Without Fluff, But with Pink Fur.
Chelsey Minnis’s latest book, Poemland, which officially came out last week from Seattle’s Wave Books (I used to intern there), enjoyed an auspicious sneak preview at the AWP (Association of Writers & Writing Programs) conference book fair in Chicago this winter.
The book sat in the middle of the table (I volunteered to help man the table), towering above the other books, drawing in its readers—women, and some men, mostly undergraduate or young grad students. They came at it like seagulls going after a raspberry-glazed doughnut:
“Chelsey Minnis!”
“You have the new Chelsey Minnis!“
“Pink! It’s pink! Is that fur?”
“I love her. Oh my god. I so love her.“
“I love love love LOVE her.”
“Oh my… okay, I’m totally getting this one.”
Even for those who didn’t know a thing about this funny and irreverently sincere poet through her previous books Zirconia, Foxina, and Bad Bad (which, by the way, has the best blurb page ever), there was much to draw the eye.
First of all, the book is covered in bright pink fur. Well, it’s a photograph of pink fur. Imagine a giant stack of pretty cotton-candy pink poetry books in a room full of subtle earth tones and tastefully obscured photo covers. The other tables didn’t stand a chance.
The display reminded me, weirdly, of Edna St. Vincent Millay’s “Second Fig”:
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
Millay is probably not the first poet you’d think of when reading Poemland. If I had to quickly describe Poemland's style, I might say Marianne Moore meets Diablo Cody. I was cracking up constantly at lines like these…
p. 16:
If you die everyone tells a sad story about you!
And you must rely upon their originality…
And it is a bore if anyone will dare to admit it…
Do not die or everyone will continue to care only about themselves and not you!
p. 42
I should have hired someone else to write these poems…
If only I had lived during the ’70s I could have smoked at work!
Maybe Millay, the early 20th century bohemian poet-sensation, came to mind because her books elicited similar fan reactions, especially among young readers.
When Millay published a new book, people went crazy for them. Millay was as famous for her affairs and antics as she was for her poetry. But it was her poetry that made boys love her and made girls want to be her.
I have no doubt that at least some of the writers who picked up Poemland at AWP are now trying to write poems like—or to—Chelsey Minnis.
So, I compared the two poets to see if there were any actual similarities in their work. Of course, when you start to compare two writers, you notice even the most trivial things. Like, when I looked for their books at Elliot Bay, I realized that they are on the same shelf. (Aha! Hmmm.)
Both use exclamation marks! a great deal! Minnis is a fan of the ex-ellipses (!...), while Millay often goes for the ex-dash (!--).
Millay, of course, is more traditional (she writes a lot of sonnets), but emphatic honesty and sly romantic gestures are tricks these poets share. Minnis takes up the charge of romanticizing drinking, smoking, and sex that Millay kicked off back in the early ’20s. But the two poets are romanticizing it from different ends—Millay looks to the wildness of the future; Minnis to that of the past.
For example, Millay’s infamous “First Fig”:
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--
It gives a lovely light!
From Poemland:
This is a poem!
You should be able to figure it out alright…
The first theme of it is “old fashioned drinking”…
In a poem…
You have to make a charitable sentiment…
But I like it without any of that fluff…
I like it to be very obscenely old fashioned like an old fashioned stripper…
I have no idea how the elusive Minnis might feel being compared to the fame-seeking young Millay, but she could do worse than following in her footsteps. In 1923, Edna St. Vincent Millay became the second poet to win the Pulitzer Prize.
And she had all those lovers. I mean, fans.
