Osip Mandelstam, the Jewish Soviet poet murdered by Stalin’s government, wrote of the USSR with noir pride: “Poetry is respected only in this country—people kill for it. There’s no place where more people are killed for it.” Having grown up in the Soviet and freshly post-Soviet Ukraine, I knew how true Mandelstam’s words were. In America, much of the poetry I encountered was light, elegant entertainment. The token New Yorker poems went well with their cartoons—and aimed for a similar affect. Amiri Baraka, it occurred to me, came as close to Mandelstam’s dictum as one can get in contemporary America—for a “career” poet, “Somebody Blew Up America” would have been professional suicide.

Jake Marmer
„My Favorite Anti-Semite: How Amiri Baraka inspired me”

2 odpowiedzi na “„My Favorite Anti-Semite””

    1. Lewactwu świeczkę i ogarek muszę, za młodu: nic; do solidaruchów też nie, cieżko jest zrobić Karierę na starość, muszę jakoś na dwie strony…

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