“Typically indifferent to current trends, the fire-dry poems of Turner Cassity, through nine collections, seldom vary from their pet concern and target: human nature.”
Poems that
amuse get dismissed as frivolous unless the reader is looking for confirmation of his hobbyhorse du jour and the satire is sufficiently strident.
Poetry is heavy, after all, not
light. The rest is doggerel. So say the earnest-minded. Yet, Cassity is as serious
a poet as I know and at the same time one of the funniest. The sentence quoted
above is how Moore Moran (1931-2011) begins his review of Cassity’s No Second Eden (Swallow Press/Ohio
University Press, 2002) in Prairie
Schooner.
Both Moran
and Cassity were students of Yvor Winters at Stanford in the nineteen-fifties.
Moran’s assessment of Cassity’s work is one of the most insightful I know:
“[H]e does
not deal with transgression for its own sake. Nor out of the reporter’s
compulsion to ‘tell it like it is.’ This is one of our finest poets endeavoring
to gain a foothold on sense in a nonsensical world. And he goes about it by
employing an adaptation of familiar Socratic theory: namely, that truth is
approached most fruitfully by first identifying and eliminating the things that
truth is not.”
Cassity’s
poems invariably deal with human nature and its infinite capacity for
rationalization, but the poet is no scolding schoolmarm. His goal is not to
teach lessons. Take “Crime and Punishment,” devoted to the 1924 Loeb and Leopold murder case, including these couplets:
“The crime
poor Bobby was the victim of
Is in a
sense upon Raskolnikov,
“In that the
inexperienced who read
Believe the
less well-read do not quite bleed.”
Moran writes
in his review of No Second Eden: “The poems teem with the satirical prickle
that has become a Cassity trademark. In the Garden, after all, didn't human
nature (presumably with a choice) blow it big time? Since then, occasions of
man’s behavioral triumphs have been rare bright spots in a dispiriting trend.
Human nature appears to thrive on bad habits, and this is where Mr. Cassity
makes his living.”
Moore concludes
his poem “Just Joking” (The Room Within,
2010) with these lines: “And in these moments, a joke, / Shaggy, cosmic,
learned or foul, / Needs no defense.”
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