Scan barcode
dan1066's review
4.0
I parade in the air
And wait for the New Year
That then will, then will disappear.
I am trying not to care.
I am not able not to.
Kill Poem
I cannot remember the last time I laughed out loud while reading a book of poetry. It’s Seidel’s sarcasm and wit, his artistry in deflating pomposity and arrogance by adopting pomposity and arrogance. The problem with Ooga-Booga is Seidel is unable to maintain the tenuous balance between humor and tragedy over the course of the collection.
Seidel’s debonair narrator is focused on skewering the world around him, and the world around 2006 was in dire need of explaining and skewering. Seidel stands up, has someone hold his Haut-Brion, and quietly articulates the hypocrisy of those entrenched in power and the world: He’s buying fancy clothes, fancy Italian motorcycles, but don’t be fooled. The narrator winding through these verses is slick and difficult to pin down:
Here I am, looking around the room
At everyone getting old except the young,
Discovering that I am lacking in vanity,
Not that I care, being debonair,
Delighted by an impairment of feeling
That keeps everything away.
The Death of the Shah
If we return to the opening poem of the collection, which I quoted from at the start of this commentary, the narrator states he can’t help but care even when he desires the ability to not care.
The challenge with Ooga-Booga is that the narrator does not provide emotional touchstones to guide us through his commentary and imagery. At multiple moments, I asked myself: “Is this guy serious? Despite the offense which rears its head every few poems, I don’t believe the poet wallows in filth just to disgust the reader. Perhaps, the only response to tragedy is sarcasm, humor, and a thick hide. Seidel is an amazing poet, exasperating at times, but well worth the time.
And wait for the New Year
That then will, then will disappear.
I am trying not to care.
I am not able not to.
Kill Poem
I cannot remember the last time I laughed out loud while reading a book of poetry. It’s Seidel’s sarcasm and wit, his artistry in deflating pomposity and arrogance by adopting pomposity and arrogance. The problem with Ooga-Booga is Seidel is unable to maintain the tenuous balance between humor and tragedy over the course of the collection.
Seidel’s debonair narrator is focused on skewering the world around him, and the world around 2006 was in dire need of explaining and skewering. Seidel stands up, has someone hold his Haut-Brion, and quietly articulates the hypocrisy of those entrenched in power and the world: He’s buying fancy clothes, fancy Italian motorcycles, but don’t be fooled. The narrator winding through these verses is slick and difficult to pin down:
Here I am, looking around the room
At everyone getting old except the young,
Discovering that I am lacking in vanity,
Not that I care, being debonair,
Delighted by an impairment of feeling
That keeps everything away.
The Death of the Shah
If we return to the opening poem of the collection, which I quoted from at the start of this commentary, the narrator states he can’t help but care even when he desires the ability to not care.
The challenge with Ooga-Booga is that the narrator does not provide emotional touchstones to guide us through his commentary and imagery. At multiple moments, I asked myself: “Is this guy serious? Despite the offense which rears its head every few poems, I don’t believe the poet wallows in filth just to disgust the reader. Perhaps, the only response to tragedy is sarcasm, humor, and a thick hide. Seidel is an amazing poet, exasperating at times, but well worth the time.
More...