A Poet, a Scholar, a Believer in the Liberal Arts

Football player. Poet. Baccalaureate speaker. Watson Fellow. Academic All-American. Edward Hirsch ’72 played many roles as a student on the Grinnell campus, where he found his passion and vocation. At his commencement, he spoke philosophically to peers and parents about the challenges facing liberal arts graduates — words prophetic for today's Grinnellians, too.

Throughout the interceding 40 years, Hirsch earned a doctorate in folklore, taught creative writing and literature classes on college and university campuses, published nine collections of poetry and five books of prose, and won numerous prestigious awards and fellowships, including the Rome Prize (he was nominated by poet laureate Robert Penn Warren) and a MacArthur Fellowship.

Today, as president of the renowned John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation, Hirsch is an advocate for the arts and humanities, an acclaimed working poet, and a self-described “public intellectual.” During fall semester 2015, he will return to campus for Writers@Grinnell to read from and talk about his 2014 collection, Gabriel, a book-length elegy for his son. In this interview, Hirsch reflects on his writing career, his advocacy for poetry, and his views on the value of liberal arts education.

Your first publication in The Grinnell Magazine was in 1972, when you wrote “The Abandonment of the College Senior,” in which you reflected on the cultural struggles and economic conditions facing liberal arts graduates. What would you tell the class of 2015?

Peering over the ledge into adulthood, I felt ill-prepared for the practical world we were suddenly about to face. I was worried. I knew we had a solid educational grounding; I knew we had been well nurtured, but I wasn’t sure how we would make our way in the world. I’m sure many students feel the same way. The worries have only increased.

Nonetheless, my focus would be quite different today. Looking back, with perfect hindsight, I don’t think I’d be so consumed by worry. The most crucial thing that you can do in college is to explore your interests and find your passion. You’re lucky if you can discover your vocation. That’s what happened to me. I didn’t know the hurdles I would face; of course, I had no idea how tough it could be, but I had started on my path. That’s what I’d recommend: Imagine a life for yourself, then try to live it.

Early in your career, you described yourself as a “poet-athlete;” later you were described as an “urban poet;” and more recently, as an “accessible poet.” How would you describe yourself today?

I’m a poet, a critic, a teacher, and the president of a foundation. I started out as a poet and a jock (I wish I could still call myself a “poet-athlete” but that would be a stretch), a city kid who wrote poetry. Over time, I’ve tried to write more and more clearly, to reach readers. I am a poet first of all, but I’ve also tried to be an advocate for poetry itself, for the kind of experience that poetry delivers. It connects us more deeply to ourselves while linking us to others through language. That also led me to try to make the case for the liberal arts, which are so crucial to our humanity.

Several of your works were set during periods of insomnia, which you’ve credited with being “good writing and thinking time.”

I’ve struggled with sleep throughout my life. I think it’s healthier to sleep well, but I’ve tried to make something out of my insomnia. It’s during those long nights that I’ve done most of the serious reading in my life, for example. I also like the situation that insomnia sets up inside a poem — I like the solitary feeling it creates.

What would you recommend to the young, aspiring writer?

You need discipline and courage to face the blank page every day. You’re looking into the abyss of yourself. Some work better by day, others by night; some prefer a regular schedule, others love irregularity. The key thing is to work, to read, to learn your craft. You can’t rely totally on inspiration. Poiesis means making, and you need to learn how to make something.

Was there creative writing at Grinnell in your day?

Grinnell didn’t have much in the way of creative writing when I was a student. Each year, the Selden L. Whitcomb Prize brought in one poet. I think my own path would have been much less lonely if there had been creative writing courses in poetry. Nonetheless, I had great encouragement from my teachers, both inside and outside of the classroom. I’m thinking of Carol Miller Parssinen ’63, Ed Moore, Mike Lieberman, and Jim Kissane ’52. Many of my teachers outside the English department also liked the idea of a football-playing poet — the McKibbens [Bill and Betty], Al Jones ’50, Chuck Cleaver, Terry Parssinen ’63, Neil Milner, Greg Guroff, and Joe Wall ’41, among others. Even my coaches, John Pfitsch and Edd Bowers ’43, were on board. One of the benefits of being at a small liberal arts college is that your teachers come to know you. They help you expand your horizons. I owe a lot of my life as a writer to the encouragement and support I got at Grinnell.

In How to Read a Poem, you posit that “reading poetry is endangered because reading itself is endangered in our culture.” How does the digital age impact your craft? What remedies do you see?

I wouldn’t say that the digital age has altered my writing or changed my craft, but it has certainly affected the reading of poetry, both in positive and negative ways.

On the positive side, people are using websites such as the Academy of American Poets (poets.org) with great frequency. People have universal access to information. They can get to poems more easily than ever. On the negative side, our whole culture has attention deficit disorder. It’s difficult to do any sustained reading on the Internet. There’s something lost in poetry without sustained attention. The advantage, for instance, of an online poetry class is that it makes poetry available to people all over the place; the disadvantage is that there is no live presence or intimacy, no easy give and take.

You have said repeatedly that “poems are endlessly interpretable,” yet secondary education seems to force the expectation of finding the symbolism, the meaning in poems. How do you change that trend and invite followers?

Public education in this country is in dire condition, and poetry is one of the scandals of public education. The emphasis on testing, for example, works against the study of poetry. There are no “right answers” in poetry. In other cultures, students sometimes get a feeling for poetry from their families. In our culture, we have a limited view of poetry and don’t impart its value. Schools need to do the work that families neglect. This is where we have failed. Teachers, too, are often unprepared and uncomfortable with poetry. I’d start by encouraging and retraining teachers. I’d also send young poets into the classroom. I’d make poems (and books) more available.

Poetry has historically tackled subjects of death and loss. Your 2015 campus appearance will include a reading of your new book about your son’s life, death, and memory. What do you expect to impart to Grinnell students about the arts and tragedy?

Art has always dealt with trauma. There is something scandalous about our mortality. It’s extremely difficult to accept that people we love actually die. I will talk about my poem as a work of mourning. I’ll also talk about the ways that art and poetry address tragedy. The program will be part conversation, part interview, part reading.

Your position at the Guggenheim Foundation has allowed you to be a champion and public voice for poetry. Have you accomplished what you set out to do 10–12 years ago? What’s the next step/stage/work for you?

I have been making the case for poetry and the humanities, but it’s still very much a work in progress. It’s an uphill fight in a celebrity-driven, media-saturated, extremely materialistic society. We need to encourage the interior life, to make the case for the arts, to help make the humanities available to everyone throughout our culture. The need is there, the challenges are great, and the work is far from complete.

Writers@Grinnell

Hirsch will visit campus
on Thursday, Oct. 8, 2015,
as part of the Writers@Grinnell series.