In Muddy Water: Conversations with Eleven Poets (review)

Robert Budde's In Muddy Water: Conversations with Eleven Poets contributes to the ever-pleasing genre of author interviews, with the distinction that the dialogue here is less formal and the questions less programmatic; these discussions, while plenty illuminating, are just more fun. When I saw that Budde's introduction was structured like an interview, that RB was interrogating RB, I have to admit to wincing briefly. At best this would be corny, at worst self-indulgent. But Budde made the most of playing on the structure, often to humorous effect. He tells himself, 'I began the project, as you know, in 2000,' talks to himself at cross-purposes, gets testy (e.g., 'Whoa, cool your academic jets there pal'), and ends on a sweet and comic note, 'RB: Thanks, Rob. Stay close. / RB: You too.' The introduction is, in short, as unassuming and charming as Rob Budde himself.

I thought I had one quarrel with the introduction (and, indeed, the book), and was glad of it, because no review should be without some quarrel. Asked by Budde how he chose his subjects, Budde answers 'I know them all. There is no claim to a full representation here and there are far more absences or exclusions than presences. Most of the writers have connections to Winnipeg.' Most? Maybe I was imposing clarity on a book that was trying to stay muddy, but as far as I could see all the writers have connections to Winnipeg. There's discussion of Merk's pub, community and university writing activity, the city's particular geography. The moment I thought maybe the book wasn't about Winnipeg after all, when George Amabile held forth on his formidable pedigree, including live encounters with James Merrill, Marianne Moore, Robert Frost, and T.S. Eliot, Budde responded 'Amazing. ... Were there then any writing influences in Winnipeg?' Unless I was missing some implication carried by the title, could it be that Winnipeg is windy and muddy? It seemed to me that the city could be announced more definitively as a raison d'être for the book. Just in case, I thought, as I slipped my review into its envelope, I'll check the web to see how muddy Winnipeg is. Now I know, as all Winnipeggers know, that Winnipeg means 'muddy water' in Cree. I suppose I could still argue that the title is too much of an inside joke, but like all outsiders who finally catch on and slip inside, I'm not complaining.

Topics of conversation here are wonderfully diverse and unpredictable. Having said that, there are a few recurrent touchstones, allowing for their substantive investigation. The notion of writing community, for example, arises frequently, the interactions and mutual inspirations of local networks are teased out. The role of theory is something many of these writers touch upon, suggesting the generative relationships between theory and poetics. In Muddy Water also gives us something not always apparent in author interviews, engaged attention to the nuts and bolts of composition: metaphor, syntax, punctuation, and what borders on a preoccupation in this book, the line break. The line break, with all its mechanics and magic, is a perennial mystery to writers and I for one can't get enough of it.

What I like most about the book is the way it conveys the individual personality of each writer. Often a collection like this bears the overwhelming stamp of the interviewer rather than offering a memorably eclectic gathering. Although Budde definitely holds his own as a knowledgeable and astute reader of their works, authors are given free rein to communicate themselves. Méira Cook is characteristically erudite, George Amabile can talk for five pages uninterrupted, and I don't know if Todd Bruce himself is responsible for the glass-knocking, but twice his comments are interrupted by stage directions: '[sound of beer spilling]' and '[the distinct sound of beer sloshing everywhere].' Difficult as it is to choose a favourite, the conversation among Budde, Dawne McCance, and Robert Kroetsch is...