Another Opportunity

Reading about the death of poet John Ashbery in the on-line version of The Guardian was an awkward reminder of the fact that I have never been able to understand why he is so highly rated. Awkward because lots of accomplished and sensible readers of poetry tell the world he is good - so I don't have much doubt he is, otherwise why the enthusiasm? - but I'm just not up to grasping why this is so. At the simplest level I'm so far short of understanding his stuff that it's embarrassing. Normally my not entirely 'getting' something doesn't put me off a writer too much, but in this case I just feel clueless.

Now I can easily let this go, and for years have done so. After all there's so much wonderful stuff out there by writers I do 'get' that it's odd to be so bothered by this deficit. But I don't think the botheration comes from a sense of missing out on something. Rather it relates to a feeling that I'm somehow being less than fair to a major talent in not making an effort. And also a sense that there could be great rewards in making some kind of breakthrough.

I'm reminded of my initial encounters with certain kinds of music, or composers, that once seemed impenetrable. Even in the case of my beloved Messiaen I remember struggling, but somehow trusting that if the experts said this was the real thing it would eventually reveal itself as being so. It helps that there's always been an element of the pretentious about me: you need that to soldier on with stuff that fails to reward even the fourth time round.

Fortunately a bit of help is at hand with regards to the work of Mr Ashbery. The Guardian runs a neat feature called Poem of the Week in which writer Carol Rumens gives an analysis of the chosen poem and there's a pretty good one of the late poet's Breezeway which has led me some little way if not to an understanding of the piece in question at least to being able to grasp why someone might choose it as their poem of the week. It's a start, I suppose.