Literary journals in the age of the internet

Newsweek magazine recently celebrated Arianna Huffington as the savior of online journalism, so I thought a Huffington Post piece on “17 Literary Journals that Might Survive the Internet” might offer some unique insights into how magazines like qarrtsiluni could better leverage the ever-evolving technologies of web distribution. No such luck.

In his set-up, Anis Shivani asks how literary magazines are surviving and thriving amidst the rise of the Internet, but all the examples are of one particular kind of literary magazine: those existing primarily or entirely in print. It’s a classic bait-and-switch. And there’s a pretty amusing dissonance between the medium and the message here: a procession of brief, punchy quotes from lit mag editors decrying the shallowness of our culture, each accompanied by a poll to let readers vote on whether their particular magazine is dead or thriving, on a scale of 1 to 10. Still, unlike Shivani’s mean-spirited compendium of over-rated writers from last week, this new piece of HuffPo literary link-bait is invaluable for its insights into the thinking of the American literary print-magazine establishment. I think the editor of Pleiades, Wayne Miller, best encapsulates the scarcity-thinking that seems to afflict most of these editors:

As more people put out literary publications — and the Internet makes this even easier, since online magazines don’t need to secure distribution — it becomes increasingly difficult to capture the attention of an audience that’s naturally limited in size. I don’t think the Internet shrinks or grows that audience significantly, it just spreads it even thinner.

I strongly disagree that the audience for quality poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction is fixed; that hasn’t been my experience at all. This is just anecdotal evidence, of course, but I’ve been told more times than I can count that publications like qarrtsiluni and even Via Negativa have turned people on to poetry for the first time since they were in college. My hunch is that online literary magazines and blogs and their various hybrids are reaching a vast number of people who never read print literary magazines, whether through poverty (that’s been my excuse) or sheer ignorance of their existence. Not everyone lives near a large bookstore or university library, but anyone with a good dial-up connection can read literature for free online — and then have a conversation with other readers, and even with the author. The internet is not only bringing serious writing into people’s homes, it’s making it more down-home at the same time. And I believe it’s selling books. (It’s selling mine, at any rate.)

Curious, I click through to the Pleiades website, and experience the usual bafflement I feel with such magazines: like, where is it? I click on “Current Issue,” and there’s nothing but a photo of the cover and a list of the contents, no clickable links to any sample content, no links to authors’ websites, not even a goddamn link to order the issue online! What is the point of the webpage, then? My only option, apparently, is to subscribe to the journal. There’s a “Back Issues” page, but it too provides no clue about how to obtain the magazines displayed there. I feel like I’m peering into the window display of a closed bookstore, or perhaps a museum diorama.

Not all the literary magazines on show at the HuffPo are quite this clueless, though. I really hope the Pleiades editors read the comments from The Southern Review editor Jeann Leiby:

[O]ver the last two years, our subscription base has grown — not decreased. In large part, this is because of the internet and social networking websites. With the internet, it is easier — and less expensive — to advertise, to broaden our audience, and to entice people to The Southern Review’s printed pages. I’m not saying that I think online literary journals don’t have a place or are in any way lesser than print journals — only that the two things need not be mutually exclusive. I think there is audience enough for all of us.

Yes. Thank you!

Some of the points these editors make about the distracted nature of online reading strike me as quite valid, too, though there are various ways to get around that. They all seem pretty poorly informed about the variety of electronic, podcasting, and print-on-demand options available to them.

Take Richard Burgon of Boulevard magazine: “Literary journals (and books) offer the subtle pleasures of touch, portability and visibility — that strange delight their writers, and readers too, feel in seeing books physically exist in a bookstore or other public place — that the internet can’t yet duplicate” — as if “the internet” presented a monolithic reading experience, and were the only alternative to traditional print publication. What about the Kindle, for example, which Jeff Bezos insists will remain a reading-only device, one free of distractions from email and the web? I gather from those who own one that the reading experience is really quite comparable to a paperback book, with very little eye-strain. John Miedema — he of Slow Reading fame, as strong a critic of online reading habits as anyone you’ll find — has given it pretty good reviews:

For the most part, I felt like I was reading a book, only a bit slower. I suspect my base reading skills are being rewired just slightly, like the experience of seeing through a new pair of glasses. Sometimes I scan pages when I read, but on the Kindle I was forced to click ahead one page at a time, and could not easily jump back and forth over multiple pages. I would hate to cram a textbook this way. […] After reading on the Kindle, I also read a print book and again found it a richer reading experience, but only marginally. In the future, I will make a point of distinguishing ebooks from ereaders. The Kindle and its competitors are not interesting because they mix digital technology with book content, i.e., ebooks; the computer did that. Ereaders are compelling because they merge digital technology with an acceptable physical interface for long-form reading.

The Huffington Post may or may not have the keys to the future of online journalism (and I know quite a few science bloggers who would choke at the suggestion), but if you’re looking for insights into the future of literary publishing, you’re better off reading real book bloggers like John.

Rethinking the blog: new design, a digression on SEO, and the return of the Woodrat Podcast

If you’re reading this in a feed reader or your email inbox, you might want to click through and check out the new blog redesign. Or not — it’s really very similar to my last redesign, except that now I am actually using the theme (Kirby, by Ian Stewart) that last time was merely my inspiration. It’s also the theme that inspired the new default theme that ships with self-hosted WordPress, TwentyTen, so it’s a look you’ll probably be seeing a lot more of in the months and years to come.

Why the change? I love messing around with CSS and tweaking PHP templates, but after a while, if you’re neither a trained designer nor a skilled programmer, a blog theme kind of wears out. I was getting increasingly frustrated with my own inability to find the proper fonts, colors and proportions, and a couple of technical glitches in the way that certain plugins interacted with my old theme defeated all my attempts to troubleshoot. It was ultimately less work to import all my significant tweaks into a new, more technically sophisticated theme than to keep hacking the old. And in the process of making a single sidebar into a double one, somehow I managed to finesse the spacing so that I have both a wider main column and more white space on the sides (from 960 pixels wide it’s back down to 940), without — I hope — making things feel too crowded.

I heeded the advice from a couple people after the last redesign and did away with the colored box around the sidebar. This theme also includes the option of putting sidebar material in a four-column footer (see Morning Porch for an example). I might still use that space here; I don’t know. I did reduce the number of posts displayed on the main page to just five so the site would load more quickly, but I still tend to think that if you want people to see anything in the footer, you have to have either really short posts (as at Morning Porch) or else post just the titles and short excerpts with “read more” links.

(On a technical note, for the benefit of other self-hosted WordPress bloggers: it proved quite easy to add the new custom menus feature introduced with WordPress 3.0. I followed this tutorial.)

One of the niftiest features of the old blog was the magic javascripty drop-down categories menu activated by a “browse” link in the navigation bar. I don’t have so many categories that I can’t simply list them in the sidebar, as I’ve done, and I believe with the categories showing now, the search engines should index the site more effectively. Which brings me to…

A brief digression on SEO

I am not after more traffic for Via Negativa, necessarily, I just want the right readers to be able to find it. To me, that’s what search-engine optimization (SEO) is really all about: making your content maximally available to its optimal audience, however large or small, general or specialized it might be. Popularity in and of itself should never be a goal for noncommercial bloggers: it leads to higher hosting costs, more spam comments, more malicious hacker attacks, and eventually, perhaps even a loss of the very readers you want to attract if your blog becomes a popular commenting spot for bullies with an axe to grind. Like many people, I was saddened today to read that Ron Silliman, the most popular poetry blogger in English, has felt compelled to shut down comments altogether, though I totally empathize with his position. It made me realize: hey, it’s good to be small.

It’s not just size, though. Via Negativa is a very different kind of poetry blog from Silliman’s, and I don’t think those of us who regularly post drafts of our own work, and who are more interested in appreciation than critical assertions when talking about other people’s poetry, are in any danger of attracting large numbers of commenters who, as Silliman put it, see poetry as a contact sport. Of course, rude and offensive comments are hardly restricted to literary criticism blogs these days; they’re the bane of online newspapers and YouTube videos as well. But as long as your site doesn’t get too popular, moderating comments isn’t too much of a chore. In seven years of blogging, I don’t think I’ve gotten more than a dozen truly hateful comments.

So with all this in mind, I think the question of whether or how much to tailor one’s content to fit likely searches becomes a lot easier to answer. Rather than obsessing over SEO, it makes more sense to expend energy finding, linking to, and commenting on great blogs, because that’s where your best and most thoughtful readers are going to come from — not to mention the inspiration for your next post. Literary, nature, and other niche bloggers need to work on building cultures of generosity rather than building our personal brands, as so many blogging gurus urge us to do. Then again, Silliman has always been very generous with links, and look where it got him.

The return of the Woodrat Podcast

I still have a podcast link-button at the top of the sidebar, and that’s because I do plan to resume podcasting next month. I’m not sure yet whether I will again be posting episodes once a week, or whether I’ll drop back to once every two weeks, but regardless, it will continue to be a highly edited show consisting mainly of interviews with writers, naturalists, artists, and other kindred spirits. The idea, as before, will be to try and elicit discussions of interest to the sort of people who read Via Negativa. I am less interested in records of achievement than in unique backgrounds and perspectives. I have a list of possible interviewees who I’ll begin contacting soon, but I’m also open to volunteers — email bontasaurus [at] yahoo [dot] com. If you have suggestions of people I should contact, I’ll consider those, too, but I don’t have a whole lot of moxie, so I’ll tell you right now I probably won’t approach too many people with whom I haven’t already had some contact through blogging, Facebook, or qarrtsiluni.

Economy, memory and inspiration

Economy issue of qarrtsiluniAsk a chef to name his favorite dish, and he’ll likely say, “Anything I don’t have to prepare myself.” If it’s his own recipe, though: “Wow! This tastes familiar, but it was never this good when I made it!”

That’s kind of been my reaction to reading the print edition of qarrtsiluni’s Economy issue, which I had almost nothing to do with this time, since Beth found an excellent volunteer proofreader, Brittany Larkin, to help her out (thanks, Brittany!). I did have a hand in ordering the contents, since Beth followed the order of the posts in the online issue, which the issue editors, Anna Dickie and Pamela Hart, had left up to me. I was also intimately familiar with the poems, essays, stories and images since I’m the one who sets the posts up for publication, edits the audio, and puts together the podcasts.

Still, it’s been a year since we serialized Economy online, so I was pleased to rediscover some things about the issue that had kind of slipped my mind. I’d forgotten, for example, how many Scottish contributors it had — no surprise since Anna is Scottish herself, but appropriate for the theme since Scots are, rightly or wrongly, associated with thriftiness. In order to keep the print version affordable, the interior images are all black-and-white, but it was still fun to see all six of artist Alec Finlay’s oatcakes in the form of famous lakes and islands gathered on the same page, even if they didn’t look quite as edible as they do in the full-color versions online.

laptop version of qarrtisluni's Economy issueI don’t own a proper laptop, let along a mobile device, e-reader, or tablet computer, so this was my first laptop experience with the issue — the first time I’ve been able to read it on my front porch. I’m in the camp of those who, like my friend John Miedema, believe that reading books is a fundamentally different experience from reading online, though it sounds as if the Kindle and some of the other new e-readers are blurring the distinction quite a bit.

This is actually one of the reasons we’re experimenting with print-on-demand versions of qarrtsiluni issues: we want to encourage deeper, more reflective reading. As publishers, we love making authors’ works accessible to anyone with a good internet connection, but we worry that, by serializing small bits of content on a daily basis, we are simply pandering to the average online reader’s short attention span and need for a regular fix. I do feel, however, that publishers can help mitigate the distracted nature of online reading by providing audio players alongside texts, as we do at qarrtsiluni. In fact, I think this is one of the web’s huge advantages for literary publishing, especially of poetry. So far, I haven’t seen any article on the slow reading movement (of which Miedema is an advocate) and/or review of Nicholas Carr’s new book The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains, make this point — not even the very thorough Christian Science Monitor cover story, “Is tech rewiring our thinking?” (that’s the print title), which I had the privilege of reading in print form this morning, since my parents subscribe and pass it on to me.

But of course audio isn’t an option at too many magazines yet, so perhaps it doesn’t merit mention. The audio podcasting craze peaked around 2006, I think, right before YouTube took off. Now all the tech pundits seem to think that video is the online medium of the future and nothing else is worth talking about — but video is a lot more expensive to produce, and besides, the advent of television didn’t do away with radio, did it? I continue to feel that the combination of text and audio players on the same virtual page is a wonderful thing, even if not every author is the best interpreter of her own work. (Over at Linebreak, a literary magazine I admire, they post audio of a poet other than the author reading each poem, which is a pretty neat approach, too.)

I might not have remembered every nuance of every poem and story in the Economy issue, but to my surprise and amusement I did remember many of the poets’ voices, and heard them in my head as I read through the print edition. Of course, a Scottish accent is pretty memorable for a Yank like me, but I found I remembered the accents of many of the other poets too: Alex Cigale’s precise consonants, Tom Sheehan’s age-mellowed Boston accent, Eileen Tabios’ hilariously seductive reading of “Post-Coital,” Monica Raymond’s world-weary, vatic cadence in the closing piece, “Economies.”

I think the fact that I was still able to conjure these up a year later is a pretty strong testimony to the power of audio to focus attention. The Monitor article mentions Socrates’ dismissal of written language in passing, as a way to call into question the seriousness of these new criticisms of electronic media, treating it as self-evident that Socrates was just a conservative old fart. But Socrates was right, as any number of studies of contemporary oral societies have shown: dependence on writing systems has harmed our memories and fundamentally altered our ability to listen and thereby internalize language. Heard speech is alive in a way that printed words are not, though our ability to record and now digitize it does alter its ephemerality, if not quite its relationship to time. The druids too opposed literacy, for much the same reason as Socrates, but they took a huge gamble in doing so and essentially lost: what we know of them today is largely what was written down by their enemies. And would anyone remember Socrates if not for Plato?

Economy in the gardenJust as there are tradeoffs in transitioning from orality to literacy, so too, I think, are there tradeoffs in making the mental adaptations to a more webby organization of knowledge. I’ve always been prone to associative thinking myself, so it’s no surprise I’ve become addicted to the web. Reading books (and occasionally magazines, such as the Christian Science Monitor’s print weekly) remains a great pleasure, however. This past April, when I read and reviewed a book of poetry a day, I didn’t feel as if I was depriving myself of anything to spend all that reading time away from the computer each day.

Like a lot of people, I’m still trying to find the right balance between online and offline reading, but since I’m also a writer, I have another way to measure the satisfaction I get from different media: not only how much do they stay with me and impact my thinking, but also how well do they inspire me? And I have to say that these days I am just as likely to feel that familiar tickle in the back of the brain that says “poem on the way” after watching a bunch of videopoems or listening to poetry podcasts as I am after reading a print collection. Inspiration is a kind of gestalt experience for me, so perhaps it’s no surprise that I find these novel combinations of printed, digital and oral texts and still and moving images so stimulating.

Phoenicia Publishing is running a brief sale: 10% off all qarrtsiluni print editions through August 5. See the site sidebar for details.

Poetry and technology brain dump at Very Like a Whale

This entry is part 11 of 20 in the series Poetics and technology

In lieu of a Via Negativa post today, I have a guest post at Nic S.’s blog Very Like a Whale — actually a series of ten mini-essays in response to 10 Questions on Poets & Technology. Please go read.

If you have the time, I highly recommend reading the other responses to the interview so far (see the links at the bottom of my piece). I’ve been really impressed by the breadth and depth of replies, and have ended up posting links to almost all of them at Facebook. Clearly, this is a topic I get pretty passionate about, as witnessed by the length of my own response. I started jotting down ideas a month ago, and thought I had it mostly finished yesterday morning, but instead spent another ten hours working on it. I know, I know, it’s just supposed to be an interview…

How to format poetry on the web: an incomplete guide

CONTENTS

Introduction

Web content is written in HTML, which stands for hypertext markup language. Your browser (Internet Explorer, Safari, Firefox, Chrome, etc., including whatever the hell your mobile device uses) parses this to produce the text and images you see. HTML can be styled any number of ways, but a couple widespread conventions are friendly to poetry: paragraphs are almost universally separated by spaces, as stanzas are in poetry, and it’s unusual for the first line of a paragraph to be indented, though special code does exist to do that (more on that later). And poets who like to center their text or present it in fully justified rectangular blocks are in luck: those are things HTML does very easily.

Aside from that, though, HTML is not particularly poetry-friendly, and special measures are required to preserve a lot of the formatting which an earlier technology, the typewriter, made all too easy. Web developers have created some awesome, easy-to-use web publishing tools which are democratizing poetry publication and helping us reach new audiences in an unprecedented manner, but we poets and online magazine editors still struggle to figure out how to post anything more complicated than simple, left-justified stanzas with short lines. I’ve even seen some literary magazines that advise authors not to submit anything that can’t be easily formatted!

One problem is that many poets like to space text across the page in unconventional manners or indent lines in various ways, but HTML will not reproduce more than two consecutive spaces in a row without special coding. If online poets represented a numerically significant proportion of web content creators, there might be a blogging platform or content management system (CMS) just for us, with a poetry-attuned visual editor in which one could add intraline spaces merely by clicking an icon, in the same way one adds italics, links, underlines, etc. But in fact I can’t even find a WordPress plugin that does this, among all the thousands of plugins out there, which is especially galling considering that for its entire history, WordPress has used the slogan, “Code is Poetry.” I call bullshit on the self-styled code poets at WordPress.

A second problem concerns interline spaces, which different blogging and CMS systems approach in different ways. In most visual or WYSIWYG (“what you see is what you get”) editors, a hard return skips a line, so poets have to either compose in the code editor if they want single-spaced text, or paste their text in from a text editor on their computer. (Of course, if it’s a Word document, you have to first copy and paste into a text editor such as Notepad to remove all the extraneous bits of mystery-meat Microsoft code. Never paste directly from Word into the visual editor of a blog, CMS, or other website creation system! If you’re using WordPress, the visual editor includes a tool to paste from Word, which preserves universal code, such as that for italics and bold type, while stripping out all the B.S. code.)

A third and more intractable problem concerns the formatting of lines too long for the content space. Current versions of HTML make no distinction between prose and poetry, so all text wraps in the same way — there’s no out-of-the-box way to indent the continuation of a line as is customary for printed poems. In fact, lines don’t even exist as separate entities in HTML!
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Using Images

One solution favored by some web publishers is to turn difficult-to-format poems into JPEGs or other image files, and publish those instead of text. The problem is that this renders the poem invisible to search engines and to the visually impaired, who use devices called screen readers to access web content. You can get around the problem by putting the text of the poem into the image code using the alt attribution, but this is really only practical for short poems such as those included in haiga or poetry postcards — genres where presentation in image form is of course essential.

“Alt” stands for “alternate text,” the text that appears when the image either isn’t visible or hasn’t loaded yet (still a common situation for many people in rural locations with slow, dial-up connections). It’s not to be confused with the mouseover text, which can be identical but has to be included separately using the title attribute. For optimal usability, include a descriptive term such as “poem” or “poetry postcard” in the alt text. Here’s an example from my “Postcards from a Conquistador” series, for a poem called “Misfit“:

<img src="http://www.vianegativa.us/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/postcard-from-a-conquistador-9.jpg" border="1" alt="Poem: I was the village misfit, the one who refused to stop dreaming. I could be an entrepreneur, they said, accountable only to the crown. Those who brought daggers were given swords. Those who brought nothing were stripped and beaten." />

Since this article is about publishing to the web, I won’t get into other formats that can be shared on the web, such as PDFs and the new ebook/ezine platforms that build upon them. But from time to time I see online poetry magazines sharing all their textual content via images, and I have to wonder why the heck they aren’t just using Issuu or Scribd.
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What About “Invisible” Dots?

Another quick-and-dirty solution to the spacing problem is to hold the spaces with dots (using the period key) or other type elements, then use the visual editor’s font color tool to white them out, rendering them invisible to most readers — except, again, those using screen readers, who presumably hear a lot of “dot dot dot” in such poems and assume the poet is afflicted with a bad case of ellipsisitis. Also, this only really works if your blog or website’s background is white. Sure, you can turn text the same color as any background, but anyone who accesses your content via feed reader or email subscription is going to see it, unless you also specially style the background for each and every page or post you publish, because the default background in probably every feed reader happens to be white. And some content re-publishers strip out such styling in any case — those text excerpts that appear with a link in Facebook, for example. So I think this is kind of a dotty approach.
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The Mighty Pre Tag

A poem by Daniela Elza which we just published as part of qarrtsiluni‘s current New Classics issue, “Andy Warhol (The Vancouver Art Gallery, 2004),” contains a lot of intraline spaces, and Daniela mentioned that her usual advice to editors wondering how to format such a poem is to wrap it in pre tags. I told her we usually take a different approach, but she’s right: that is indeed the quickest and easiest way to preserve intraline and interline spaces in a block of text. In my web research for this article, I found a lot of geeks in various fora offering the same advice to people inquiring about how to format poems.

Pre is short for presentation, and the whole purpose of the tag is to preserve the formatting of whatever text it encloses. The trouble is that in most browsers, presentation tags are displayed using a monospaced font, e.g. Courier or Courier New. But you can add a style definition to make it display in the same font as the rest of your site. In the case of Via Negativa, with the present blog theme, that’s Georgia. Let’s use the first several lines of Daniela’s poem to illustrate. I’ll wrap the text in pre tags as follows:

<pre style="font-family:Georgia,serif;">[text of poem]<pre>

Here’s the result:

"an i.con   turned    around
upside d.own     until      it does not

make sense.
until    symbol is    b.led from

the hammer and the sick.le—
they lie flat    as if the workers were

in a hurry for their lunch break.     and
someone forgot their shoe in the picture."

If you’re comfortable editing CSS (cascading stylesheets, which control site-wide HTML appearance on most modern websites and blogs), you could achieve the same thing by adding a new class, such as:

pre.poem {font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Serif;}

and then calling it up as follows:

<pre class="poem">

The trouble with the CSS approach is that it doesn’t change what people see in their feeds, so the first approach is a little better, if less elegant. But that’s not perfect either, because if everything else is in Arial — as it generally is in a feed reader — and the poem appears in Georgia or Times New Roman, that’s almost as wrong-looking as if you’d just used unmodified pre tags and let the poem appear in Courier. (Evidently RSS feeds can be styled through something called an XSL stylesheet, but I don’t know of any easy tools to help us do that.)

Pre tags can also be used for poems with extra-long lines, to prevent them from wrapping, but the results can be ungainly. Here’s a small section from “An Irish Blessing” by M.V. Montgomery, published in qarrtsiluni‘s Words of Power issue, without any special formatting added:

“May your appetite be hearty and the waistband of your trousers slack. May there be
no household project to ever get the better of you. May you shit out the colon cancer
if it starts to grow back, and then may the doctors go broke trying to find anything else
wrong with you.”

You see the problem? In qarrtsiluni itself, our extra-wide main column and smallish font prevent these lines from wrapping, but not so here. Well, what happens when we apply our pre-tag solution?

"May your appetite be hearty and the waistband of your trousers slack. May there be
no household project to ever get the better of you. May you shit out the colon cancer
if it starts to grow back, and then may the doctors go broke trying to find anything else
wrong with you."

This might not look too bad, but that’s only because this is a lengthy post and we’re already past the bottom of the sidebar. Otherwise, the ends of those lines would disappear under it. Pre tags are not a very elegant solution for formatting poems with long lines.

(UPDATE 6/24/10) However, with CSS you can change the overflow property from the default “visible” to “scroll” for a special “poem” pre class. In layman’s terms, you turn the content area into a box with a scroll bar rather than letting the content spill beyond the confines of the area (which is what “visible” means). Let’s try it! I’ve added this code to Via Negativa’s CSS:

pre.poem {font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Serif; overflow:scroll;}

Now let’s wrap the M.V. Montgomery text in pre tags as shown above, <pre class="poem">[text]<pre>.

"May your appetite be hearty and the waistband of your trousers slack. May there be
no household project to ever get the better of you. May you shit out the colon cancer
if it starts to grow back, and then may the doctors go broke trying to find anything else
wrong with you."

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Non-Breaking Spaces, Span Padding, and Empty Paragraphs

There’s really one canonical way to add extra spaces to a line in HTML, and that’s with the character entity called a non-breaking space, which is written &nbsp;. (It’s called that because it was designed not to format poetry but to keep a two-word combination from breaking in the middle if it happens to appear at the end of a line; inserting a &nbsp; between the two words forces them to be treated as a single unit.) For smaller gaps in poems, strings of non-breaking spaces can certainly work. I believe all modern browsers correctly recognize and reproduce such strings. For example, to format the Daniela Elza excerpt I’ve been using, I’d type something like this:

an i.con &nbsp; &nbsp; turned &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; around
upside d.own &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; until &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; it does not

make sense.
until &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; symbol is &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; b.led from

the hammer and the sick.le—
they lie flat &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; as if the workers were

in a hurry for their lunch break. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; and
someone forgot their shoe in the picture.

Even though copying and pasting strings of non-breaking space entities can make it go relatively quickly, the resulting code is hell to look at and keep track of for poems with really deep indents or large spaces. You have to use a text editor (for Windows users, try Notepad — it’s under Accessories) and expand it to full screen width.

(UPDATE 6/24) Andre Tan left a comment that makes a couple of valuable suggestions:

One tip regarding non-breaking spaces is to format with standard spaces in Word (or your text editor of choice) and “Find and Replace” all ” ” (a single space) with &nbsp; or better yet &#160;. Technically speaking, &nbsp; isn’t valid XML, so they can potentially cause finicky RSS readers to balk or spit out “double-escaped” text (i.e., &amp;nbsp;).

In Notepad, use “Replace” from the Edit drop-down menu to do the find-and-replace action Andre mentions. A huge time-saver! (Why didn’t I think of that?)

His other suggestion makes a point I was totally unaware of. XML is the language in which RSS feeds are written. The code he suggests as an alternative to &nbsp;, &#160;, is simply the alternate, numerical way of writing it. (Many character entities in HTML can be written in two different ways, and I tend to favor the abbreviated name rather than the number simply because it’s easier to remember. Here’s the reference guide I use.)

I think this approach — the insertion of non-breaking spaces — would be the way to go for an automated system such as that WordPress plugin I’m fantasizing about, but unless and until we get that, I’m going to stick with the less ungainly approach I use at qarrtsiluni: using special padding definitions. Here is what I actually posted into the code editor screen for our post of Daniela’s poem:

an i.con <span style="padding-left:15px;">turned</span> <span style="padding-left:20px;">around</span>
upside d.own <span style="padding-left:35px;">until</span> <span style="padding-left:30px;">it does not</span>

make sense.
until <span style="padding-left:30px;">symbol is</span> <span style="padding-left:30px;">b.led from</span>

the hammer and the sick.le&mdash;
they lie flat <span style="padding-left:20px;">as if the workers were</span>

in a hurry for their lunch break.

What I’m doing there is probably pretty self-explanatory. Span tags exist solely to apply styling to a unit of text of any size; it doesn’t otherwise affect the look of it. (If the same styling were included in a p tag, it would indent the whole paragraph, but with span, it only applies the padding at the beginning of the enclosed area.) Using pixels allows pretty fine-grained control, but remember that the spacing will not remain consistent if font and font-size are altered at some point. So by adopting this approach, I’ve pretty much locked us into our current font. But it’s much easier to deal with than strings of &nbsp;s.

(UPDATE 6/30) One could define the spaces with ems instead of pixels, as Adam Chambers points out in a comment. Ems are used for proportional rather than absolute spacing, so they tend to remain much more consistent with changes in font style and size. They are equal to the height of a capital M in a website’s base font (whence the name). See CSS: Units of Measurement.

I mentioned in the introduction that extra interline spaces are relatively easy to code. In Blogger, you don’t have to worry about it because the visual editor will preserve all the hard returns in a row you want to enter, coding them as linebreak tags (<br /> or <br>). In most other web publishing platforms, columns of br tags will be removed, so what you have to use instead are empty paragraphs — or to be more specific, paragraphs that consist of a single non-breaking space. They look like this:

<p>&nbsp;</p>

and you can stack them as high as you want.
(Back to top)

Using CSS to Whip Poetic Lines Into Shape

The only ways I’ve found to make long lines of poetry properly indent on the wrap involve CSS. I’m not saying it can’t be done in HTML, because my coding skills are pretty unexceptional, but I wasn’t able to figure anything out. (If you know of any tricks, please leave a comment!)

This approach takes advantage of the text-indent property, which was added mainly for designers who want traditional paragraphs, but as it says in the tutorial I just linked, negative values are allowed, too. So in your CSS you define special classes for stanzas (or whole poems) and for lines, use padding or margin definitions to indent the stanzas by whatever amount you want wrapping lines to indent, then assign the same amount in a negative value to the lines using text-indent.

This is probably easier to show than to explain. I’ve added the following to the Via Negativa stylesheet:

.stanza {padding-left:30px;}
.line {text-indent:-30px;}

So I type this:

<div class="stanza">
<div class="line">"May your appetite be hearty and the waistband of your trousers slack. May there be</div>
<div class="line">no household project to ever get the better of you. May you shit out the colon cancer</div>
<div class="line">if it starts to grow back, and then may the doctors go broke trying to find anything else</div>
<div class="line">wrong with you." </div>
</div>

And here’s what we get (shrink the width of the window to watch them indent):

“May your appetite be hearty and the waistband of your trousers slack. May there be
no household project to ever get the better of you. May you shit out the colon cancer
if it starts to grow back, and then may the doctors go broke trying to find anything else
wrong with you.”

This isn’t the only possible CSS solution — you could create a special class of unordered lists, for example — but I believe it’s the one that best takes the semantic web into account. But that’s a topic best left for another article.
(Back to top)

UPDATE (8/25/10): I didn’t cover the problem of how to center a block of text on the longest line, which is a useful thing to know how to do in presenting poetry. See Poetry and Verse in the HTML Page for tips. (Thanks to the author for bringing this to our attention in a comment below.)

Sunday blog stroll

Back on May 1, the (London) Times had a feature called “40 bloggers who really count.” If you’d thought the equation of popularity to cultural significance was a uniquely American phenomenon, think again: somehow the authors found room for seven fashion blogs, two Hollywood blogs and two gossip blogs, but not a single science, nature, art, poetry or religion and philosophy blog. They included just one blog apiece in the literature and memoir categories (Maud Newton and dooce, respectively), the latter especially surprising since I believe that the memoir blog is still numerically the most dominant genre.

I flirted with the idea of doing my own, rival list of Top 40 blogs, but started thinking about all the blogs I’d have to exclude from such a short list and thought better of it. Besides, if I’m so opposed to the “Top 40” mentality, why pander to it? Still, if you’re not reading blogs like the Marvelous in nature, Coyote Crossing, The Rain in My Purse, Drawing the Motmot, Clive Hicks-Jenkins’ Artlog, Paula’s House of Toast, Crack Skull Bob, or tasting rhubarb, you don’t know what you’re missing. There’s way more to the blogosphere than politics, celebrities and gossip.

*

I was pleased this morning to see an old blogging friend back at it with a new photoblog, from this shore, which, based on the photos she’s posted so far, promises to offer far more real and intimate glimpses into East Asian Buddhist monasticism than one could ever hope to get as a mere tourist.

“From this shore to the other shore:” a common metaphor for the crossing from samsara to nirvana, delusion to wisdom, in East Asian Buddhism.

The photographs and interviews here are part of an on-going project to both document and express the lives of Buddhist nuns.

Face it, it’s hard to find non-idealized portrayals of monastics even when they’re just boring old Cistercians or Benedictines, without the additional layer of exoticism you get from having them be Zen (Seon) Buddhists. How often do you get a chance to see that world through the eyes of someone who has lived it herself, day in and day out for five years?

Then this afternoon I discovered that Anthropological Notebook is back — another chance to see supposedly exotic people being very human and ordinary. Lye Tuck-Po is a Malaysian anthropologist who has worked extensively with the Batek, a hunter-gatherer forest people of peninsular Malaysia, and is also an accomplished amateur photographer. She took down the original incarnation of her blog last August “due to pressure of work,” but has now started it up again, intending to use it “mainly for posting photography.” One can also follow her work on Flickr.

*

The Smorgasblog on my sidebar is the main way I link to other blogs, but since it’s exclusively text-focused, photoblogs get short shrift. I also tend not to link much to microbloggers, haiku poets, and the like, since that would entail quoting posts or poems in their entirety — a violation of Fair Use under U.S. copyright law. I’d have to email for special permission, and most of the time I’m just too damn lazy. So it is that I almost never link to one of my favorite poetry blogs, Grant Hackett’s Falling Off the Mountain. His one-line poems are simply amazing.
UPDATE: Grant deleted his blog without explanation on June 1, 2010.

*

Speaking of micropoetry, tiny words (also on Twitter) recently began serializing a new issue after a longer-than-expected break. I like this magazine not only for the great content, but also the minimalist design and the fact that it is doing nearly everything right, in my opinion. Most online literary magazines are clusterfucks of poor usability, non-existent SEO, missing or malformed RSS feeds, and a lamentable tendency to try and ape print magazines in every way possible, so it’s refreshing to find one like tiny words whose editor not only has a firm grasp of how the web works, but even seems interested in expanding readership beyond the authors themselves and their immediate friends.

*

I launched a new website myself last week, a blog in the guise of a discussion forum for my videopoetry site Moving Poems. Check it out if you’re at all interested in news and views about the videopoetry/poetry film medium, and email me if you’d like to contribute posts. I explain my thinking and goals for the forum in an overview post.

*

Lest you think that blogs are no longer culturally relevant just because the cool tech kids have moved on to other things, “Surprise: Traditional Blogging Platforms Still Reign Supreme,” a headline in ReadWriteWeb recently announced. Even the bulk of online conversations still take place in blog comment threads, not on Twitter, Facebook and their ilk. Unique, personalized websites with regularly updated content on the front page still rule the web, and that really shouldn’t be a surprise. Would traditional print periodicals be in such trouble otherwise?

The End of the West, by Michael Dickman

The End of the West

The West may end at the Pacific, but frontiers keep opening like needle holes in a junkie’s arm, like the “bright/ plastic” of an artificial intestine, like whales “moving the sea around.”

My grandmother set sail on a small air mattress into the middle of
the pool and fell asleep

Her fingers
dragging the water
(“Marco Polo”)

The paperback book itself literally expands as I read it, for reasons I don’t fully understand: it now has a pronounced bulge an inch from the spine, as if I’d stuffed it with invisible bookmarks, one per page. As if it had somehow gotten pregnant from my reading.

And The End of the West does invite an Old Testament kind of knowing, biblical as it is in its gritty, this-worldly god-talk, its at-times astonishing beauty, and its episodes of inexplicable violence.

Yesterday we put all the kids in the car, doused it with gasoline, and
lit it on fire

Their eyelids
and toe-
nails

That was one day

The snow geese migrating above us in the dark was another
(“Late Meditation”)

Michael Dickman is one half of a pair of young, identical-twin poets with first books out from the revered Copper Canyon Press. I haven’t read Matthew Dickman’s All-American Poem yet, nor have I read the full profile of the twins in the New Yorker, and I usually avoid anything that everyone is talking about as a matter of principle, but I can tell you that The End of the West deserves all the hype it can get. It’s good.

It’s also a very good fit for the Copper Canyon catalog. Again, I mean that literally: in the Fall 2009/Winter 2010 Copper Canyon Reader [PDF], the excerpt from “Late Meditation” sits comfortably across the page from a prose poem by Lisa Olstein, from Lost Alphabet (“I have learned to peer at specimens through a small crack in the center of my fist…”), and transitions quite naturally to a two-page W.S. Merwin spread, including the poem “Still Morning” from The Shadow of Sirius.

It appears now that there is only one
age and it knows
nothing of age

writes Merwin, as if in answer to critics of the youthful Dickmans. My point is that Michael Dickman’s poems excel at the kind of surrealism-tinged revelatory insight in which Copper Canyon seems to specialize. Or as a review in The Believer put it, “Dickman continually unites the accurate (in terms of perception, thought, emotion) with the mysterious, and he does so in a way that feels natural, almost inevitable…”

This morning I killed a fly
and didn’t lie down
next to the body
as we’re supposed to

We’re supposed to

Soon I’m going to wake up
(“We Did Not Make Ourselves”)

At the same time, the working-class, post-industrial urban landscape grounds and balances the revelatory moments. “Wang Wei: Bamboo Grove,” for example, includes late-night dog-walkers

Bending down
to scrape shit off the sidewalk
into little plastic bags

“Some of the Men” begins:

I had to walk around for a long time before I could see anything

The leaves
circling down the street
imitating the insides of seashells
imitating
my fingerprints

I could sense my father
sitting along in his little white Le Car
staring off at the empty parking lot

No radio
No wind
No birds

You’ve probably realized by now that the poem in my previous post, “Bridge to Nowhere,” was a shameless imitation of Michael Dickman. This is the kind of poetry I hope to write when I grow up.

Woodrat Podcast 17: Brent Goodman

Brent Goodman

I called up poet Brent Goodman (website/blog) in the north woods of Wisconsin and got him talking about how he ended up there; whether his day job as a copy writer for a pet supply company affects his creative writing; how blogging helped him put his first book together; his heart attack last year and how that’s effected his life and outlook; how he met his partner; what it’s like living in the boondocks as a gay man; writing poems about television; and what writers inspire him. Poems read: “Directions to My House,” “Armless Iraqi Boy Bears No Grudges for U.S. Bombing,” “The Ground Left Me,” “Man Smashes 29 Televisions at Georgia Walmart,” and “5 Poets Who Changed My Life (Postcards from Intersections).”

Theme music: “Le grand sequoia,” by Innvivo (Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike licence)

Podcast feed | Subscribe in iTunes

The Kingfisher, by Amy Clampitt

The Kingfisher cover
Hi Mom! I got you a poetry book again this year: The Kingfisher by Amy Clampitt, a major contemporary American poet’s first book. I wasn’t really familiar with her work, except by reputation and a few poems in anthologies, until I happened to pick this up at Webster’s the other month, but when I saw it had an epigraph by Gerard Manley Hopkins (“As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame”), I had a strong feeling it might be your kind of book — and mine too. I stood in the bookstore opening it at random, and each time I found myself saying, “Yup, Mom would like this!”

It’s not just the fact that Clampitt’s subjects are often taken from the natural world, but the way she writes about them — a poem about an orchid, for instance, ends with her crouching down to sniff it, just as you would do — and the philosophical ends they serve. I couldn’t help thinking of some of your own favorite themes, in your writing and in dinner-table conversations, when I read a poem about Good Friday that makes room for Serengeti lions and Charles Darwin, another poem that references the myth of Prometheus to critique our addiction to petroleum (and before that, whale oil), and a poem called “The Quarry,” which contains lines like these:

Think back
a little, to what would have been
without this festering of lights at night,
this grid of homesteads, this hardening
lymph of haste foreshortened into highways…

— which made me think of our own local quarry, so often drowning out the bird calls with its grinding and roaring to feed our supposed need for ever new highways.

I was impressed by the notes Clampitt included at the back of her book, so much more helpful than what poets usually include, afraid perhaps that going into too much detail will make readers think their poems can’t stand on their own. It’s a legitimate fear, though: how much commentary is the average reader willing to endure to understand a poem? I do worry quite a bit about the fate of poetry, mine and others’, that assumes a basic familiarity with natural history, astronomy, the Bible, Greek mythology, and other elements of what used to be considered a complete education. Perhaps I need to update my informal guideline for whether or not to include a note to a poem, which has always been: “Would Mom get this without having to look it up?”

Though still in mint condition, the book is aging, I’m afraid. It was printed in 1983, the year I graduated from high school — which believe it or not was 27 freakin’ years ago! — and the spine made an ominous complaining noise at one point when I opened the pages too far, so do be careful. I think you’ll find it a fitting companion for your books by Mary Oliver, Louise Bogan, May Swenson, and all the others I’ve given you for Mother’s Day over the years. It’s not an unbroken tradition — some years I have given you other things, haven’t I? — but you always seem to appreciate getting poetry books, as witnessed by the fact that you almost always read them right away, and of course I enjoy giving them. And if I can say this without getting too maudlin here, it makes me think how goddamn lucky I am to have a mother who not only reads my own stuff, but also reads and enjoys poetry in general. In my years of blogging and getting to know other online writers, I’ve come to realize just how rare that is. Many if not most of my blogging friends say their parents don’t really get what they’re doing, and some even have to use pseudonyms or avoid using their last names just to make sure their parents never find out that they’re blogging.

You and Dad, by contrast, have been my most regular and supportive readers since Day 1, and I can’t thank you enough for that. We’re not a very demonstrative family, so this is as awkward for me to write as it I suppose it is embarrassing for you to read, but I wanted to say it in public because who knows if and when I’ll ever publish that full-length collection of poems that I can dedicate to you guys. Thanks not only for the support but for the conversation, the friendship, and the inspiration of your example. Anyone who’s ever read your work has probably sensed how conscientious you are about getting the facts straight, and I think — I hope — that’s influenced me, especially given how prone we Bonta males are to B.S. and bontification, as you call it. In my new series of bestiary poems, for instance, I’m trying to make sure that no assertion, however imaginative, departs too far from what scientists think they know about the species in question.

What scientists think they know. It occurs to me that even my basic apophatic stance, as reflected in the title of this blog, is partly due to your influence: decades of hearing you marvel at, or sometimes rant about, just how little we know about even our most common fellow denizens of the planet, how much basic taxonomy still needs to be done, to say nothing of studies on behavior, life history, ecological relationships and ecosystem functioning… you’ve made me realize how sadly inappropriate our species name sapiens truly is. But

the sun
underfoot is so dazzling
down there among the sundews,
there is so much light
in the cup that, looking,
you start to fall upward.

There’s a lot we have still to unlearn, Clampitt seems to be saying, and the resulting vertigo can be delightful. I hope you’ll find her language and perspectives, her blending of the erudite and the down-to-earth, as rewarding as I do. Happy Mother’s Day.