
This weekend I had to read one of the most confusing books I have encountered: My Life, by Lyn Hejinian. Not only did I have to read it, I had to understand it well enough to present it to my class. Understanding it was impossible at first glance because Hejinian seems to repeat herself and made me go in circles. When I got really frustrated with the book, I turned to Google to figure out what was going on.
It turns out, Hejinian is part of a movement called “language poetry.” A big part of language poetry is that the author’s presence is removed from the text. This means that what we get out of the writing is almost entirely up to us. She wrote what she wanted to, but there is no deeper meaning that the whole audience is supposed to magically “get.” Instead, each audience member will get what they want out of the piece and relate it to their life as they see fit. How versatile!
It was difficult to read this book because I try to figure out the meaning of most of what I read. Once I was able to shake that feeling, the book became much more enjoyable. Instead of searching for meaning, I let the meaning come when I would read a certain sentence or paragraph that had relevance to my life.
Skip to about 1:45 to see what you get out of Hejinian's writing here.
Looking beyond the interesting stories Baudelaire tells, the reason this book impacted my life is the style that the chapters are in. Each chapter is three pages or shorter, with most of them being about a page in length. There is no linear connection between each chapter; each one seems to tell its own story, and all are potentially interchangeable with one another. Clearly Baudelaire did not haphazardly place the pieces of the book together. He laid each part next to each other with intention and precision. On first read, I did not think much about the way the book was written, but if you keep in mind that Baudelaire had a plan, there are many more layers to the story and one can analyze the book further and further.