Prose poetry in The dance at mociu by Peter Riley and Nhu Huy’s poems

3 HNUE JOURNAL OF SCIENCE Social Sciences, 2020, Volume 64, Issue 4D, pp. 3-9 This paper is available online at PROSE POETRY IN THE DANCE AT MOCIU BY PETER RILEY AND NHU HUY’S POEMS Dinh Minh Hang Faculty of Philology, Hanoi National University of Education Abstract. The changes of ideology and culture in a consumer society contributed to the evolution of Experimental poetry into an abundant type of interactive art more than conventional poetry itself. This change widened the gap between creation and reception, and re-evaluated the position of the poet and his recipient. Whereas poets played the role of giving ‘specific directions for performance’ [1, 5], readers had their independent interpretations. This writing then provides an overview of prose poetry in case of The Dance at Mociu by Peter Riley as specific Experimental variations. This article also examines Nhu Huy’s poems as an example case of Vietnamese prose poetry. Keywords: Modern literature theories, Prose poetry, Peter Riley, Nhu Huy. 1. Introduction Peter Riley is an English poet. In order to support “distinction in poetry”, as an editor and essayist, he also writes about other contemporary Western poets and their innovations in poetry. On one hand, Riley’ collections have been examined mostly in “prose poetry” and “landscape poems”. On the other hand, what Riley invented with images and lyrics were regarded as something beyond poetic genre. In Excavations (1995–2004), Will Bordell argued that “Riley combines different registers and voices to recuperate lyric as a moment rather than a genre” [2]. Owen Bullock also mentioned the un-expectation of poetry effects: “At the same time, readers and poets may talk about the form in quite different ways, and the writing itself is not dependent on the name ‘prose poetry” [3]. Moreover, “voices, historic and imagined, contained in landscape”, according to Lucy English were considered as multiple responds to prose poetry, with or without “sentimentality about the past” [4]. The condition of self “subsumed into the landscape” [5] was mentioned by Riley in his writing of Thomas A. Clark. However, works of Riley have not been studied in Vietnam. Thus, reading Peter Riley and The Dance at Mociu, in my view, helped to answer the question of how prose poetry could be read from a Vietnamese perspective, and how it might help to enhance the writing of prose poetry in Vietnam. Unlike many other Western poets, Riley is a contemporary poet who has not been much concerned with national wars and poetic revolutions. That might mean that, if Vietnamese poets read Riley’s poems, they will not focus on ‘revolution’, ‘new methodology’, ‘ideology’ or ‘critical views’ in the way that they have been forced to concentrate on poetry written from a Vietnamese perspective. Thus, prose poetry could be introduced in Vietnam in an aesthetic rather than a social way. Moreover, through my own reading of The Dance at Mociu, what Riley wrote about was very familiar to Vietnamese rural traditions, which may Received April 11, 2020. Revised April 24, 2020. Accepted May 15, 2020. Contact Dinh Minh Hang, e-mail address: hangdm@hnue.edu.vn Dinh Minh Hang 4 bring his prose poetry (which I call a prose life of poetic Transylvania) closer to Vietnamese modern poets. 2. Content 2.1. Prose poetry Prose poetry was not simply the connection of prose and verse, in which prose played a role as the form and verse was considered to be the content. All efforts at collaging or extending free verse by using long sentences or unexpected punctuation would turn such poetry into the realm of visual arts. To create a balance, the prose aspect showed specific features, one of which was instant narration. This not only retained the spontaneous nature but also participated in making images. The narration distinguished prose poetry from normal prose because of the avoidance of preceding details and order, which was similar to the mechanism of Imagist poetry, while the ‘direct treatment of ‘thing’ whether subjective or objective’ [6, 15] was featured as the first criterion. As such, the improvisation in prose was effective in creating unpredictable images, promoting automatic writing and linking of discrete space and time in an installation art of words. Clearly, breaking the sustainable narrative structure of prose did not mean that prose was assimilated into other kinds of Experimental poetry. It seemed to be impossible to require prose poetry to include refined metaphors or hidden layers of meaning beyond instantaneous nouns. The lull between words which used to be the privilege of poetry in compressing meaning and evoking imagination was now intended to be filled by the adjectivalisation of narration. This, together with effective cadence, would keep on capturing moments in images, which lengthened the poems to an endless symphony of words and expressed metaphor in a simple, naked and natural way. Sometimes, overlapping lines of thought represented liberal non-ordering. Therefore, prose poetry could be described as ‘poetry lacking rhyme, meter, or stanza form – as, for instance, painted tableaux, or musical compositions’ [7, 11]. Prose poetry, in fact, was not a case of ambiguity between prose and verse. It could expand the poetic repertoire, release the unpredictable form, reconstruct the discourse of poetry and resolve the conflict between perspectives and narration in prose; above all, however, it presumably should not lose the intrinsic lyricism and cadence which encloses the soul of poetry. Riley, in conversation with Keith Tuma, suggested the direct way for readers to approach his poems when he said: ‘You don't take an interest in that kind of music but it reaches you whether you like it or not, and you're stuck with it’ [8]. 2.2. The Dance at Mociu - a story written in poetic vibration The Dance at Mociu was a story written in poetic vibration. The aim might have been to refuse to recognise any poverty or retardation in the less modernised ways of Transylvania, and correspondingly the people here were mentioned despite the fact that they spent their life in the field and did not care about things happening beyond their home village. Thus, these people, including a gypsy family, the man playing a wooden musical instrument for money, a poor couple, the girl at a bar at Breb, people working in cultivation strips, the uncle named Uchi and the new widow in the churchyard, were embodiments of an Old European spirit which had mostly been hidden or had vanished in the modern treadmill. With unhurried rhythm, each prose poem made daily souls osmotic and drew them in, rolling them step-by-step into a participatory role: ‘If you climb () you find’, ‘If you turn round (..) you are’, ‘If you see it’, ‘If you know’, ‘If you don’t know’ (‘The Brancusi Monuments at Tirgu Jiu’). Conditional clauses were used to guide the stream of thought in front of the natural beauty of Tirgu Jiu. Nevertheless, what remained in the end was nothing, because Prose poetry in The Dance at Mociu by Peter Riley and Nhu Huy’s poems 5 it was impossible to get any specific answers to the reason, source or definition of the attractions here. This could be seen in negative sentences such as ‘but you don’t see it’, ‘can’t see’, or rhetorical questions, for instance, ‘where are we, and how does this place exist?’ (‘Arnota’). Those appeared while the viewer was in the depths of the living quiet of the seventeenth century Romanesque church: There is no sign whatsoever of a second inhabitant. It is quite warm in the late afternoon, the quarry sounds are distant, an even wind moves across the compound, stirring slightly the outside trees [9, 18]. Riley created conflicts between movement and stillness, outside and inside, present and past. It was the music of dark and quiet nature. Last but not least, many questions were raised, both to find the answers and to open the imagination: And what about the night, and what about the depths of winter? Who or what comes to this site then? () – alone? Is that right? - one church one guardian one cow? () Who are the visitors then? [9, 19] Just appearing in the visitor’s mind, those questions did not change or help to explain anything; on the contrary, they were like sounds falling into an enormous silence and failing to evoke any echo, which made the place become mysterious and unexplainable. This could lead to the idea that readers were envisioned as gently tiptoeing on the filaments of silence and imposing past with curiousness as well as fear of waking it up. The imagined candle that the reader might have held gradually only lighted his or her steps, not every corner of the church. Therefore, the poem ended like its poetic opening. With regard to ‘the literary genre with an oxymoron for a name’, as M. Rifaterre referred to it when talking about Paris Spleen, The Dance at Mociu could be seen as having the stature of an oxymoron from a noun at a minor level to the whole collection at a higher one. The book mentions gaps between richness and poverty, between strangers from faraway lands and villagers of whom most have never been outside their own area. However, those boundaries, like the distinction between prose and poetry, come from conventions that are never stable or common in any case. People could be poor, some of them even the poorest in this rural area and they may, or actually did, go begging as a job, but Riley never mentions them as beggars. He silently observes the unresponsive look of the poor woman at the closed post office when she comes and hopes for some money from the State (‘The Poor Couple’); or the two little boys who ask for breakfast and enjoy it so joyfully that ‘The day was now before them. It shone on them’ (‘Breakfast at Sibiu’); or the gypsy family who are considered as neighbours. These are depicted with an objective but affectionate attitude. It could be said that even if poverty is implied here, it is only as a symbol of purity and innocence, as though these human beings are in need of things, but not dependent on them. They shine through what they are living with. For example, in the dance at Mociu, visitors pay money after the performance but it is not for music because ‘music is free’; likewise, the clarinet man is not given anything but it does not affect his sound. Sometimes the unplanned popularity (which could be seen as the main reason for poverty) is expressed in a reverie: And to the young kids who were told this it was a far more mysterious and wonderful thing than any baby, a strange big white bird floating in the blue-black starry sky of a printed book holding a cloth bundle in its nest. And here they are, in person as it were, standing in big woody nests on posts and roofs, bending their necks and peering down at you. And clacking their beaks, for it is the mating season. There are children everywhere [9, 30]. Here the poet seems to blur the image of the railway as a dangerous crossing in life with the idea of having currently forgotten poverty and any other issues of modern life that might be imposed on this area to make them miserable. The only thing finally left is the beauty of Dinh Minh Hang 6 childhood and fairy tales that, incredibly, appear before our eyes. ‘There are children everywhere’; life still continues as it was born to be, forever and ever. Those who belong to the purest status are those that have never awaked any concern from the villagers, unlike the visitors. This poetic characteristic keeps Mociu as an apt example of the Old Europe, which used to be quite vague and difficult to identify. Above all, the prose poems from The Dance at Mociu could be considered as a river of words, a stream of thought, flowing smoothly while holding the village and wooden houses. In my view, Riley wanted to end this story of wild beauty and friendly people by using lots of complex sentence structure and descriptive nouns, and by letting his mind turn to directions that he could not have aimed at before: The young people went away, leaving their parents to work the fields. Became migrant workers, drivers of long-distance lorries, with the same patience, the same carved gateway into hope, gable-end elegance, a radiance of graceful gestures cut through necessity. (‘Kalotaszeg’) [9, 113]. Furthermore, music plays a vital role in smoothing the prose and transforming it into poetry. The power of music seems to be discovered in both significant and lyrical layers. The music is described in terms of instruments and sounds themselves, as well as by the feelings of lyricism in the texture of the words and sentences. Examples of the former include the ‘strange musical noise’ from the clarinet of a small man in ‘The Taragot on the bridge at Tirgu Lapus’; an uncle with the appearance of having derived from Popic’s musical business in ‘Unchi’; the bar at Breb; the loudness of the stream in ‘The oldest house in Budesti’; the guitar and drum sound at the wedding; the circle dance on stage in an ‘Event at Desesti’; and the most boisterous music of the dance at Mociu. Although Peter Riley did not focus on describing any specific sound, Kelvin Corcoran enhanced the music of Maramures, which was alive and embedded in the shared lives of the villagers. It is, suggestively, an element in lives which are not lived separately, and draws the common experience into a different significance [9, 7]. The writer himself, however, paid far more attention to the environment of the music, the interactions between musicians and audiences, villagers and visitors, from which the sounds are truly and emotionally transferred. For example, the beauty of the music that the small man on the bridge at Tirgu Lapus brings to life is not evaluated by the indifferent attitude of the audience or any payment that he might receive after the performance (actually there was nothing given). It is considered in terms of the beauty of a precious, rare moment that appeared to community. It is described as ‘woody, breath-laden reed sound’ and a ‘melodic line’ [9, 18], which is evidence of the fragile nature of beauty. All the details of this story are told in neutral language, but the regular tone itself is enough to create a slow and gloomy melody. However, the latter held advantages in terms of maintaining the poetic characteristics of Peter Riley’s prose. Here he did not need to write directly about music. The lyric itself was fulfilled in each sentence. For instance, the description of the monk in Arnota as ‘old and slightly bent, and wearing a black felt cap and a brown gown (). He moves slowly to the gate and stops near a small pile of logs’ [9, 19] is one of the first images captured in the journey. This character would not reappear throughout the whole book; he just slides through the silence and darkness of this area and is easily dissolved in rhythmic meditation in the following rhetorical questions: And what about the night, and what about the depths of winter? Who or what comes to this site then? In snow and blizzard and darkness, the tree threshing in the wind or standing frozen, living in the wall with a three-month store of fuel and food, alone, a candle under a Prose poetry in The Dance at Mociu by Peter Riley and Nhu Huy’s poems 7 crucifix in a wooden room in a stone wall – alone? Is that right? – one church one guardian one cow? [9, 19]. Each question is an echo of nature resonating in the empty spaces of Arnota, which is opened in three dimensions: height, width and depth. The sound of the blizzard and threshing wind are placed in opposition to highlight the overwhelming silence. Similarly, the flickering light of a candle in the wooden room is used to show the absolute domination of darkness. The meditation is made to seem endless by continuous actions such as ‘threshing’, ‘living’, and after that ‘standing’, ‘reading’ and ‘saying’. It may be supposed that this melodic chain only reaches the end with the word ‘alone’, which could be considered as a bass note in this high vocal musical score. The alliterations ‘what about’, ‘in the’, ‘in a’, ‘alone’ and ‘one’, with the hyphens as temporary silence and the repetitions of rhyme turn this paragraph into a lyrical poem. Thus, music is absorbed into ‘The Dance at Mociu’ naturally. The writer seems to have made no effort to create metaphors or arrange verses in order to make rhythm. He simply uses grafted sentences, subordinate clauses and widened imaginative associations: The column, if you see it or if you know, over there beyond the buildings the other side of the railway, is a sign of ultimate belonging, the cross of “here” reaching into the sky. If you don’t know, or can’t see, you are left with the town [9, 21]. In conclusion, in terms of form, ‘The Dance at Mociu’ is prose full of narration. However, through the arts of rhythm and lyric, it satisfies the conditions of poetry. The integration of prose and poetry, in this case, reaches the highest aim, as Peter Riley stated: I'm interested in prose as a support to poetry, a ground to it and a guarantor. Indeed my notion of the originary function of poetry is as a song interlude in a narrative, as in the Scandinavian epics, or an interlude of ecstasis and consolidation in a narrative called living [8]. 2.3. Prose poetry in Vietnam In Vietnam, the consciousness of prose poetry was considered separately, as poetry in the form of prose. This one-way interaction invisibly elevated the basic criterion of poetry but neglected the contribution of prose. Therefore, it was not very difficult to decide whether it was a prose poem or not by trying to rearrange it into traditional verses and deleting spaces and interruptions between images and words. Apart from the revolution in form, poetic features seemed to be inviolable in Vietnamese poets’ mind, while the power of prose itself would take an equal position in revising language and releasing ‘untapped creative potential through experimentation’ [7, 198]. The requirements of eliminating sequential description, diversifying perspectives, abstracting reality and enhancing imagination were posted as urgent in Vietnamese prose poetry. However, there were some Vietnamese pioneering cases who were trying to explore some characteristics of prose and apply them to poetry; they were also attempting to turn specific criteria of poetry into prose form, especially cadence, in order to discover whether poetry could be released from its traditional periodicity by refreshing its lyricism. Như Huy was among these cases. He did not start his poems by organizing their structure and verses. Instead, he used words as the origin. Instead of discrete entities, he turned them into dual and collaged extraneous nouns. For example, in the poem named ‘Một-bài-thơ-đi-qua-khung-cửa’ [10] (a- poem-passing-by-door-frame), there are six syllables in the name but together they show just one word. Those syllables exist harmoniously. Therefore, the poem had turned into a ‘broken word’ or ‘sound’, and this process would not end until it had no relation to a visible entity. From that point, what could be remembered about it was that it was a polyhedron or unshaped thing. As a result, the poem came back to its origin, before it was made straightforward by readers’ Dinh Minh Hang 8 experiences. To Như Huy’s conception, each poem had its own life; there was beginning and ending as well as birth and destruction in it. However, it never led to the death of a word before experimenting wit