|Santa Barbara Library|
The first one was boring because it was all about the poet (confessional they used to call it) and inasmuch as I wasn’t as in love with the poet as they obviously are with themselves, and every little detail of her frankly not that exciting of a life, I lost interest quickly.
The second book was a pissed off poet, apparently the sort of person who waits grumpily hoping somebody will do something they find offensive so they can then go off in the most tendentious and sour fashion about how the culture is shit, and people are stupid, and everything sucks. Same culture that’s been paying their salary for years for sitting in endowed chairs at the universities, same culture that underwrites the publication of their books, same culture that they accept invitations from to be on its television shows and podcasts, etc. etc. Go fuck yourselves.