Clangings

"Poet Cramer addressed loss in Goodbye to the Orchard (2004), polyvocal sensuality in Dialogue for the Left and Right Hand (1997), elegiac nostalgia in The World Book (1992), and internal contradictions in The Eye That Desires to Look Upward (1987). In his fifth collection, he considers the cognitive disorder called “clanging” via a narrator who associates words through rhyme and wordplay rather than meaningful content. This attempt to represent lyrically a serious psychiatric condition presents peculiar challenges, especially since poets, by their very vocation, use wordplay and rhyme as artistic tools. Cramer complicates his project in a positive way through strict adherence to formal conventions: each page contains five quatrains of multivalent verse. This produces moments of odd disembodiment and strange dislocation, such as when the speaker’s body weeps through his shirt or when he recalls a time the “sky cried into seawater.” In the same vein, Cramer’s artistic liberties allow concrete images to emerge from the potential cacophony: “A blue forehead vine earmarks those people / to other people whose skin is made of marble.” —Booklist “‘Clangings' are specialized modes of speech schizophrenics and manics use to express themselves, and identify themselves, and communicate, so desperately and wittily and forlornly and with such resourceful energy. That's wonderfully registered here. But one gets to feel, reading it, that these diagnostically defined ways of using language are only extreme cases of how we all use language. Steven Cramer handles and contends with and profits from that extremely difficult, intensely compressed, stanzaic form, over and over, inventive all the way, hilarious a lot of the time, and scared, scary, distanced and objective, and very moving. Clangings is a wild ride.” —David Ferry Humane from its aching heart to its flummoxed nether regions, whipsmart, formally acute but unfussy, and entertaining as all hell—Steven Cramer's new book shreds our airwaves with an inventiveness that is rare. Rare, as in once-in-a-lifetime-if-you're-lucky rare. It balances perfectly on the knife-edge of improvisation and necessity. Clangings is magnificent. —David Rivard Steven Cramer’s Clangings is a poetry not of madness, nor even the merely unspeakable, but instead irresistibly musical musings that reveal a command of language only achievable through fierce intelligence and the most piercing wit. A brilliant revision of the clinical term that describes speech that sacrifices sense to sound, here one finds that sound itself—“Two rhymes snagged between rhymes,/ spun puns, all my blinds up in flames./ The voices in noise are getting wise,” as Cramer writes, indelibly—is indeed sense. Poetry is healing here, the astonishing process itself laid out on these pages in all its utterly humane glory. —Rafael Campo, MD Harvard Medical School, author of The Desire to Heal: A Doctor's Education in Empathy, Identity, and Poetry
"Poet Cramer addressed loss in Goodbye to the Orchard (2004), polyvocal sensuality in Dialogue for the Left and Right Hand (1997), elegiac nostalgia in The World Book (1992), and internal contradictions in The Eye That Desires to Look Upward (1987). In his fifth collection, he considers the cognitive disorder called “clanging” via a narrator who associates words through rhyme and wordplay rather than meaningful content. This attempt to represent lyrically a serious psychiatric condition presents peculiar challenges, especially since poets, by their very vocation, use wordplay and rhyme as artistic tools. Cramer complicates his project in a positive way through strict adherence to formal conventions: each page contains five quatrains of multivalent verse. This produces moments of odd disembodiment and strange dislocation, such as when the speaker’s body weeps through his shirt or when he recalls a time the “sky cried into seawater.” In the same vein, Cramer’s artistic liberties allow concrete images to emerge from the potential cacophony: “A blue forehead vine earmarks those people / to other people whose skin is made of marble.” —Booklist “‘Clangings' are specialized modes of speech schizophrenics and manics use to express themselves, and identify themselves, and communicate, so desperately and wittily and forlornly and with such resourceful energy. That's wonderfully registered here. But one gets to feel, reading it, that these diagnostically defined ways of using language are only extreme cases of how we all use language. Steven Cramer handles and contends with and profits from that extremely difficult, intensely compressed, stanzaic form, over and over, inventive all the way, hilarious a lot of the time, and scared, scary, distanced and objective, and very moving. Clangings is a wild ride.” —David Ferry Humane from its aching heart to its flummoxed nether regions, whipsmart, formally acute but unfussy, and entertaining as all hell—Steven Cramer's new book shreds our airwaves with an inventiveness that is rare. Rare, as in once-in-a-lifetime-if-you're-lucky rare. It balances perfectly on the knife-edge of improvisation and necessity. Clangings is magnificent. —David Rivard Steven Cramer’s Clangings is a poetry not of madness, nor even the merely unspeakable, but instead irresistibly musical musings that reveal a command of language only achievable through fierce intelligence and the most piercing wit. A brilliant revision of the clinical term that describes speech that sacrifices sense to sound, here one finds that sound itself—“Two rhymes snagged between rhymes,/ spun puns, all my blinds up in flames./ The voices in noise are getting wise,” as Cramer writes, indelibly—is indeed sense. Poetry is healing here, the astonishing process itself laid out on these pages in all its utterly humane glory. —Rafael Campo, MD Harvard Medical School, author of The Desire to Heal: A Doctor's Education in Empathy, Identity, and Poetry