The author of the laughably bad mouse poem chosen for praise by America magazine now has published a collection of his poetry. The soporific title? An Almost Pure Empty Walking
.Mencius Moldbug at Unqualified Reservations writes the necessary critique. Mencius, too, finds the vacuity of Tolides remarkable. He connects Tolides to Universalism of the Unitarian variety, depicting him as a vehicle for Bobo aspiration like NPR or Starbucks coffee.
He informs us that Tolides has benefited considerably from his teacher, Mary Karr. Ms. Karr generously awarded her own student the first place in the National Poetry Series.
Incest creates poetic abnormalities. Who knew?
Echoing Dr. Frankenstein's rapturous description of the monster he created, Mary Karr endorses her student's poetry:
"Tryfon Tolides has followed the territory set out in his native Greece by C. P. Cavafy and later followed (in geography and sensibility) by Jack Gilbert. But Tolides trades the darkness of those poets for a more illuminated grandeur. Tolides is the shaman of epiphany. He makes for his reader keen and particular moments of revelation seized from his fierce and fleshly occupancy on the planet. In the wide-eyed consolation these poems offer up, the starlight they emit, he conjures Tomas Tranströmer and other poets of profound spiritual power. At a time when the planet is in flames, he gives being human a good name."
It's alive!
1 comment:
It seems to me, that all you have to offer against Tryfon are weak statements. What proof have you that you have studied, picked apart word for word his writing and found it unworthy of praise? Back up what you're saying with examples and explain your position. This man writes with simplistic beauty. The words you read are the documented feelings and remembrances of this man at a specific time. His words are alive. Yours are dead weight.
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