stein_picasso.jpg A bay area poet of the generation before ours and before our parents', Gertrude Stein stood out even in her controversial environment. She was a friend of Picasso (his portrait of her is on the left), and to other artists of the day. And her poetry maintains its value as it endures in its uniqueness. In fact, her poetry dares us to analyze it.

Stein is perhaps most famous for saying things like, "A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose..." By abandoning all boundaries perpetuated by human logic, she shot into the atmosphere of poetry, boldly going where others had only dreamed of going before.

Today in my comparative literature class (which I'm taking because I believe my senior year of college really ought to be fun) we read a couple of her most memorable poems. Bear with me...

A Dog
A little monkey goes like a donkey that means to say that means to say that more sighs last goes. Leave with it. A little monkey goes like a donkey.

What?

Let me preface this last by saying that I'm not a great fan of Stein. As when it comes to art, I prefer that which is easy to understand. A glimpse of a painting should give me the synopsis of a story... when I look closer, longer I should see the details that make the story precious and special and necessary to tell. That's why I love Rockwell. In poetry I feel much the same. I'm not lazy. I'll work for the meaning. But I tend to appreciate the poet who is sure enough of his/her intent to give it to me blank and beautiful. Stein isn't like that. Rather she is so sure of herself that she believes the only truth is completely pure, the initial thoughts.

In the poem above she confuses us all. The lack of grammatical structure, the odd repetition and the unusual comparisons make every reader a skeptic. Go back to the title. That's what I told my class. Picture Gertrude Stein, the eccentric and pioneering lesbian poet of the early and mid twentieth century, sitting on her couch watching her ugly little dog go nuts, chasing himself around the living room. How does one describe anything that an animal does, really? Stein wrote the way her mind translated.

A little monkey goes like a donkey...

that means to say...

that means to say...

that more...

*sighs*

last goes...

Leave with it.

A little monkey goes like a donkey.

If we allow Stein's voice to talk us through the image the way she talked herself through the image, we get at least a glimpse at the truth... and that's way better than just drowning in her apparent insanity. I'm not sure she deserves this much effort, but Stein was ahead of her time. Today I will cut her some slack. Hopefully someday someone will do the same for me.