Today I began a new blog, The Bearded Doctor Sports Blog, that will be devoted to posts about sports. As a result, A New Yorker in Exile will no longer include sports-related content, and the frequency of its posts will diminish, though I will still try to post on one of the blogs on a (nearly) daily basis. This frequency has lessened lately due to some traveling and move-related work I've been doing, but will go back to normal now.
I have decided to split my blogging between two fora because I find myself shying away from writing about sports on A New Yorker in Exile despite a frequent desire to do so. I worry about my audience's lack of interest in sports. My academic colleagues are frequently surprised when they find out that I am a passionate sports fan because they equate sports with the uneducated working class (i.e., they equate all sports fans with stereotypical NASCAR fans). This close-mindedness always annoys me, though it also makes me feel smug that I am not as elitist as they are. Just because an activity is enjoyed by millions does not automatically make it lowbrow, and of course the lowbrow can become highbrow, anyway (e.g., Shakespeare). As a friend of mine who likes pro wrestling says, "Whenever someone says to me, 'You know it's fake, right?', I say 'So what? So is theatre.'"
I believe that sports fandom has a place within intellectual life because it is not just about following the standings and worshipping idols, it is about the deeper issue of belonging to a cross-cultural community, which deserves rigorous contemplation. And, of course, fandom is enhanced by intellectual analysis, as the example of the Society for American Baseball Research (SABR) shows. The New Yorker's frequent sports articles illustrate that fandom and thinking are meant for each other. The Bearded Doctor Sports Blog tries to foster this connection.
Showing posts with label academia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label academia. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Thinking about poetry
I haven't been reading much poetry lately, and I haven't written any in over two years, but lately it's been popping up here and there in my life, as though the universe is telling me to revisit it. For instance, last night I was at a party when someone asked me what I thought of Yusef Komunyakaa. I replied that I think his poetry is only so-so, and immediately a third person responded with a gasp of horror and a verbal rejoinder to my opinion. I haven't been involved in a stimulating poetry-related occurence like this in ages, and it felt really good.
I stopped interacting with poetry (and by poetry I mean written, not oral poetry) because I am frustrated with academic poetry (i.e., poetry stemming from MFA programs, and the university millieu in general, which with rare exceptions is the only kind of poetry being written in the U.S. today). Its level of discourse is so exclusive, the reader must be a part of the academic world (subculture may be a better word here, but I don't even want to give this world the validation that calling it a "subculture" would give it) from which it comes in order to access the poems, which is not how poetry (or literature in general) should be. It should be from the gut, a visceral experience for both writer and reader that only requires an open, critical mind for the possibility of a revelation or sublime episode to be there. Instead, academic poetry too often requires a knowledge of the various philosophies behind it to become profitable to the reader, e.g., L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poetry, which is really literary theory written without paragraphs.
This inherent elitism saddens me because it automatically takes poetry outside of the realm of cultural relevance. That is why I prefer poets like Frank O'Hara, Tim Dlugos, Sherman Alexie, Julia Alvarez, and Amiri Baraka whose poems are rooted in everyday life, but also transcend it, whereas poets like those who publish in "important" magazines such as Poetry seem to be writing about life in some nonexistent head-world.
I stopped interacting with poetry (and by poetry I mean written, not oral poetry) because I am frustrated with academic poetry (i.e., poetry stemming from MFA programs, and the university millieu in general, which with rare exceptions is the only kind of poetry being written in the U.S. today). Its level of discourse is so exclusive, the reader must be a part of the academic world (subculture may be a better word here, but I don't even want to give this world the validation that calling it a "subculture" would give it) from which it comes in order to access the poems, which is not how poetry (or literature in general) should be. It should be from the gut, a visceral experience for both writer and reader that only requires an open, critical mind for the possibility of a revelation or sublime episode to be there. Instead, academic poetry too often requires a knowledge of the various philosophies behind it to become profitable to the reader, e.g., L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poetry, which is really literary theory written without paragraphs.
This inherent elitism saddens me because it automatically takes poetry outside of the realm of cultural relevance. That is why I prefer poets like Frank O'Hara, Tim Dlugos, Sherman Alexie, Julia Alvarez, and Amiri Baraka whose poems are rooted in everyday life, but also transcend it, whereas poets like those who publish in "important" magazines such as Poetry seem to be writing about life in some nonexistent head-world.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Intellectuals' attitudes toward sports
Following up on a point from the Bacon essay I just posted, yesterday (28 February 2008) on his excellent Uni Watch blog (http://www.uniwatchblog.com) Paul Lukas wrote a bit about how his artsy intellectual friends don't understand his obsession with sports. I also share this problem. All of of my intellectual/artist friends, including my wife, who is a sculptor, think following sports is a waste of time, and don't understand why I am so passionate about them, especially baseball, which they view as the most boring sport ever (a puzzling viewpoint, since baseball is widely regarded as the most "intellectual" of the four major North American sports [yes, I still count hockey as a major sport]).
I think this anti-sports attitude (which is not simply a lack of interest, but an active dislike of sports) among intellectuals is simply a form of snobbery. Because the less-educated often like sports, sports are viewed as being somehow "beneath" those of us with advanced degrees. This view may stem from a patriarchal privileging of activities of the mind over activities of the body (though sports are, of course, activities of both).
I think this anti-sports attitude (which is not simply a lack of interest, but an active dislike of sports) among intellectuals is simply a form of snobbery. Because the less-educated often like sports, sports are viewed as being somehow "beneath" those of us with advanced degrees. This view may stem from a patriarchal privileging of activities of the mind over activities of the body (though sports are, of course, activities of both).
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