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matthewkeating's review
5.0
“The Lights,” the latest from poet/novelist Ben Lerner, is a mixture of traditional poetry broken into lines and prose poetry, including several poems that were previously published in Lerner’s collected volume, “No Art,” by Granta (a lovely book itself). I’ll play my cards up front and state that I think Lerner is extraordinarily brilliant and I will read anything he writes.
Lerner has experimented formally with a sort of binary oscillation in two of his past books of poetry, “Angle of Yaw” and “Mean Free Path,” both of which are split into sections with different formal characteristics. The two poles here are prose poems and traditionally line-broken poems, but the divide is less sharp than either of those books, because “The Lights” isn’t split into sections. Interestingly, and perhaps relatedly, “The Lights” is the only one of Lerner’s now four books of poetry that has a “traditional” structure, with a title for every individual poem. (It might be possible to argue that “Angle of Yaw” or “Mean Free Path” are comprised of five or six section-long poems each, the section titles indicating individual poems, but I don’t entirely buy that. I say entirely because one of the ways I was drawn to both of those books is that there is a linguistic and imagistic continuity that seems to shape the long sections into cohesive units; still, there is a further, pointed subdivision in both books, with symbols indicating the starts and ends of individual poems.)
Maybe it’s fitting that there’s no hard line demarcating sections of prose and poetry, because “The Lights” feels at times like an attempt to create continuity between Lerner’s prose and poetry practices; notably, one of the lengthier prose poems, “The Media,” was published in The New Yorker as fiction in April 2020. “The Media” is certainly the most fiction-like of the prose poems included, although it’s notable to me that several of the prose poems experiment with fairly lucid narrative continuity, something that hasn’t been present in Lerner’s prose poems in the past.
Lerner’s style in poetry and prose have always seemed to overlap for me, something especially visible when, in his novels, prose seems to give way to a more poetic mode of expression in moments of emotional intensity, like a kind of ecstatic trance—there’s some of this in all three of his novels, but I think it happens most frequently in “The Topeka School.” Images seem to concatenate or pile up in a way that seems less like the linear and grounded logic of figurative language in prose and more like the associative, impression-based logic of poetry. At times the blur is more intentional, such as the inclusion of excerpts from “The Dark Threw Patches Down Upon Me Also” (one of the longest poems also included in “The Lights”) in Lerner’s second novel, “10:04,” or excerpts from other poems featured in “Leaving the Atocha Station.”
The inflection of Lerner’s gifts of prose and narrative onto poetry haven’t been as noticeable for me in his collections of poetry prior to “The Lights”: I think the attempt at narrative in some of these longer prose poems, and the fact of their length itself (the prose poems in “Angle of Yaw” are quite brief) seems to point toward a prose-colored poetry.
It makes sense that this might be a direction Lerner is heading in, especially because in the past he has mentioned the social tension of being a poet who becomes well-known for his novels. I think it’s admirable and wonderful that he continues to write in both and with such rigor and seriousness. One of the beautiful parts of reading Lerner’s poetry, and the primary way in which that rigor becomes clear to me, is watching his style develop—one gets a sense of lines traced through from beginning to end, especially in the form of recurring motifs or images, but also in broader formal ideas, like fractious, ruthlessly-enjambed style developed primarily in “Mean Free Path” that also occurs here, a style which was also visible in glimpses in “The Lichtenberg Figures” and “Angle of Yaw.” In retrospect, for another example, I think the introduction of the narrative into Lerner’s poems can be traced at least back to “The Dark Threw Patches Down Upon Me Also”; probably further.
I think it’s easy to imagine oneself developing a style or voice and just sticking to it, but I’m not sure that should ever be the goal, or I guess I am sure it shouldn’t be; there’s an exhilaration in watching the development of a brilliant mind like this, and the lack of complacency with one’s art is I think something to strive for.
Lerner has experimented formally with a sort of binary oscillation in two of his past books of poetry, “Angle of Yaw” and “Mean Free Path,” both of which are split into sections with different formal characteristics. The two poles here are prose poems and traditionally line-broken poems, but the divide is less sharp than either of those books, because “The Lights” isn’t split into sections. Interestingly, and perhaps relatedly, “The Lights” is the only one of Lerner’s now four books of poetry that has a “traditional” structure, with a title for every individual poem. (It might be possible to argue that “Angle of Yaw” or “Mean Free Path” are comprised of five or six section-long poems each, the section titles indicating individual poems, but I don’t entirely buy that. I say entirely because one of the ways I was drawn to both of those books is that there is a linguistic and imagistic continuity that seems to shape the long sections into cohesive units; still, there is a further, pointed subdivision in both books, with symbols indicating the starts and ends of individual poems.)
Maybe it’s fitting that there’s no hard line demarcating sections of prose and poetry, because “The Lights” feels at times like an attempt to create continuity between Lerner’s prose and poetry practices; notably, one of the lengthier prose poems, “The Media,” was published in The New Yorker as fiction in April 2020. “The Media” is certainly the most fiction-like of the prose poems included, although it’s notable to me that several of the prose poems experiment with fairly lucid narrative continuity, something that hasn’t been present in Lerner’s prose poems in the past.
Lerner’s style in poetry and prose have always seemed to overlap for me, something especially visible when, in his novels, prose seems to give way to a more poetic mode of expression in moments of emotional intensity, like a kind of ecstatic trance—there’s some of this in all three of his novels, but I think it happens most frequently in “The Topeka School.” Images seem to concatenate or pile up in a way that seems less like the linear and grounded logic of figurative language in prose and more like the associative, impression-based logic of poetry. At times the blur is more intentional, such as the inclusion of excerpts from “The Dark Threw Patches Down Upon Me Also” (one of the longest poems also included in “The Lights”) in Lerner’s second novel, “10:04,” or excerpts from other poems featured in “Leaving the Atocha Station.”
The inflection of Lerner’s gifts of prose and narrative onto poetry haven’t been as noticeable for me in his collections of poetry prior to “The Lights”: I think the attempt at narrative in some of these longer prose poems, and the fact of their length itself (the prose poems in “Angle of Yaw” are quite brief) seems to point toward a prose-colored poetry.
It makes sense that this might be a direction Lerner is heading in, especially because in the past he has mentioned the social tension of being a poet who becomes well-known for his novels. I think it’s admirable and wonderful that he continues to write in both and with such rigor and seriousness. One of the beautiful parts of reading Lerner’s poetry, and the primary way in which that rigor becomes clear to me, is watching his style develop—one gets a sense of lines traced through from beginning to end, especially in the form of recurring motifs or images, but also in broader formal ideas, like fractious, ruthlessly-enjambed style developed primarily in “Mean Free Path” that also occurs here, a style which was also visible in glimpses in “The Lichtenberg Figures” and “Angle of Yaw.” In retrospect, for another example, I think the introduction of the narrative into Lerner’s poems can be traced at least back to “The Dark Threw Patches Down Upon Me Also”; probably further.
I think it’s easy to imagine oneself developing a style or voice and just sticking to it, but I’m not sure that should ever be the goal, or I guess I am sure it shouldn’t be; there’s an exhilaration in watching the development of a brilliant mind like this, and the lack of complacency with one’s art is I think something to strive for.
emquartz15's review
challenging
emotional
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
This book of poetry is perfect for people who prefer longer poems, in a narrative style that pushes the boundaries of language by splicing together memories, images, feelings, and forms. Lerner is amazing at his craft. The way he weaves a specific image through a poem, recalled later to excavate a larger theme, is truly artful. I particularly enjoyed the way he brings his childhood self into this book, like in the second poem titled “The Rose” in the collection.
However, longer poems (especially prose poems) can often lose me, especially in a book like this where really complex ideas and feelings are explored. I wanted to feel included and invested, but sometimes it was a struggle with “The Lights,” especially with how choppy the experimental language/form can sometimes be.
Lerner definitely attempted to balance his philosophical wonderings (and big scholarly vocab) with everyday images and language. Was it successful? I think the answer varies by reader. For me, this book didn’t feel as accessible as it maybe could have, with the amount of abstraction and technical language.
Nonetheless, the urgent yet tender-hearted concept of the book is so beautiful, and there are so many poetic gems inside these pages, moments where my heart and mind gave a collective “wow.” “Contre-Jour” and “No Art” are my favorites. I really enjoyed pondering the role light can play in our lives. Definitely happy I read it overall!
However, longer poems (especially prose poems) can often lose me, especially in a book like this where really complex ideas and feelings are explored. I wanted to feel included and invested, but sometimes it was a struggle with “The Lights,” especially with how choppy the experimental language/form can sometimes be.
Lerner definitely attempted to balance his philosophical wonderings (and big scholarly vocab) with everyday images and language. Was it successful? I think the answer varies by reader. For me, this book didn’t feel as accessible as it maybe could have, with the amount of abstraction and technical language.
Nonetheless, the urgent yet tender-hearted concept of the book is so beautiful, and there are so many poetic gems inside these pages, moments where my heart and mind gave a collective “wow.” “Contre-Jour” and “No Art” are my favorites. I really enjoyed pondering the role light can play in our lives. Definitely happy I read it overall!