Speak, Memory…

Probably a great many readers have, like me, been brought to a halt by a brief passage of poetry in Stephen King’s 2008 novel, Duma Key. King very cleverly constructed the passage as a three-pointed allusion, and if nothing else illustrates that he is anything but an untutored writer, slamming out bestsellers without any thought to literary technique. I refer to a passage in Chapter 13—The Show…

“You read me poems because Wireman couldn’t. Do you remember that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Of course I remembered. Those had been sweet interludes.

“If I were to say ‘Speak, memory’ to you, you’d think of the man—I can’t recall his name—who wrote Lolita, wouldn’t you?”

I had no idea who she was talking about, but I nodded.

“But there’s a poem, too. I can’t remember who wrote it, but it begins, ‘Speak, memory, that I may not forget the taste of roses, nor the sound of ashes in the wind; That I may once more taste the green cup of the sea.’”

This exchange takes place at an art gallery as the two are standing before a painting of a young girl in a boat. The woman is referring first to a 1951 book by Vladimir Nabokov titled, Speak, Memory. Nabokov’s later book, Lolita was about a young girl. The poem quoted, which uses Nabokov’s Speak, Memory title in the opening lines is by Daubmir Nadir. The complete poem is quoted in the passage above from Duma Key.

The allusion as constructed by King adds another layer to his characters, and moves the story into its next stage with true finesse. I got that right off, as I expect most readers also do, but because the author wrote, ‘but it begins…’ I was prompted to follow it up, to see the remaining lines of an impressive poem.

As it happens, King quoted the poem in its entirety. It is one called “Cups” by the somewhat mysterious French poet, Daubmir Nadir. Interesting name. ‘Daubmir’ is ‘Rimbaud’ spelled backwards, as in French symbolist Arthur Rimbaud. ‘Nadir’ of course carries the meaning, ‘the lowest point.’ Like I said, an interesting name. Because I liked the Daubmir poem in Duma Key, I looked through his other poems, most of which are easily accessible here, but unfortunately came away from it not too terribly impressed. I read quite a few of Daubmir’s poems, but in the end felt slightly cheated. I saw too much pretense, too much clumsy juggling of big words attempting to describe inner or metaphysical tremblings, but leaving me instead in confusion as to meaning. Among the three dozen poems I read, only one reached beyond my eyes. It’s another short poem (there are many) titled “Basic Needs.”

Thirsting

for my soul

I cannot

find its shadow

Hungry

for my love

I cannot

find salvation

Weeping

for my life

I cannot

find solution

Apart from this brief work, I was left with inelegant and clouded lines like: ‘…the clogged stomata of my agitated addiction’; ‘Spiced with pomegranate between the larvae of my arillate genius’ and ‘the suppurating cavities of unrealized adventures.’

From the preview of Daubmir Nadir offered by Stephen King in Duma Key, I thought I might have found another poet to read and enjoy. It didn’t work out that way. Still, I won’t dispute that the poem “Cups” is a fine piece, well-written and rich in meaning.

What About Language?

At a conference or gathering of writers, Stephen King once asked Amy Tan what the one question was that no one ever asked during the Q and A following a talk. She gave the question some thought and told him that no one ever asked about language. King agreed that his fellow writer had hit the nail on the head—they never ask about language when the writer is a popular novelist, and one set apart from such as Don DeLillo, John Updike or William Styron.

Soon after that conversation Stephen King wrote a book in which he answers the question about language. The book is called, Stephen King on Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, and it is dedicated to the friend and writer who brought the thought to life in his mind, Amy Tan.

For reasons I’m not sure I understand, despite his huge and enduring popularity, too many of Stephen King’s readers pass over the layers in his books and stories, focusing rather on the horror or his simple genius for storytelling. No question that his books can be bone chilling, and only a slab of concrete could resist the pull of his stories, but there is a depth of craft to King’s writing that would impress even William Faulkner.

Probably less than the truth to describe myself as a devoted fan of Stephen King, as one who eagerly awaits each new book, but I have read a fair number of his books, and in each of those King rarely fails to bring some illumination to the human condition, while also offering provocative comment on a society so vulnerable to technology and its addictions. His characters are never one-dimensional, and his themes go far beyond horror and the macabre. Look at Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption, or The Body, a novella that inspired the movie, Stand By Me. For a violent look at the extremes of technology-addiction look at Cell.

But my point here is not to review one or any of Stephen King’s many books, rather to point fans toward one of the lesser celebrated of his books, the one written in 2000 and dedicated to Amy Tan. It is a 284 page answer to the question in King’s mind of ‘What about language?’ For my money the book could fill out a six month course on how to write.

Thanks to my friend Shelby for inspiring the subject of this post.