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New Directions Poetry Pamphlet #1
Sorting Facts Or Nineteen Ways of Looking at Marker
Part of our revived "Poetry Pamphlet Series," Sorting Facts is Susan Howe's masterful meditation on the filmmaker Chris Marker, whose film stills are interspersed throughout.
An excerpt:
Sorting word-facts I only know an apparition. Scribble grammar has no neighbor. In the name of reason I need to record something because I am a survivor in this ocean.
An excerpt:
Sorting word-facts I only know an apparition. Scribble grammar has no neighbor. In the name of reason I need to record something because I am a survivor in this ocean.
- GenresPoetryFilmNonfictionArt
Unknown Binding
First published January 17, 2013
3 people are currently reading
229 people want to read
About the author
Susan Howe
68 books156 followersSusan Howe was born in 1937 in Boston, Massachusetts. She is the author of several books of poems and two volumes of criticism. Her most recent poetry collections are The Midnight (2003), Kidnapped (2002), The Europe of Trusts (2002), Pierce-Arrow (1999), Frame Structures: Early Poems 1974-1979 (1996), The Nonconformist's Memorial (1993), The Europe of Trusts: Selected Poems (1990), and Singularities (1990).
Her books of criticism are The Birth-Mark: Unsettling the Wilderness in American Literary History (1993), which was named an "International Book of the Year" by the Times Literary Supplement, and My Emily Dickinson (1985).
Her work also has appeared in Anthology of American Poetry, edited by Cary Nelson (Oxford University Press, 1999); The Norton Anthology of Contemporary American Poetry (2003); and Poems for the Millennium, Volume 2, edited by Pierre Joris and Jerome Rotherberg (1998).
She has received two American Book Awards from the Before Columbus Foundation and was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1999. In 1996 she was awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship and in the winter of 1998 she was a distinguished fellow at the Stanford Institute of the Humanities.
Her books of criticism are The Birth-Mark: Unsettling the Wilderness in American Literary History (1993), which was named an "International Book of the Year" by the Times Literary Supplement, and My Emily Dickinson (1985).
Her work also has appeared in Anthology of American Poetry, edited by Cary Nelson (Oxford University Press, 1999); The Norton Anthology of Contemporary American Poetry (2003); and Poems for the Millennium, Volume 2, edited by Pierre Joris and Jerome Rotherberg (1998).
She has received two American Book Awards from the Before Columbus Foundation and was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1999. In 1996 she was awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship and in the winter of 1998 she was a distinguished fellow at the Stanford Institute of the Humanities.
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
January 19, 2019
Fascinating take of a poet on a film maker and where the two coincide. Two poetic visions.
April 19, 2025
"Looking back, Orpheus was the first known documentarist: Orpheus, or Lot's wife."
August 28, 2025
It’s a shame to write something ostensibly linking Marker’s work to Russian constructivism and not talk once about the film where the two worlds collide - Letters from Siberia.
It’s cool because it’s similar to things I want to write (which makes it cool) and talks about a bunch of film makers I really like (even cooler) but I can’t say I resonated with it too much. I wish it was really 19 ways of looking at Marker, rather than one interesting idea repeated over 60 pages. That’s poetry for you I guess.
It’s cool because it’s similar to things I want to write (which makes it cool) and talks about a bunch of film makers I really like (even cooler) but I can’t say I resonated with it too much. I wish it was really 19 ways of looking at Marker, rather than one interesting idea repeated over 60 pages. That’s poetry for you I guess.
October 23, 2023
Susan Howe’s given me permission to make a Hollywood blockbuster
January 23, 2014
I. I've never seen any of Chris Marker's films, but this book made me want to. (You can watch
La Jetée
online, or it's available on DVD, along with Marker's 1982 film, Sans Soleil.) (I've never read Moby-Dick, either, and this book made me want to do that as well.)
II. Howe's book is mostly in prose: nineteen numbered sections ranging in length from a paragraph to twenty-two pages, with images from films interspersed with the text: an airplane seen from below, a woman with an inscrutable expression, a scene of dismay, a fuzzy image of, what, a shadow on water? Soldiers cross a frozen lake; a balloon hovers/wavers. Another blur; three blonde children walking; that woman, again. There is one other image: the return address on an envelope, postmarked January 1943 from Roswell, New Mexico: a letter from Howe's then-future husband, now deceased.
III. Don't worry: this isn't going to be nineteen sections long.
IV. What's interesting and challenging about this book is the way Howe brings together so many different strands. She's writing about the films of Chris Marker, sometimes in detail, scene by scene, but also writes that she "was drawn to the project because of the fact of [her] husband's death and [her] wish to find a way to document his life and work" (5). Other filmmakers make an appearance: Dziga Vertov, Andrei Tarkovsky. Howe writes about Ivan's Childhood and also about the movie-going experiences of her own childhood, and also about her husband's life as a pilot in wartime, and also about the death of Lenin and Three Songs about Lenin, and also about American literature she knows well: Herman Melville, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, the idea of montage in their work.
V. The word "fact" keeps recurring. "Without words, what are facts?" (7). The idea of "the primacy of the "factual"" in Vertov's work (9). Poets and nonfiction filmakers as working by "factual telepathy" (7). The world is "flooded with facts" (13).
VI. There's something so satisfying about the kind of close-reading that Howe is doing of Marker's films. Like this:
VII. There is in this book a sense of "oscillating between presence and absence" (10). Howe writes about her husband; Howe writes to her husband. Howe writes about her husband's image in photographs, in a home-movie; she writes about his studio, now gone: she "can only perceive its imprint or trace" (25). Her husband's daughter, from an earlier marriage, "remembers listening to the noise of waves breaking over pebbles in the cove at night, how tides pulled them under, how they swirled and regrouped in the drift and came back" (25). "A documentary work is an attempt to recapture someone something somewhere looking back" (50).
II. Howe's book is mostly in prose: nineteen numbered sections ranging in length from a paragraph to twenty-two pages, with images from films interspersed with the text: an airplane seen from below, a woman with an inscrutable expression, a scene of dismay, a fuzzy image of, what, a shadow on water? Soldiers cross a frozen lake; a balloon hovers/wavers. Another blur; three blonde children walking; that woman, again. There is one other image: the return address on an envelope, postmarked January 1943 from Roswell, New Mexico: a letter from Howe's then-future husband, now deceased.
III. Don't worry: this isn't going to be nineteen sections long.
IV. What's interesting and challenging about this book is the way Howe brings together so many different strands. She's writing about the films of Chris Marker, sometimes in detail, scene by scene, but also writes that she "was drawn to the project because of the fact of [her] husband's death and [her] wish to find a way to document his life and work" (5). Other filmmakers make an appearance: Dziga Vertov, Andrei Tarkovsky. Howe writes about Ivan's Childhood and also about the movie-going experiences of her own childhood, and also about her husband's life as a pilot in wartime, and also about the death of Lenin and Three Songs about Lenin, and also about American literature she knows well: Herman Melville, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, the idea of montage in their work.
V. The word "fact" keeps recurring. "Without words, what are facts?" (7). The idea of "the primacy of the "factual"" in Vertov's work (9). Poets and nonfiction filmakers as working by "factual telepathy" (7). The world is "flooded with facts" (13).
VI. There's something so satisfying about the kind of close-reading that Howe is doing of Marker's films. Like this:
La Jetée, composed almost entirely of photo stills, begins abruptly with a violent out-of-field-movement-sound-image, the roar of revving and hovering jet engines. Sometimes I think I hear sirens, until the whine or scream of aviation doubles and dissolves into cathedral music: voices in a choir sing passages from the Russian Liturgy of the Good Saturday. In northern Russia, Iceland, and other northern places, the sun never goes out of sight in summer. La Jetée's aborted soundtrack takeoff evokes technicist and eschatological worldviews.
Immediately time could be going either way. (13-14)
VII. There is in this book a sense of "oscillating between presence and absence" (10). Howe writes about her husband; Howe writes to her husband. Howe writes about her husband's image in photographs, in a home-movie; she writes about his studio, now gone: she "can only perceive its imprint or trace" (25). Her husband's daughter, from an earlier marriage, "remembers listening to the noise of waves breaking over pebbles in the cove at night, how tides pulled them under, how they swirled and regrouped in the drift and came back" (25). "A documentary work is an attempt to recapture someone something somewhere looking back" (50).
December 30, 2015
Howe issues her trademark mix of critical theory and poetry. She notes in here that she didn't know she wrote documentary poetry until someone told her so. The book explores the discrepancy between filmed memories and facts, writing about Chris Marker's films, but also about Tarkovsky's, Lenin documentaries, & memories of Howe's late husband. All divergences welcome. For those who already love Marker's Sans Soleil, this book only widens its scope.
July 2, 2013
I don’t have the right adjectives either to describe what Howe has done here or to indicate my profound admiration for her approach. Since I feel the same speechless awe for Marker’s work, I’m sure she is on the right track. Now that I’ve read this gem, I plan to study it closely. Why doesn’t more criticism show this level of engagement and challenge?
June 28, 2020
de movimento estático, eles aparecem junto com o vento do vendaval. "A look can be an embrace or a wound,
Even the gaze os statues."
VISAGE SELVEDGE]
"..." the hauntedness all that is in the other stream of consciousness.
remembers listening to the noise of waves breaking over pebbles in the cove at night, how tides pulled them under, how they swirled and regrouped in the drift and came back. Do oceano, vasto. tão vasto. "because the sea is silent but as waves wash against and around it they sound and sound. is. language." converse comigo, emita teus grunhidos, teus sussurros. "Languages bear particular canny or uncanny acoustical patterns, historical scars." WORDS ARE THE SYMBOLS OF SPIRITS!
"embodiment of the fluid and passing states, the interaction and interjection, between sorrow and distress."
Mother of dreams come cover you son's staring photograph. invisible colliding phenomena.
Even the gaze os statues."
VISAGE SELVEDGE]
"..." the hauntedness all that is in the other stream of consciousness.
remembers listening to the noise of waves breaking over pebbles in the cove at night, how tides pulled them under, how they swirled and regrouped in the drift and came back. Do oceano, vasto. tão vasto. "because the sea is silent but as waves wash against and around it they sound and sound. is. language." converse comigo, emita teus grunhidos, teus sussurros. "Languages bear particular canny or uncanny acoustical patterns, historical scars." WORDS ARE THE SYMBOLS OF SPIRITS!
"embodiment of the fluid and passing states, the interaction and interjection, between sorrow and distress."
Mother of dreams come cover you son's staring photograph. invisible colliding phenomena.
December 6, 2020
An unexpected book that seeks no mastery over the work of Chris Marker, but rather a poetic openness to the vital films La Jetée and Sans Soleil. The book is one that doubtless would have pleased Marker far more than the many academic tomes that have appeared, the serious scholarly articles, the rise of the Essay Film as an object of study within the academy. No, Marker would, and we can embrace the associative meandering and interweaving of personal story into these musings on his two most famous films. The book is a poem, and Marker valued a poem as the highest creation, along with music. In this, he embraced his "Russian side," as he once remarked (he also offered Vodka to his guests). But Howe's Marker-poem is much lighter; it resembles a graceful flocking of birds around images that appear and disappear, to the wonderment of the ear and eye.
Read
October 26, 2019En ollut varma, pystyisinkö kirjoittamaan esseetä non-fiktiosta, mutta koska aviomieheni kuoli, niin olen.
Mi-tä
Aaaaaaaaaaaaa
Ei ehkä mikään rohkaisevin aloitus yhtään millekään kirjoitukselle. Plus se siteerasi Markeria väärin.
Mi-tä
Aaaaaaaaaaaaa
Ei ehkä mikään rohkaisevin aloitus yhtään millekään kirjoitukselle. Plus se siteerasi Markeria väärin.
February 9, 2019
Det finns en vis typ av konstkritik där du inte behöver ha upplevt konstverket i fråga, eller ens hört tallas om det innan för att få ditt sätt att se på värden runt om kring förändrat av texten ifråga. Inte så att det blir någon bestående förändring, texter gör sällan det, utan snarare ligger texten som en avlagring i minnet. När du ser eller hör om något som kanske bara är vagt relaterat springer associationerna till liv. Får dig att se på en person, en mening, eller en nyhet på ett lite annat sätt. Ur en lite annan vinkel. Även om du senare inte kan placera hur din syn har förändrats, eller ens varför.
Susan Howes essä är ett sånt stycke kritik. I den studerar hon, sorterar upp, styckar, dokumentärfilmaren Chris Markers filmer. Men, som med alla verkligt bra stycken kritik är det bara en del av vad hon gör. Det som drev poeten Howes till att skriva den här essän var hennes mans bortgång. Hur ett liv blir en samling av bilder, upplevelser, minnen, faktan. Faktan vi inte riktigt vet hur vi skall sortera. Hur vi skall minnas dom, placera in dem i ett större sammanhang. Hur sorterar man faktan från ett liv, ett konstnärskap i en större helhet? Eller för den delens skull en vän, en make?
Man kan som Howe gör placera in konstnärskapet i en tid, i ett förlösande ögonblick en ur-händelse. I detta fallet andra världskriget. Ryssland. Vi får lära känna tiden efter andra världskriget. Hur filmer och bildkonst försökte hantera det. Och jag fick lära mig mer om rysk film än jag viste att jag ville veta. Men inget av det räcker. Du kan aldrig sortera fakta på det viset. Faktum är att Howe verkar givit upp. Istället blir det nitton olika långa essäer, som angriper det på olika sätt.
Du kan inte titta rakt in i en solförmörkelse utan att bli blind. Kanske är det samma sak med ett liv, med ett konstnärskap. Howes har förstått det. Det blir nitton olika essäer, bilder att ett konstnärskap, men aldrig framifrån, nitton bilder av olika sidor, som aldrig fångar helheten. Den får du gissa dig till själv. Märken på en karta. Försök sortera dem bäst du kan.
Jag har aldrig varit intresserad av film. Än mindre dokumentär film. Har bara sätt en handfull i mitt liv. Men jag läser om långa stycken i boken gång på gång för att få vistas mer med den. Om Howe hade skrivit den här boken tjugo eller trettio år tidigare hade den varit allmängods bland den lilla klick som följer högkulturen. Likt Susan Sontag. Eller Charles Baudelaire konstkritik. Den befinner sig i samma tradition. Samma kvalitet. Tyvärr släptes den under nittonhundranittiotalet. Värken ekonomin eller intresset för seriös konstkritik som är något mer än bara en recension värkar finnas kvar på något bredare skalla. Det gör inte det här stycket kritik till mindre av en bedrift.
Susan Howes essä är ett sånt stycke kritik. I den studerar hon, sorterar upp, styckar, dokumentärfilmaren Chris Markers filmer. Men, som med alla verkligt bra stycken kritik är det bara en del av vad hon gör. Det som drev poeten Howes till att skriva den här essän var hennes mans bortgång. Hur ett liv blir en samling av bilder, upplevelser, minnen, faktan. Faktan vi inte riktigt vet hur vi skall sortera. Hur vi skall minnas dom, placera in dem i ett större sammanhang. Hur sorterar man faktan från ett liv, ett konstnärskap i en större helhet? Eller för den delens skull en vän, en make?
Man kan som Howe gör placera in konstnärskapet i en tid, i ett förlösande ögonblick en ur-händelse. I detta fallet andra världskriget. Ryssland. Vi får lära känna tiden efter andra världskriget. Hur filmer och bildkonst försökte hantera det. Och jag fick lära mig mer om rysk film än jag viste att jag ville veta. Men inget av det räcker. Du kan aldrig sortera fakta på det viset. Faktum är att Howe verkar givit upp. Istället blir det nitton olika långa essäer, som angriper det på olika sätt.
Du kan inte titta rakt in i en solförmörkelse utan att bli blind. Kanske är det samma sak med ett liv, med ett konstnärskap. Howes har förstått det. Det blir nitton olika essäer, bilder att ett konstnärskap, men aldrig framifrån, nitton bilder av olika sidor, som aldrig fångar helheten. Den får du gissa dig till själv. Märken på en karta. Försök sortera dem bäst du kan.
Jag har aldrig varit intresserad av film. Än mindre dokumentär film. Har bara sätt en handfull i mitt liv. Men jag läser om långa stycken i boken gång på gång för att få vistas mer med den. Om Howe hade skrivit den här boken tjugo eller trettio år tidigare hade den varit allmängods bland den lilla klick som följer högkulturen. Likt Susan Sontag. Eller Charles Baudelaire konstkritik. Den befinner sig i samma tradition. Samma kvalitet. Tyvärr släptes den under nittonhundranittiotalet. Värken ekonomin eller intresset för seriös konstkritik som är något mer än bara en recension värkar finnas kvar på något bredare skalla. Det gör inte det här stycket kritik till mindre av en bedrift.
November 30, 2014
interesting. not totally my thing - just not enough of a film person - but worth the read
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews