Rest in poetry, Edward Field

Today's New York Times reports the passing of poet Edward Field at the age of 102.

I'm embarrassed to admit that I'd never heard of Mr. Field, something reading his obituary quickly made me regret. So I reached out to our friend Philip Clark to ask whether he knew him, and Philip has kindly authorized me to share his response to the news with you all here:

"Gosh, Steve, I'm so sorry to hear this, and thanks for letting me know. I knew Ed, superficially: I asked him to submit poetry and published a piece of his in The William and Mary Review when I was its poetry editor as an undergraduate. I also did a small feature on him in Velvet Mafia later on, and we exchanged a few e-mails over the years about this and that. He gave a wonderful reading years ago at Westbeth, the artists' building in NYC where he lived, at the time with his longtime partner and collaborator Neil Derrick. I mean, everyone knew how old he was, so this isn't unexpected, but at times, it seemed like Ed would outlive everyone.

"I lost track of him a couple of years ago, and he didn't reply to my last e-mail (inquiring about something related to either the writer Alfred Chester or poet Ralph Pomeroy, if I recall correctly), but he was vibrant and productive until then. His last book that I'm aware of--Voyage to Destruction: The Moroccan Letters of Alfred Chester--which he edited, and which is another fascinating contribution—was published in 2022, and when I contacted him about it, he was still feisty.

"His poetry is very accessible, so he'd be a good choice for infrequent poetry readers. Frequent pop culture references; he's credited as one of the first, if not the first, to do this. Take a look at his poem "Mae West," for example, which must be online somewhere and is my favorite of his. If his memoir, The Man Who Would Marry Susan Sontag (which isn't him—that's a reference to Chester), is in print, it would also be a great choice."

And here, in Mr. Field's honor, is that poem (first published in the July 15, 1974, issue of The New Yorker):

Mae West

She comes on drenched in a perfume called Self Satisfaction

from feather boa to silver pumps.

She does not need to be loved by you

though she’ll give you credit for good taste.

Just because you say you love her

she’s not throwing herself at your feet in gratitude.



Every other star reveals how worthless she feels

by crying when the hero says he loves her,

or how unhoped-for the approval is

when the audience applauds her big number —

but Mae West takes it as her due.

She knows she’s good.



She expects the best for herself

And knows she’s worth what she costs,

and she costs plenty.

She’s not giving anything away.



She enjoys her admirers, fat daddy or muscleman,

and doesn’t confuse vanity and sex,

though she never turns down pleasure,

lapping it up.



Above all she enjoys her Self,

swinging her body that says, Me me me me.

Why not have a good time?

As long as you amuse me, go on,

I like you slobbering over my hand, big boy.

I have a right to.



Most convincing, we know all this

not by her preaching it

but by her presence — it’s no act.

Every word and look and movement

spells independence:

She likes being herself.



And we who don’t

can only look on, astonished.



Octavio Roca, who also noted the news, drew my attention to this passage in the NYT obituary:

"Then, in the mid-1950s, Mr. Field met the poet Frank O’Hara. Their brief love affair altered the course of Mr. Field’s life and work. 'Frank O’Hara showed me the way,' Mr. Field wrote for outhistory.org. Mr. O’Hara’s ability to write easily and unselfconsciously as a gay man gave Mr. Field the courage to follow his instincts and loosen up with his own writing. The result was a breakthrough in his poetry."

Based on all that, I'm inclined to nominate something by Field for our 2027 reading list. Both Amazon and Alibris sell used copies of several of Field's books, so I've ordered a couple of them to check out his work for myself. Stay tuned!

Additional reading re: Albee & Chabon

All modesty aside (LOL), I believe we maintain a high standard for all our literary discussions. But last night's session, on Edward Albee's play "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?," felt particularly lively, and worthy of the source.

In that connection, Mike Mazza recommends Michael Y. Bennett's book about the play, which is part of Routledge Publishing's Fourth Wall series, which it bills as "short, accessible accounts of some of modern theater’s best loved works."

Then, looking ahead to our October and November discussions of Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, Mike brought in an authorized comic based on the novel, Michael Chabon Presents. . .The Amazing Adventures of the Escapist, Volume 1. As the blurb explains:

"Leaping onto center stage from the wings of comics history comes that dazzling Master of Elusion, foe of tyranny, and champion of liberation: the Escapist. Operating from a secret headquarters under the boards of the Empire Theater, the Escapist and his crack team of associates roam the globe performing amazing feats of magic and coming to the aid of all those who languish in the chains of oppression. The history of the Escapist's creators Joe Kavalier and Sam Clay was recently chronicled in Michael Chabon's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. Now the best of the Escapist's adventures are collected into one volume for all to enjoy."

A double play

With rare exceptions (such as a new translation of a foreign-language work), the rule we've followed with BookMen selections throughout our history is that any edition of the book is fine. The main purpose of that policy is to spare members the trouble and expense of acquiring a second copy of a book, but it also has a secondary benefit. Sometimes a different edition contains an introduction or other scholarly apparatus that resolves a question about the book that isn't addressed in the edition most of us are using.

That said, the edition of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I selected from Amazon.com for tomorrow night's discussion is different from the original: Edward Albee's own 2006 revision of his 1962 play. (Take a moment, by the way, to consider how remarkable it is that the play has remained popular enough to be revived repeatedly, and that the playwright lived long enough to revisit an early work.) So I thought it would be useful to post some additional info about that, courtesy of Wikipedia.

"The play was revived on Broadway at the Longacre Theatre, opening on 12 March 2005, in previews and closing on 4 September 2005, after 8 previews and 177 performances. Directed by Anthony Page, it starred Kathleen Turner as Martha and Bill Irwin as George, with Mireille Enos as Honey and David Harbour as Nick. Irwin won the 2005 Tony Award for Best Performance by a Leading Actor in a Play for his role. The production transferred to London's West End at the Apollo Theatre with the entire original cast, running from 31 January to 13 May 2006. In January 2007, the production played at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC, for one month. On 6 February 2007, the production began a six-week run at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles.

"Notably, it was this 2005 production that led to the publication of a revised script – one that has been used ever since – although many of its revisions were introduced in earlier productions. Among the revisions was the removal of early references to George and Martha's son, as well as the reference to the fact that George felt that he helped cause his parents' death, which was originally the subject of his failed novel. A roughly seven-page scene with George and Honey at the end of Act II has also been removed completely. These and other changes seem to be there to clarify plot points, but arguably rob the play of some of its ambiguity and tenuous relationship with realism."

And here's one more tidbit about the play from the same Wikipedia entry: "In 1970, Henry Fonda and Richard Burton attempted to recruit Warren Beatty and Jon Voight for an all-male production, but Albee refused permission." I would love to hear more about that!

Some Albee appetizers...

Next Wednesday, Sept. 2, we'll be discussing Edward Albee's play, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. In preparation for that, Mike Mazza has compiled several short TV parodies of the play he found on YouTube:

Second City Television

Saturday Night Live

Benny Hill

Mike wonders where there are even more like these online, and says: "I suppose folks could view these either as appetizers (with possible spoiler warnings) before reading the play, or as palate cleansers post-reading!".

A Queerty quiz

Queerty, an LGBTQ website that bills itself as "Free of an agenda (except that gay one)," recently published an article asking: "How many of these classic queer books have you actually read?"

Our group has discussed a very respectable six out of 10, and I've read two others. See how you score!

As a bonus, here's a link to another Queerty article on gay literature, "Gay guys share their favorite books by queer men." Many of these will be familiar, but there are some intriguing suggestions in the mix.

Classic LGBTQ literature

Our friend Bruce Dunne recently shared the following info with me:

"I just came across a list of 21 LGBTQ+ books in the section of the New York Review of Books website where one can look up books by theme. It surprises me how few I am familiar with (other than J.R. Ackerly and Jan Morris), and it occurred to me that some may be of interest to the group. Cheers, Bruce."

Our merry band has read both Ackerly titles in the compilation--We Think the World of You (in 2015) and My Father and Myself (in 2013)--as well as John Horne Burns' The Gallery (in 2015) and a different book by Jean Genet than the one recommended here. As the time for our annual process of nominating books for next year's reading list approaches (stay tuned for details!), I invite you to take a look at this list to see whether any of these titles intrigue you enough to propose them.

Encouragement, not clutter

Writing for The Conversation, a site dedicated to "analysis from scientists and medical doctors," Michelle Spear, an anatomy professor at the University of Bristol, explains "Why you keep buying books you don't read--and why it feels so good."

"Some might call this clutter," she acknowledges. But "the Japanese have a far more elegant word for it: tsundoku. The term describes the habit of acquiring books and allowing them to accumulate unread. It combines the idea of stacking things up (tsunde), leaving something for later (oku) and reading (doku). The result is a concept that captures the quiet optimism of a pile of books."

Prof. Spear elaborates on the phenomenon in her essay, and after reading it, I feel a lot better as a proud practitioner of tsundoku than a mere hoarder. Hopefully, you will, too.