Wendy Cope’s most recent poetry collection is fetchingly titled Anecdotal Evidence (Faber & Faber, 2018). The phrase refers to uncorroborated claims rooted in personal observation. A lawyer may object and the judge sustain but you and I rely on anecdotal evidence every day. Few of us are chemists or mathematicians, and even they aren’t scientifically rigorous at the bowling alley. Our beliefs and values, what we think, what we know, and what we think we know are cobbled together from direct observation, prejudice and sheer fantasy. Among sophisticates, “data” has replaced knowledge, and there’s still something around called social “science.” Meanwhile, what is most human about us cannot be quantified.
Cope takes her title from
the first poem in her book, “Evidence,” which begins with a quote attributed to
a “scientific researcher”: “A great deal of anecdotal evidence suggests that we
respond positively to birdsong.” Careers have been built on saying such fatuous
things. Keats knew better. Here is Cope’s poem:
“Centuries of English
verse
Suggest the selfsame
thing:
A negative response is
rare
When birds are heard to
sing.
“What’s the use of
poetry?
You ask. Well, here’s a
start:
It’s anecdotal evidence
About the human heart.”
Whether we’re reading Dante, Yeats or Wendy Cope, poetry amounts to a report on who we are and why we do what we do. In his foreword to In Defense of Reason (1947), Yvor Winters defines a poem as “a statement in words about a human experience” -- in other words, anecdotal evidence. When we’re gone, what remains of us? Anecdotal evidence.
I LOVE an anecdote.
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