{"id":304,"date":"2012-09-23T01:17:12","date_gmt":"2012-09-23T01:17:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue16\/?page_id=304"},"modified":"2026-05-28T20:42:29","modified_gmt":"2026-05-28T20:42:29","slug":"roundtable","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue16\/roundtable\/","title":{"rendered":"Roundtable"},"content":{"rendered":"<h2>All in his Stride<\/h2>\n<p>(<em>Poet, Amatortisero Ede in conversation with Poet and dramatist, David O\u2019Meara<\/em>)<\/p>\n<p><b>Amatoritsero Ede<\/b>: Welcome to MTLS\u2019 interview series, David. Would you describe yourself as a critic apart from being a poet? I ask because your \u201cDangerous Words: Don Domanski and Metaphor\u201d in the <i>Northern Review of Poetry<\/i> is an incisive analysis of a particular poet\u2019s language use.<\/p>\n<p><b>David O\u2019Meara<\/b>: No, I don\u2019t think I could say I\u2019m a critic. That term should be used for someone who is regularly engaged in publicly describing and judging an art. There have been times when I wrote, and write, critical discussions of someone\u2019s work, but it\u2019s very irregular because I find the whole process time-consuming and agonizing. It\u2019s floated around in the back of my mind for a while to write some kind of critical essay collection at some point, but I also feel processing and forming thoughts on poetry is a lifetime\u2019s work, so I\u2019m in no rush.<\/p>\n<p><b>A.E.:<\/b> In the journal, <i>Lemon Hound<\/i>, Ken Babstock remarks upon how your work is enriched by a wide reading in World Literature. Could you please elaborate on these influences?<\/p>\n<p><b>D.O.:<\/b> I can only guess what Ken may have meant. But I try to read everything I can get my hands on, in English and translation. The voices are there, tones you can lean on if your own instincts fail. You can\u2019t write in an empty hole. In some ways, your poems are a response to all the poems you\u2019ve read. You are in a conversation with every response to others\u2019 experience. Tall order. So it always completely baffles me when a younger poet, a student maybe, claims they don\u2019t read much poetry. If this is the case, they are doomed to repeat the bad poetry they are already writing. No indifference created anything worthwhile. You have to be completely horny and voracious for diction. You have to be a vampire and pervert for metaphor.<\/p>\n<p><b>A.E.: <\/b>The Babstock article was focused specifically on a poem, \u201cField-Crossing\u201d from your first collection, <i>Storm Still<\/i> (1999). You have had two more collections after that and there is a new one that just came out this year. In your own observation in what ways have you grown from the first collection to the newly released, <i>A Pretty Sight<\/i>, published in September 2013.<\/p>\n<p><b>D.O.:<\/b> I\u2019m much harder on the poems. I hoard them more, agonize over them, loathe my failures of imagination more profoundly. I\u2019m more aware, so have to battle my mis-steps with greater urgency. I\u2019m trying. I think I\u2019m getting better at making the craft sound uncrafted. That\u2019s where I want to go. Working through draft after draft to sound like there\u2019s been no drafts, like it just fell on the page. I\u2019ve written a number of poems in strict rhyme, then broke the lines down, changed words so the form is gone. But so the music might haunt the cadence. It\u2019s a lot of work to sound like there\u2019s no work involved.<\/p>\n<p><b>A.E.:<\/b> We had a conversation in 2006 while I still edited Sentinel online poetry journal. I remarked on what you described as the \u201cambulatory\u201d pace and tone in your work; that was specific to <i>The Vicinity<\/i>. Is this evident in <i>A Pretty Sight<\/i>?<\/p>\n<p><b>D.O.:<\/b> It really depends on the poem. The effect you are looking for is controlled by the tone, diction, pace, etc. So it seemed necessary in The Vicinity to have a walking tone, a looseness, a conversational rhythm, due to the subject matter. In the new book, each poem occupies varied rooms of purpose. Sometimes it\u2019s myth-like, sometimes it\u2019s novelesque. Sometimes the lyric follows an idea rather than a narrative. There are some pieces that address people, real or imagined, and the voice has to suit. The way you will talk to your sister utilizes a very different diction and formality than if you were talking to the King of Spain. If you break the decorum, it can be comic. If that\u2019s deliberate, great, but you always have to be aware of the effect of your word choices on the reader.<\/p>\n<p><b>A.E.:<\/b> You have written a play, <i>Disaster<\/i>. What was that experience like compared to the poetic craft? Are we likely to read more dramatic pieces from you?<\/p>\n<p><b>D.O.:<\/b> Writing for theatre is so much more collaborative and social. You actually show unfinished drafts to people, from a few scenes to more completed script. And then the director and actors read through it and question you on consistency of character, the flow of the scenes etc. The actors can actually enter your characters and end up telling you things about them that you didn\u2019t really realize. \u201cWould I really say this? I don\u2019t think I\u2019d get that angry.\u201d Those kinds of things. It\u2019s a frightening and revelatory situation. Writing dialogue can fun, but it takes a dab hand to create situations that don\u2019t overplay the emotion or shifts in consciousness your characters undergo. Writing good theatre is a challenge and I hope to continue to do it, though it scares the hell out of me.<\/p>\n<p><!--nextpage--><\/p>\n<p><b>A.E.:<\/b> Your work so far seems to be an autobiography; by which I mean to say they are poems of the personal. Yet they are much more than that. Could you elaborate on this?<\/p>\n<p><b>D.O.:<\/b> My poems tend to swing between personal subjects and historical ones, I think. Even in Noble Gas, Penny Black, though there are a number of poems about travel and relationships, there are also things like \u201cTales from the Revolution\u201d and \u201cBoswell by the Fire.\u201d And, of course, just because the poem uses an \u201cI\u201d doesn\u2019t always mean that it\u2019s me. I\u2019ve written several first-person poems that appropriate a voice. \u201cPowerboat\u201d for example. But I like the directness of the address. Again, it\u2019s tone. Sometimes a poem works as a third-person narrative. Sometimes the narrative needs to be reduced to pure lyric description to have more effect.<\/p>\n<p><b>A.E.:<\/b> Critique after critique \u2013 like that a 2003 <i>Book Ninja<\/i> discussion of <i>The Vicinity<\/i> betweenPaul Vermeersch, George Murray and Jennifer LoveGrove or George Elliot Clarke and<\/p>\n<p>Alessandro Porco\u2019s reviews of <i>Noble Gas<\/i>, <i>Penny Black<\/i> in MTLS issue #3 and <i>Canadian Notes and Queries<\/i> respectively \u2013 suggests a need for you to go further as a poet. The impression is that you are been held to ever more rigorous standards than your peers. For<\/p>\n<p>example George Murray opines: \u201cI am, holding O\u2019Meara to a higher standard than we might another poet.\u201d Why is this so?<\/p>\n<p><b>D.O.: <\/b>Sheer cruelty, I guess. Delusion and high hopes? No, really, I\u2019d have to go back to those comments and figure that out. I\u2019m hoping it\u2019s just a generous compliment. Maybe I talk a big game and need to be held to account. Or knocked down a size. That said, I am holding their reviewing to a higher standard than I might another reviewer.<\/p>\n<p><b>A.E.:<\/b> Perhaps the measure of your importance in contemporary Canadian poetics is reflected in the fact that you were Canadian judge for the 2012 Griffin poetry prize competition and edited the anthology deriving from that award. What was that experience like for you?<\/p>\n<p><b>D.O.:<\/b> It was three and a half months of very intense reading. It\u2019s roughly 100 days and there were 481 books to read, so 4.8 books a day and that\u2019s if you don\u2019t miss a day. Miss one and it\u2019s 10 books the next day. I would get up at 8 a.m., make coffee and start reading, often until midnight. When I couldn\u2019t think straight, I\u2019d go for a walk or do the dishes. I made delegated piles of \u201cbad,\u201d \u201cgood,\u201d \u201cvery good\u201d and \u201cexceptional.\u201d I tried to get 7 or 8 read a day, because I wanted to go back and reread the really good ones. It\u2019s no way to read poetry but it\u2019s the only way you can do it conscientiously for this. The Griffin process is the best I\u2019ve seen though because when you deliberate with the other judges, you have at least three separate conference calls with a week apart, so you can go back and reread what others have praised, or disliked. There\u2019s time to reconsider and think as you whittle things down. It\u2019s a unique opportunity to see the breadth of poetry produced across the globe for a single year. I\u2019m still rereading the ones I liked, whether they made the shortlist or not.<\/p>\n<p><b>A.E.:<\/b> I know I referred to that work above, but I want reiterate by asking again: in what ways<\/p>\n<p>has A Pretty Sight surpassed your previous efforts?<\/p>\n<p><b>D.O.:<\/b> What I like about this new book is how there is a braid of ideas flowing through the poems, a group of themes, that tie the collection together but in an organic way. With The Vicinity, for example, the theme was cities and urban life, so there was a more stamped-on criteria to fit a poem into the book. Was it about cities? If yes, keep it in. With A Pretty Sight, the poems play off each other in a more subtle, interconnected way. Each poem is a separate room, but part of the same house. Images or metaphors appear and then reappear in a later poem. The same historical figures drift through at certain points, haunting the stanzas and their subject matter. But it was never prescriptive as some kind of strategy or concept. Concept-books are very often dry as dust. It\u2019s way looser than that. I let myself be open to the occurrence, let the resonance happen if it presented itself. I guess I\u2019m trying to say I\u2019m trying to lose control of directing the poem. Accepting a rough-hewn art. But my method is always the same: write a whole bunch of poems and then cut the crappy ones out.<\/p>\n<p><b>A.E.:<\/b> Lastly I\u2019d like to say that despite the critiques of your work which I mention above, there is a deliberateness and self-assured voice in your poetry. I get a feeling that this is a patient poet bent on going his way despite the critic. Comments?<\/p>\n<p><b>D.O.:<\/b> Critics have actually been very generous with me, so I can\u2019t complain and wouldn\u2019t anyway. It\u2019s a tough job. A lot of times when people complain about what critics say of their work, they could probably listen a little; there is probably some truth to it. There are bad critics certainly. It\u2019s pretty easy to spot a critic who is just posturing rather than assessing work fairly. Their poker faces are there, but the tells show over time. They turn a small weakness into a carnival or just keep missing the essence of the work. You have to learn to ignore names and read others. As far as going my way, I have no other choice, do I?<\/p>\n<p><b>A.E.:<\/b> On behalf of MTLS I will like to thank you for taking the time, David. We appreciate<\/p>\n<p>it very much.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>All in his Stride (Poet, Amatortisero Ede in conversation with Poet and dramatist, David O\u2019Meara) Amatoritsero Ede: Welcome to MTLS\u2019 interview series, David. Would you describe yourself as a critic apart from being a poet? I ask because your \u201cDangerous Words: Don Domanski and Metaphor\u201d in the Northern Review of [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":1250,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-304","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue16\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/304","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue16\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue16\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue16\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue16\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=304"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue16\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/304\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1602,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue16\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/304\/revisions\/1602"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue16\/wp-json\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue16\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=304"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}