Resonance Dark & Light

 Resonance Dark & Light, by Bruce Boston. From Eldritch Press, 2015.  89 pages.

Should we call Bruce Boston the hardest working man in speculative poetry? I don’t know anyone else who has a better claim over a career, and certainly no one who has demonstrated the kind of consistent brilliance that Boston has. His poems are widely published for a very good reason; they resonate with readers. Boston’s latest collection, currently available for preorder at Eldritch Press, even has “resonance” in its title, and ends with a masterful piece entitled “Resonance Redux.”

Resonance Dark & Light contains fifty-two poems. Many of these have been published in poetry magazines around the world, although several are new. Several are also award winning pieces, such as “The Music of the Stars,” which won the 2013 Balticon Poetry Award. Such is the quality of all these pieces, however, that the award winners don’t generally call any special attention to themselves among the other fine works. An exception to this, for me, is “Surreal Shopping List,” which won the SFPA’s 2014 Dwarf Form (under 11 lines) Category. I don’t know that this is my favorite Bruce Boston poem ever, but it’s my favorite right now. It seems so deceptively simple as well, and yet I’ve been trying—without succeeding—for a month now to produce even a semblance of its “coolness.” 

I don’t know that it was Boston’s intent, but I felt like the first poems in this collection were more light-hearted than much of the previous stuff I’ve read from him. The pieces then turned darker, and darker, before lightening up again toward the end. It felt much like the passing of day into night and back to day, or perhaps like the progression of the seasons. The title itself suggests such a passage.

All I really know is that Resonance Dark & Light, tickled me, chilled me, and set me to thinking.  Ranging from the Bradburyesque imagery of “The Music of Skeletons,” and “Chrononaut Inductees,” to the science fiction terrors of “Tasty Horrors,” to the sheer fun of “Not Only Thoats,” to the impossible to categorize pieces like “Surreal Shopping List,” this collection is hard to pigeonhole but impossible not to enjoy.  For more information about Bruce Boston and his work, you can also check out his website. 

And just remember, “not only thoats need the warm dark.”

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Again at Novel Spaces

I'm posting again over at Novel Spaces today (12-11-2010). I've revisited a topic I mentioned here on this blog quite a while ago now. That topic is "resonance" in writing. I hope you can drop by over there for a visit.
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Symbolism versus resonance

How do you feel about the use of symbolism in what you read? What you write? I confess that I’m not a big fan of deliberate and conscious symbolism as it is often used by writers. I’ve read books (Steinbeck anyone?) where the Christian imagery is rather overwhelming, and obvious. I don’t like being hit over the head with a writer’s point. I don’t like having them force my recognition of their philosophy or anti-philosophy. I did not, for example, find Pilgrim’s Progress a compelling read. This is one thing I didn’t care for in Kafka’s The Metamorphosis. I believe that George Lucas made better movies before he became so conscious of the fact that he was writing out Joseph Cambell’s concept of myth. On a lesser note, I tried to watch the new sitcom Cavemen last night but not only was it not funny, but it tried to symbolically connect the modern “caveman” experience to that of African Americans and those of Jewish decent in a way that I found incredibly trivial.

On the other hand, I enjoy discovering symbols and meaning when it is subtle and serves completely the needs of the story. I love how Jack Finney’s Body Snatchers and Robert Heinlein’s The Puppet Masters can be read as indictments of Cold War paranoia. But, first and foremost, these stories stand on their own as stories. The symbolism, the relevance, is gravy.

What Finney did was create a sense of “resonance” in his story rather than using overt symbolism. The power of this approach is that it is all about the “reader” and not the writer. The reader feels the currents passing underneath them. They know something is stirring in the depths, that it’s rising toward them, but it takes a while to figure out what. By the time they figure it out they are already engulfed with the awareness. And seldom will two different readers figure out the same thing. Such stories are very much a “build your own adventure” or at least “build your own meaning” experience.

I may post some more on this topic because it fascinates me. I know I run the risk of insulting folks who like overt symbolism, but such is not my intent. Some excellent works exist where the symbolism is clear. But there are plenty of works that lack overt symbolism but still create a sense of resonance in the reader. I personally prefer the latter. How about you?

Resonance

In the past few years I’ve seen books published featuring Sigmund Freud, Edgar Allan Poe, and H. P. Lovecraft as characters. Laura Joh Rowland, from my writing group, will soon have a novel published with Charlotte Bronte as a character. Why have some authors chosen to use historical individuals as characters in their stories. I think the answer, in part, is “resonance.”

To me, resonance represents the degree to which a name or a term evokes already existing associations in a person’s mind. You may not know many details about Freud, but you recognize the name. It vibrates your consciousness; it carries weight. Consider, you pick up a detective novel by an unknown writer. His detective is named Jonathan Carmichael. Right next to it is another unknown writer’s book, but his detective is Edgar Allen Poe. Knowing nothing else about the writers or books, I suspect you are more likely to plunk down your money for the Poe book than the Carmichael one. Resonance is the reason. You are predisposed to select the Poe book because you already know something about the real Poe and, quite likely, you find him at least mildly interesting. Carmichael, on the other hand, is a void.

Some names have resonance even when used separately from the historical figures who carried them. Consider “Abraham,” or “Jesus.” Or consider the negative resonance of “Adolph.” I don’t think you want to give your hero that name. Whether they want to or not, most readers will be uncomfortable with a hero who carries the first name of Hitler.

Completely fictional names can develop resonance, however. “Conan” has it. Hannibal” has it. The movie Van Helsing tried to capitalize on the resonance that developed for that character after years of books and movies about Dracula and his nemesis.

Resonance occurs for terms as well as names, of course. “Steel” and “bone” have far more resonance than words like “indecisive” or “misguided.” Having a detective named Mike Hammer is more potent than one named Mike Corbin, although this can be overused and often has been in men’s adventure fiction.

Resonance is a writer’s tool just as much as grammar and punctuation. It can be misused, but sometimes it’s the perfect tool for the job.