by David Jarecki

The Book of Men and Women, by David Biespiel

“That’s what’s interesting to me. The state of being both lost and found.”

David Biespiel is widely recognized as one of the leading poets of his generation, a liberal commentator on national politics and also an expert in teaching writing. He has taught at every level of education, from a one-room schoolhouse to large university campuses, and has lectured and spoken to audiences throughout the United States. In 1999, looking to create an independent writing studio, Biespiel founded the Attic in Portland, Oregon’s historic Hawthorne district.

His publications include Shattering Air, Pilgrims & Beggars, Wild Civility, and most recently The Book of Men and Women, which was among the Poetry Foundation’s selections of top poetry of 2009. In addition, he has been honored with a Wallace Stegner Fellowship in Poetry, the Pacific Northwest Booksellers Award, a Lannan Fellowship, and a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship in Literature.

In The Book of Men and Women, Biespiel addresses the times in which we live with a perspective that shifts from global to introspective with ease. Always eager and willing to find new layers of metaphor, Biespiel goes to one of our oldest knonw source documents — The Book of Genesis — to help get the collection started. When we met in January to discuss the book, one of the first things we talked about was what it’s like to “cover” Genesis, and whether or not it benefits the reader to brush up on the ancient script.

I recently heard you mention that the Bible, specifically the Old Testament, informed some of poems in the book. As it relates to your opening poem, “Genesis 12,” do you think someone needs to be knowledgeable of this particular chapter to appreciate the piece?

I wrote it under the assumption that a reader would google Genesis: 12.

Essentially I was trying to write my own version and interpretive dramatization of that particular chapter of the Bible. The word I use is covering. I cover Genesis: 12 like the band on the corner covers “House of the Rising Sun.”

The Biblical Genesis: 12 is the point where Abraham is leaving his homeland and headed to Canaan. That’s the transition. If he doesn’t leave Ur, or wherever he was from, and go to Canaan, a lot of things don’t happen. Essentially, Abraham is a fanatic; his trek is related to his fanaticism.

My view of fanatics is that they’re so far around the bend in their fanaticism, that they come right around to the edge of doubt. If you could flip them, you could do so easily, and they wouldn’t know what they’re doing. People who come out of fanaticism often say things like, “Wow, it was like a bad dream.” Or an addiction.

I wanted to tell my version of the story from this awareness. The poem ends with the sentence, “I’m certain I’ve lost my mind.” Of course that’s what the fanatic has done: he’s lost his old mind and taken on a new one.

In the end, the poem is trying to look at Abraham as a prophet who’s unsure. The whole experience isn’t that pleasurable for him.

What the poem doesn’t address is the larger question that relates to the transitional moment in Biblical history, regardless of whether it’s factual. Instead it addresses the emotional state. That’s what’s interesting to me. The state of being both lost and found. And that’s not a Jewish tradition, per se. It’s more of an Evangelical tradition I suppose.

Abraham knows what he’s doing, but he also knows that by doing it, he’s wandering. It initiates this type of wandering motif throughout the entire collection.

You can find out more about The Book of Men and Women, Biespiel’s sixth book, at the University of Washington Press. For more about David Biespiel and his work, visit his blog.

Dave Jarecki writes poetry, fiction and nonfiction from his home in Portland, Ore. Read and listen to his work, as well as the work of guest writers, at DaveJarecki.com.