Euterpe, the muse of music and lyric poetry, was born sometime before the first millennium B.C. One of the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, she was at one time quite active in the literary scene, but now lives reclusively in a gated complex near Mount Parnassus. A highly-placed agent arranged this rare interview at a local Dunn Bros. Wearing sunglasses, cargo pants and a Gap handbag, the muse appeared pallid, if still youthful. She drank her coffee sullenly, as though recovering from a hangover.
Joel Van Valin: You seem to rarely visit poets these days. Why the cold shoulder?
Euterpe: Oh come on, isn't that obvious? It's a credibility issue, isn't it? I mean, even if I gave [Seamus] Heaney or [Adrienne] Rich a great line, an immortal line, something to kill for, would they recognize me? Would they sacrifice as much as a fattened calf to me?
JVV: They probably wouldn't...
Eut: Right, and another thing. There's all this false modesty crap in poetry. Like, if you say something dramatic you're showing off. Okay, so Shelley and his gang overdid it a little. Does that mean you have to write poems about carrying sofas? I told Calli [the muse Calliope] if I read one more Billy Collins poem in a "conversational" tone, she could have the lot. Let her dote on them the way she does her novelists.
JVV: Isn't your sister Calliope the muse of epic poetry?
Eut: She's branched out. I mean hey, who writes epic poetry anymore? Except for Derek Walcott, and he's just another Homer knock-off. God, you should have seen Calli gush over Homer, and he was a blind drunk. She was never the same after that relationship.
JVV: Speaking of relationships-how do you get on with your father these days?
Eut: Not bad, actually. I nip into Olympus quite often in fact, mostly to perform with Apollo, and I drink some mead with the old thunderer if he's in a good mood. Growing up was hard though. I mean, being the child of an illicit affair and all.
JVV: And Dionysus?
Eut: We had us some crazy revels, back in the day! We'd go together to visit Li Po in the moonlight, it was a scream. Now that he's in AA he's a bit of a stick in the mud though...
JVV: Who was your favorite poet to inspire?
Eut: Sappho, for sure. The chick was crazy, but she wrote like a goddess. Pity those early Christians jerks burned her work. Then there was Pindar, but he was too much of a jock, kept writing about Olympic athletes. Some of the Romans, like Virgil, were nice to work with. Then there was this medieval French curate, Ronsard, that I hung out with a lot. And Byron, of course. Yeah he was my boy!
JVV: Any American poets?
Eut: I don't mean to be a snob, dear, but America is like, the least poetic country ever. Office cubicles, Wal-Mart, country music-need I say more? New York used to be okay. I'd swing in to the Village and say hi to [Edna St. Vincent] Millay and [Elinor] Wylie and those kids. Then trip up north of Boston and throw Frost a bone or two. But in those days I mostly held court with Willie [Yeats] in his tower.
JVV: What about Ginsberg?
Eut: That was the drugs, dear. Look, I need a coffee refill here. Where's the waiter?
JVV: Um, they don't have ... hold on. [After returning with coffee.] Okay, so on to the next question. The last fifty years have seen the disappearance of the poetry audience, except for academics and other poets. To what do you attribute this decline?
Eut: It's the poets, stupid.
JVV: Not television?
Eut: Have you ever tried to read John Ashbery?
JVV: Good point. So you're saying you are pretty much in retirement for now?
Eut: Oh not at all. I spend most of my time in the so-called `third world', where people still believe that words can be divine. My favorite poet right now is this traveling bard in Borneo... I do go slumming around here, though, now and then. Mostly with the kids. Some of them are flipping brilliant. But then it always ends badly.
JVV: How so?
Eut: Oh, well, they fall in love or something and get bored with poetry. Or they get ambitious and do an MFA program, and that ruins them. They start writing like everyone else, think all they need is a bit of craft and some intellectual cleverness.
JVV: How should they write poetry then?
Eut: One doesn't write poetry, of course. One is struck by it. That's the title of my book, by the way, Struck by the Muse.
JVV: Wait... you have a book? Where can I get it?
Eut: [A bit uncomfortable] Well to tell the truth, it isn't exactly accepted for publication yet...
JVV: So you're saying that you, one of the nine Greek muses, can't find a publisher?
Eut: Believe me, darling, I've looked into it. No one in New York will cut me a deal. [Imitating a snotty publishing executive] `We're sorry, Miss Euterpe, but our marketing models indicate poetry is not a saleable product at this time.' I mean, Effendi [Frank Nelson Doubleday] must be rolling in his grave!
JVV: Maybe you could quote some lines from the book.
Eut: [Demure] Oh no, I couldn't. Well, all right. [Recites dramatically]
I loved thee Athis, once long ago
When I was clean and brave
But we'll go no more a-roving-
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
It's a little under-said and over-sung
When I have crost the bar
To justify the ways of god to man:
We love the things we love for what they are.
And I could not love thee dear so much
And I could not see to see
Did I not know the dancer from the dance
And the difference, to me.
JVV: Um, those are all lines from other poets. Tennyson, Milton, Lovelace-
Eut: Yeah, well who do you think gave them the lines? Don't accuse me of plagiarism, you, you... journalist!
[At this point the interviewer was literally struck by the muse, or rather her handbag, and the conversation came to an abrupt close.]
© 2008 by Joel Van Valin.