on the sounds and words more than during an in-person reading. And since this isn’t a recording that could be found online or on CD, there’s a personal element and connection that no other form of media could offer.

To hear Christle read a poem, dial (413) 570-3077 before July 14 during the following time periods (EST):

Monday: 10 a.m.-6 p.m.
Tuesday: 10 a.m.-1 p.m.
Wednesday: 10 a.m.-6 p.m.
Thursday: 10 a.m.-1 p.m.
Friday: 10 a.m.-6 p.m.
Saturday: 12 p.m.-6 p.m.
Sunday: 12 p.m.-6 p.m.