n+1 + gawker = lol

Gawker, one of my favorite web sites, has been filling in where the NYT Book Review and the NYRB fail, offering reviews of small literary magazines. Well, of one small literary magazine: the new issue of N+1, the lit journal to end all lit-journals:

"The Intellectual Situation is back, and it's the most generally accessible one to date--that is, it's less about literary culture and more about day-to-day life and technology (in other words, email, cell phones, blogs, and porn). It kind of opens out from those things into a general condemnation of everything on the planet.

. . .

The name of the issue is Decivilizing Process. That's where we're at."

That's how n+1 describe themselves. Like shooting fish in a barrel, it is. But somebody has to step up and do it and nobody can do it better than Gawker:

• 31 JAN 2007 — The New 'n+1'! It's Coming! OMG! Can't ... Breathe ...
• 08 FEB 2007 — Spend Your Un-Valentine's Day with the 'n+1' Crowd. Or, Maybe Not.
• 16 FEB 2007 — Knowing 'n+1' By Its Table of Contents
• 20 FEB 2007 — The First Three Pages Of The New 'n+1'
• 21 FEB 2007 — Reading Letters From Famous People In The New 'n+1'

introducing the book

Norwegians, who knew they could be funny?

I kid. I kid.

They're always such a hoot.

moore smart cats

There are great poems about dogs. I don't mean of the sentimental variety. I'm against sentimental poems about dogs on principle (it is too easy) but I can be willing to make an exception. However the domestic cat is a less common subject for literary inspiration. T.S. Eliot's Old Possums Book of Practical Cats is terrific fun. Sadly, I don't think that is will recover from being Andrew Lloyd Webber-ized, at least not during my lifetime.

Cats have lagged behind their canine domesticated companions lacking in solidity or depth or complexity or nuance or whatever property is needed to carry the burden of being poetic subjects. We have been drawn instead to its wild ancestors -- tigers and panthers. Cats have been more useful as figures -- metaphors, images -- than as objects in and of themselves and I suspect that this has something to do with the nature of cats.

There are two great poems about the domesticated cat: Marianne Moore's "Peter" and the unparalleled section of Christopher Smart's Jubilate Agno, "For I Will Consider My Cat Jeoffry." It is unfair to put them side by side because I don't want to diminish the pleasures of Moore's poem and there is really nothing that compares with Smart.

I would recommend reading them on separate occasions. Also Moore demands more of her reader, at least at first reading the Moore appears more difficult. Smart is more complex than it seems, but it depends on how you want to read it. It is, also, quite frankly, madness. Moore does not give you choice. I find that is part of the pleasure in reading Moore, that she is so exacting.

"Peter" by Marianne Moore

"For I Will Consider My Cat Jeoffry" by Christopher Smart

peter

Peter
Marianne Moore

Strong and slippery, built for the midnight grass-party confronted by four cats,
he sleeps his time away -- the detached first claw on his foreleg which corresponds
to the thumb, retracted to its tip; the small tuft of fronds
or katydid legs above each eye, still numbering the units in each group;
the shadbones regularly set about his mouth, to droop or rise

in unison like the porcupine's quills -- motionless. He lets himself be flat–
tened out by gravity, as it were a piece of seaweed tamed and weakened by
exposure to the sun; compelled when extended, to lie
stationary. Sleep is the result of his delusion that one must do as
well as one can for oneself; sleep -- epitome of what is to

him as to the average person, the end of life. Demonstrate on him how
the lady caught the dangerous southern snake, placing a forked stick on either
side of its innocuous neck; one need not try to stir
him up; his prune shaped head and alligator eyes are not a party to the
joke. Lifted and handled, he may be dangled like an eel or set

up on the forearm like a mouse; his eyes bisected by pupils of a pin's
width, are flickeringly exhibited, then covered up. May be? I should say,
might have been; when he has been got the better of in a
dream -- as in a fight with nature or with cats -- we all know it. Profound sleep is
not with him, a fixed illusion. Springing about with froglike ac–

curacy, emitting jerky cries when taken in the hand, he is himself
again; to sit caged by the rungs of a domestic chair would be unprofit–
able -- human. What is the good of hypocrisy? It
is permissible to choose one's employment, to abandon the wire nail, the
roly-poly, when it shows signs of being no longer a pleas–

ure, to score the adjacent magazine with a double line of strokes. He can
talk, but insolently says nothing. What of it? When one is frank, one's very
presence is a compliment. It is clear that he can see
the virtue of naturalness, that he is one of those who do not regard
the published fact as a surrender. As for the disposition

invariably to affront, an animal with claws wants to have to use
them; that eel-like extension of trunk into tail is not an accident. To
leap, to lengthen out, divide the air -- to purloin, to pursue.
to tell the hen: fly over the fence, go in the wrong way -- in your perturba–
tion -- this is life; to do less would be nothing but dishonesty.

jeoffry

For I Will Consider My Cat Jeoffry
(excerpt from Jubilate Agno)
Christopher Smart

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the forepaws extended.
For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.
For fifthly he washes himself.
For sixthly he rolls upon wash.
For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may not be interrupted upon the beat.
For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.
For ninthly he looks up for his instructions.
For tenthly he goes in quest of food.
For having consider'd God and himself he will consider his neighbour.
For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.
For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.
For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying.
For when his day's work is done his business more properly begins.
For he keeps the Lord's watch in the night against the adversary.
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes.
For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.
For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
For he will not do destruction, if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.
For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he's a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.
For the Lord commanded Moses concerning the cats at the departure of the Children of Israel from Egypt.
For every family had one cat at least in the bag.
For the English Cats are the best in Europe.
For he is the cleanest in the use of his forepaws of any quadruped.
For the dexterity of his defence is an instance of the love of God to him exceedingly.
For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.
For he is tenacious of his point.
For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.
For he is of the Lord's poor and so indeed is he called by benevolence perpetually--Poor Jeoffry! poor Jeoffry! the rat has bit thy throat.
For I bless the name of the Lord Jesus that Jeoffry is better.
For the divine spirit comes about his body to sustain it in complete cat.
For his tongue is exceeding pure so that it has in purity what it wants in music.
For he is docile and can learn certain things.
For he can set up with gravity which is patience upon approbation.
For he can fetch and carry, which is patience in employment.
For he can jump over a stick which is patience upon proof positive.
For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command.
For he can jump from an eminence into his master's bosom.
For he can catch the cork and toss it again.
For he is hated by the hypocrite and miser.
For the former is afraid of detection.
For the latter refuses the charge.
For he camels his back to bear the first notion of business.
For he is good to think on, if a man would express himself neatly.
For he made a great figure in Egypt for his signal services.
For he killed the Ichneumon-rat very pernicious by land.
For his ears are so acute that they sting again.
For from this proceeds the passing quickness of his attention.
For by stroking of him I have found out electricity.
For I perceived God's light about him both wax and fire.
For the Electrical fire is the spiritual substance, which God sends from heaven to sustain the bodies both of man and beast.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For, tho he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.
For his motions upon the face of the earth are more than any other quadruped.
For he can tread to all the measures upon the music.
For he can swim for life.
For he can creep.