Don Paterson
Author of Landing Light
About the Author
Don Paterson teaches at the University of St. Andrews.
Image credit: The Queen's Hall
Works by Don Paterson
The Zoo of the New: A Book of Exceptional Poems from Sappho to Paul Muldoon (2017) — Editor — 40 copies, 1 review
Associated Works
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Birthdate
- 1963
- Gender
- male
- Nationality
- Scotland, UK
- Occupations
- poet
musician - Organizations
- University of St Andrews
- Awards and honors
- Order of the British Empire (Officer, 2008)
Eric Gregory Award (1990)
Scottish Arts Council Creative Scotland Award (2002)
Members
Reviews
40 Sonnets by Don Paterson
Wow. I'm just not sure how I feel about this one. Well, okay, I love it. And also I have significant issues with it. What, that doesn't clear things up?
Paterson is a Scottish poet and academic in his 50s (yes, that actually is relevant to my discussion here), and is the latest in a long line of commentators on Shakespeare's sonnets. His edition posits itself to be far less stuffy than most of the crucial texts on these poems (and the publishers have jumped on board that notion, as evidenced by the promotion around it, and the book's cover itself) yet at the same time, Paterson is able to bring an equally academic but far more fascinating viewpoint - that of an actual, working poet, rather than the solely intellectual pursuits of many well-known Bardolaters.
I'm going to get most of the negative points out of the way first, lest the review end with a sour taste when I aiming mostly for the sweet. While Paterson's aims are noble, in practice they're at times self-defeating. Yes, he makes references to Kanye West and British soaps, to social media and comparable 21st-century slang, all of which help to illuminate his points. At the same time, it's blatantly clear that this book isn't intended purely for the common reader - and possibly not at all. Sure, the publishers would like to sell as many copies as possible, but this is still an academic text, even if it's done away with many of the trimmings. Fair enough, I don't expect the author to dumb down his knowledge, but when you're casually slipping in terms like "hyperbaton" and other rhetoric tropes, things become a little inside-baseball. Given my own association with the academic field, I don't know what it would actually be like for a layperson to read this book, but I suspect they'd come away from several paragraphs dazed and confused.
What these commentaries read as, more often than not, are lectures or tutorial pieces aimed at tertiary-level poetry and philosophy students. I suspect Paterson would be a brilliant teacher, since he has a keen eye and a beguiling way of relating to people as he explains key concepts. At the same time, he's a man with a vast repository of knowledge, and it becomes clear that this is not quite the "Sonnets for a Common Man" the cover suggests. (I should stress, I have no problem with this volume being academic; it just seems like a jarring disconnect from how it is portrayed on the tin.) If you're approaching this book with little-to-no understanding of Elizabethan poetry and rhetoric, you'll still get a lot of enjoyment out of it, but I'd advise you to be prepared to do some of the groundwork and research yourself.
Now, of course, I realise this is a churlish argument. It's not as if academic poets are being offered five-book deals these days. I value the many key insights this book has passed on to me (see below) and I'm not at all disappointed that Paterson was given this assignment. I just wonder whether this is the publisher getting one over us, or Paterson's initial pitch cheekily getting one over his publisher?
There are occasionally some typographical errors (at least in the edition I purchased), and sometimes Paterson's forays into pop culture references come across as transcribed speech - to the point where if you don't get the reference (which, as a non-Brit much younger than the author, I often did not), the entire paragraph becomes unreadable. Still, as the author points out himself, them's the perils of being contemporary in your work. As he discusses the other lofty tomes on which all Shakespearean commentators must stand, it becomes clear that this is a man who has truly thought about the text he's discussing. None of the big names - Booth, Kerrigan, Duncan-Jones - get off lightly with their transgressions, but they're all clearly idolised for their contributions. Paterson isn't seeking to be a definitive text on the sonnets, but he sure is a useful addition to the great conversation.
The other hesitation I'll save for below. Let's discuss some of the best parts of this book. Well, as I mentioned, Paterson's knowledge is immense. He's funny, rarely pretentious, keen-eyed and innovative with how he resolves cruces (I can't think of any time that I found his allegations completely ridiculous - which is really saying something in this particular sub-genre of scholarship!). The book is also laid out very well, with each sonnet printed alongside its commentary, and key lines repeated where need be. The book eschews a standardised layout, allowing Paterson to analyse one sonnet on a line-by-line basis, the next in relation to previous commentaries, and the next in one paraphrase. Rather than feeling constrained by a formula, he is able to present us with varied insights that build up to being a very useful primer on how the sonnets play into the time they were written, how they have been received in the centuries since, and - most importantly - how understanding the actual process of creating poetry can help us to conclusions that may have been missed by the purebred intellectuals.
Which is really the key point of this book, truth be told. At times, I was frustrated when Paterson only glossed two lines of a given sonnet in depth. But that isn't what this book aims to be. What the author brings to Shakespeare's sonnets is a practicality sadly missing from much commentary. Where other scholars see a deliberately-laid puzzle, Paterson sees a poet trying to put words in the most beautiful order. Where scholars see a compositor's error during printing, Paterson sees a poet simply facing a deadline. Where some see brilliance, he will sometimes call their bluff by deconstructing the poem's composition. It's occasionally iconoclastic, and sometimes willfully pragmatic (and, of course, undoubtedly sometimes wrong), but more often than not I find myself believing him. (For instance, I've spent the last decade being somewhat doubtful about the numerological approaches to the sonnets - Helen Vendler is clearly nuts, but even Duncan-Jones may have just been a scholar fixated on a theory. However, as Paterson outlines his case, there's a construction worker's logic that I almost can't fault. Now, that's impressive.)
I do have one last little quibble, and that is the rather cute conceit that the book was written almost without editing. Paterson chose to read the sonnets whenever he could find the time, in the way that most people would read them, and document his thoughts as he goes. This is admirable, certainly, and fits in with the increasingly blog-like approach to non-fiction books these days; it also helps separate his work from the weightier tomes gathering dust on so many library bookshelves. Yet, it's ultimately distressing: when the author explains he won't investigate a line further because it's "after midnight", or because he's in a bad mood, well that just seems like poor criticism. It's not a dealbreaker, but there were a handful of moments when I was absolutely dismayed by Paterson's relaxed approach; I realise it's his authorial persona and not his true opinion, but nevertheless it does not bode well for the future of popular scholarship. Of course, there's an inverse argument to be made here - what Paterson does over the course of analysing these 154 poems is to, in effect, teach us how to read a poem. Not "read" it in the sense that we can all enjoy Sonnet #18 for being beautiful, or Sonnet #29 for expressing something mundane in a beautiful way. But in the sense that we actually analyse how a poem is put together, searching for the best way of doing it, and tearing down some of our basic assumptions that have led generations of Westerners to appreciate the "gloopy" sonnets (as Paterson calls them) often at the expense of the intelligent and tangled ones.
Still, why am I being so negative? This is a lovely book. Anyone seriously interested in the collection needs to check out the other works Paterson cites (well, maybe not the Vendler), and use your initiative! Yet, this is a worthy starting-point, and certainly a useful addition for those of us more seasoned in the subject matter. Paterson encourages us to see the sonnets as not just museum pieces for "close study" but as the works of a poet engaging in the world. I'm not a poet, although I do write fiction, but this was undoubtedly the book's greatest legacy. It doesn't just teach you how Shakespeare wrote, it sharpens the reader's critical faculties overall. What may look like good poetry might simply be pleasing poetry, Paterson argues - and until we can make that distinction, our ability to engage with the wider artistic world is weakened. (How much of my time writing this review was spent worrying about how my tenors matched my vehicles? So much of it. You'll understand what I mean if you read the book.)… (more)
Paterson is a Scottish poet and academic in his 50s (yes, that actually is relevant to my discussion here), and is the latest in a long line of commentators on Shakespeare's sonnets. His edition posits itself to be far less stuffy than most of the crucial texts on these poems (and the publishers have jumped on board that notion, as evidenced by the promotion around it, and the book's cover itself) yet at the same time, Paterson is able to bring an equally academic but far more fascinating viewpoint - that of an actual, working poet, rather than the solely intellectual pursuits of many well-known Bardolaters.
I'm going to get most of the negative points out of the way first, lest the review end with a sour taste when I aiming mostly for the sweet. While Paterson's aims are noble, in practice they're at times self-defeating. Yes, he makes references to Kanye West and British soaps, to social media and comparable 21st-century slang, all of which help to illuminate his points. At the same time, it's blatantly clear that this book isn't intended purely for the common reader - and possibly not at all. Sure, the publishers would like to sell as many copies as possible, but this is still an academic text, even if it's done away with many of the trimmings. Fair enough, I don't expect the author to dumb down his knowledge, but when you're casually slipping in terms like "hyperbaton" and other rhetoric tropes, things become a little inside-baseball. Given my own association with the academic field, I don't know what it would actually be like for a layperson to read this book, but I suspect they'd come away from several paragraphs dazed and confused.
What these commentaries read as, more often than not, are lectures or tutorial pieces aimed at tertiary-level poetry and philosophy students. I suspect Paterson would be a brilliant teacher, since he has a keen eye and a beguiling way of relating to people as he explains key concepts. At the same time, he's a man with a vast repository of knowledge, and it becomes clear that this is not quite the "Sonnets for a Common Man" the cover suggests. (I should stress, I have no problem with this volume being academic; it just seems like a jarring disconnect from how it is portrayed on the tin.) If you're approaching this book with little-to-no understanding of Elizabethan poetry and rhetoric, you'll still get a lot of enjoyment out of it, but I'd advise you to be prepared to do some of the groundwork and research yourself.
Now, of course, I realise this is a churlish argument. It's not as if academic poets are being offered five-book deals these days. I value the many key insights this book has passed on to me (see below) and I'm not at all disappointed that Paterson was given this assignment. I just wonder whether this is the publisher getting one over us, or Paterson's initial pitch cheekily getting one over his publisher?
There are occasionally some typographical errors (at least in the edition I purchased), and sometimes Paterson's forays into pop culture references come across as transcribed speech - to the point where if you don't get the reference (which, as a non-Brit much younger than the author, I often did not), the entire paragraph becomes unreadable. Still, as the author points out himself, them's the perils of being contemporary in your work. As he discusses the other lofty tomes on which all Shakespearean commentators must stand, it becomes clear that this is a man who has truly thought about the text he's discussing. None of the big names - Booth, Kerrigan, Duncan-Jones - get off lightly with their transgressions, but they're all clearly idolised for their contributions. Paterson isn't seeking to be a definitive text on the sonnets, but he sure is a useful addition to the great conversation.
The other hesitation I'll save for below. Let's discuss some of the best parts of this book. Well, as I mentioned, Paterson's knowledge is immense. He's funny, rarely pretentious, keen-eyed and innovative with how he resolves cruces (I can't think of any time that I found his allegations completely ridiculous - which is really saying something in this particular sub-genre of scholarship!). The book is also laid out very well, with each sonnet printed alongside its commentary, and key lines repeated where need be. The book eschews a standardised layout, allowing Paterson to analyse one sonnet on a line-by-line basis, the next in relation to previous commentaries, and the next in one paraphrase. Rather than feeling constrained by a formula, he is able to present us with varied insights that build up to being a very useful primer on how the sonnets play into the time they were written, how they have been received in the centuries since, and - most importantly - how understanding the actual process of creating poetry can help us to conclusions that may have been missed by the purebred intellectuals.
Which is really the key point of this book, truth be told. At times, I was frustrated when Paterson only glossed two lines of a given sonnet in depth. But that isn't what this book aims to be. What the author brings to Shakespeare's sonnets is a practicality sadly missing from much commentary. Where other scholars see a deliberately-laid puzzle, Paterson sees a poet trying to put words in the most beautiful order. Where scholars see a compositor's error during printing, Paterson sees a poet simply facing a deadline. Where some see brilliance, he will sometimes call their bluff by deconstructing the poem's composition. It's occasionally iconoclastic, and sometimes willfully pragmatic (and, of course, undoubtedly sometimes wrong), but more often than not I find myself believing him. (For instance, I've spent the last decade being somewhat doubtful about the numerological approaches to the sonnets - Helen Vendler is clearly nuts, but even Duncan-Jones may have just been a scholar fixated on a theory. However, as Paterson outlines his case, there's a construction worker's logic that I almost can't fault. Now, that's impressive.)
I do have one last little quibble, and that is the rather cute conceit that the book was written almost without editing. Paterson chose to read the sonnets whenever he could find the time, in the way that most people would read them, and document his thoughts as he goes. This is admirable, certainly, and fits in with the increasingly blog-like approach to non-fiction books these days; it also helps separate his work from the weightier tomes gathering dust on so many library bookshelves. Yet, it's ultimately distressing: when the author explains he won't investigate a line further because it's "after midnight", or because he's in a bad mood, well that just seems like poor criticism. It's not a dealbreaker, but there were a handful of moments when I was absolutely dismayed by Paterson's relaxed approach; I realise it's his authorial persona and not his true opinion, but nevertheless it does not bode well for the future of popular scholarship. Of course, there's an inverse argument to be made here - what Paterson does over the course of analysing these 154 poems is to, in effect, teach us how to read a poem. Not "read" it in the sense that we can all enjoy Sonnet #18 for being beautiful, or Sonnet #29 for expressing something mundane in a beautiful way. But in the sense that we actually analyse how a poem is put together, searching for the best way of doing it, and tearing down some of our basic assumptions that have led generations of Westerners to appreciate the "gloopy" sonnets (as Paterson calls them) often at the expense of the intelligent and tangled ones.
Still, why am I being so negative? This is a lovely book. Anyone seriously interested in the collection needs to check out the other works Paterson cites (well, maybe not the Vendler), and use your initiative! Yet, this is a worthy starting-point, and certainly a useful addition for those of us more seasoned in the subject matter. Paterson encourages us to see the sonnets as not just museum pieces for "close study" but as the works of a poet engaging in the world. I'm not a poet, although I do write fiction, but this was undoubtedly the book's greatest legacy. It doesn't just teach you how Shakespeare wrote, it sharpens the reader's critical faculties overall. What may look like good poetry might simply be pleasing poetry, Paterson argues - and until we can make that distinction, our ability to engage with the wider artistic world is weakened. (How much of my time writing this review was spent worrying about how my tenors matched my vehicles? So much of it. You'll understand what I mean if you read the book.)… (more)
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