The World Lyric: Towards a Poetics of the Global Walt Hunter Wynnewood, PA A.B., Harvard College, 2004 A Dissertation Presented to the Graduate Faculty of the University of Virginia in Candidacy for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy Department of English University of Virginia August, 2013 ABSTRACT “The World Lyric: Towards a Poetics of the Global” argues that the modern lyric poem imaginatively constructs a global subject. This project considers a group of writers whose poetry makes visible the rise, expansion, and development of modern forms of globalization: from mid-nineteenth-century diaspora, to early twentieth-century empire and colonization, to the financialization of the world economic system after World War II, and finally to the economic and social conditions of the present. I argue that the modern lyric’s attachment to the “I,” so often considered the vehicle of self-expression, uniquely captures the tensions between the subject of accelerating global convergence and the “I” of political and economic oppression. Building on the important conversations about the role of lyric poetry and the centrality of literary genres to political agency launched by critics as various as James Longenbach, Jacques Rancière, and Virginia Jackson, the project also brings to bear on modern poetics the new considerations of global theory and political ethics, from the thinking of Hannah Arendt, Giorgio Agamben, and Gianni Vattimo to the issues of "precarious life" in Judith Butler and Paulo Virno, along with questions of global solidarity and scarcity. The first chapter explores the forging of a diasporic Irish lyric by Jane Wilde, Lady Gregory, and W. B. Yeats from the mass emigration and economic oppression of the Great Hunger. Next, I turn to lyrics of empire by the Caribbean poet Claude McKay, whose dialect ballads and sonnets address the condition of colonized subjects on the move from Kingston to New York to North Africa. Bringing the lyric into the Cold War period of US hegemony, my third chapter focuses on James Merrill, who merges the lyric with the epic in order to sing global crisis. Building on the work of social theorists and philosophers who have recently turned to lyric to understand precarity (Berlant, Berardi, Badiou), the coda considers a group of contemporary poets who take up classical lyric modes of exhortation and blame, dynamically transforming the sovereign “I” into a precarious “we.” Table of Contents Introduction The World and the Lyric 1 1 “Song shall be the only treasure”: The Irish World Lyric, 1847-1921 24 2 Claude McKay’s Constabulary Aesthetics: The Social Poetics of Global Cities 62 3 “Poor lyrism”: James Merrill and the Lyric of Global Crisis 103 Coda A Global “We”: The Politics of Precarious Life in the Contemporary World Lyric 149 Works Cited 177 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS My first thanks go to the members of my dissertation committee, who have been the intellectual models and mentors that a graduate student dreams of finding. Jahan Ramazani’s impress can be felt on every page, his keen guidance having irrevocably shaped my reading of poetry and immeasurably expanded my sense of the possibilities for writing about it. His criticisms were always right; his patience allowed me to see this for myself. Jennifer Wicke taught me that teaching is a form of friendship, and that friendship is one of the highest forms of love. I thank her for the artistry of her mentorship and the fearlessness of her wisdom. Among the many things that Stephen Cushman taught me, the etymology of belief remains the strongest tie that binds us as friends. He knew when to be gentle and when to be firm, and his questions helped me make the decisions that would otherwise have lingered beyond my sight and power. Together, their intellectual probity, generosity, and companionship form both the lyric undersong and the high descant of my years under their care. Victor Luftig and Elizabeth Fowler, unofficial fourth and fifth committee members, read countless drafts and papers, brought me to Ireland, fed me, steered me, and believed in me. Their love and advice—and the luminous friendship of Josiah Luftig—have made all the difference. This project also bears the indelible mark of two people I met during my final two years of graduate work. Richard Handler’s confidence in my research and teaching made both possible. Among many other things, Talbot Brewer taught me to recognize the changing shapes of knowledge, love, and friendship. Members of the English department at the University of Virginia generously supported this project through its drafts and stages. Herbert Tucker and Jerome McGann radically expanded my sense of the possibilities for reading poetry. Jennifer Greeson’s wisdom and friendship have kept me sane. Marlon Ross helped me to read McKay, Paul Hunter to read Merrill. Michael Levenson was ready to trust my ideas and plans even in their earliest stages. Jessica Feldman, Clare Kinney, Caroline Rody, Susan Fraiman, Sandhya Shukla, Mrinalini Chakravorty, Eric Lott, Claire Waters, and Rita Felski all exerted considerable influence on my thinking. John Parker was a source of warm friendship and advice. Katharine Maus gave me the chance to teach The Winter’s Tale in a garden under cherry blossoms. Cynthia Wall cheered and supported me. Special thanks go to Lisa Russ Spaar for the time and the gifts she has given me. From outside the English department, I thank Malcolm Bell, for checking in over coffee and at concerts; Deborah McGrady, for supporting my translation project with Lindsay Turner; and Krishan Kumar, for his interest in my work. Friends and mentors from other institutions helped me at various stages along the way. Peter Sacks stepped in at regular intervals to encourage and advise. Jorie Graham taught me as much about reading and writing poetry as about the ethical life. I thank her, Peter, and Emily Galvin for caring for me like a member of their family. Michael Gordin shared his thoughts at an important moment in the development of my global studies course. Jonathan Highfield shared his music. Anne-Lise François and I got lost in Toronto, but she helped me find a way out. Katie Peterson was there during wind and rain. This dissertation is also the record of many conversations I had with my students. I thank Jia Tolentino, in particular, for all that we have shared from the beginning. I am especially grateful to Raine Trainor, Elizabeth Baxa, Sarah Matalone, Elizabeth Syrkin, Annie Musgrove, Mayank Bhatia, Natalie Zhao, Miriam Hancock, Jessie Modi, Julia Sharpe, Meg Gould, Megan Glaub, Jewel Crosswell, Amara Warren, and Amy Curtis. My students in both semesters of Global Development Studies 2020: Culture, Commerce, Travel sharpened and refined my thinking through their generous friendship. Friends in and out of graduate school have given invaluable advice and copious amounts of time: Shaun Cullen, Marie Ostby, Jennifer Chang, Gabriel Haley, Tim Duffy, Jean Franzino, Eric Rettberg, Nathan Ragain, Scott Selisker, and Laura Goldblatt. I’m especially grateful for Stephen Macekura’s thoughtfulness and intelligence, for Rebecca Strauss’s early mornings, and for Madigan Haley’s kindness and intellectual honesty. Robert Stilling saw me through. Lindsay Turner challenged and helped form every idea on these pages, so they are dedicated to her. Many other close friends have guided me through these years: Richard Re, Cody Carvel, Michael Sanchez, Jeff Nagy, Jordan Taylor, Nicholas Rubin, Adam Brock and Emma Rathbone, Thomas Rock and Kristen Rock, Alexander Davis, Kira Manser, Emily White, Jocelyn Spaar, Sarah D’Adamo. Jason Canavan bought last-minute tickets many times over. Barbara Moriarty, June Webb, Randy Swift, Pamela Marcantel, Cheryl Lewis, and Sarah Colvin all deserve huge and endless hugs of gratitude. I am deeply grateful for support from the Society of Fellows at the University of Virginia, from the Faculty Senate, and from the Institute of the Humanities and Global Cultures. Finally, my deepest gratitude goes to my parents Walt and Janet for their patience and care and to my sister Aubrey for her solidarity in laughter, pain, and love. Hunter 1 Introduction The World and the Lyric A poem in the Book of Songs, the collection of 305 lyric poems with which the Chinese literary tradition begins, memorably addresses a lover in the lyric mode of exhortation: Cold blows the northern wind, Thick falls the snow. Be kind to me, love me, Take my hand and go with me. (35) A much later poem, Walt Whitman’s “Small the Theme of My Chant,” from the 1869 Leaves of Grass, brings the hortatory lyric into the modern period, but not without difficulty: Small the theme of my Chant, yet the greatest—namely, One’s-Self—a simple, separate person. That, for the use of the New World, I sing. Man’s physiology complete, from top to toe, I sing. Not physiognomy alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for the Muse;—I say the Form complete is worthier far. The Female equally with the Male, I sing. Nor cease at the theme of One’s-Self. I speak the word of the modern, the word En-Masse. My Days I sing, and the Lands—with interstice I knew of hapless War. (O friend, whoe’er you are, at last arriving hither to commence, I feel through every leaf the pressure of your hand, which I return. Hunter 2 And thus upon our journey, footing the road, and more than once, and link’d together let us go.) (627-8) Whitman’s exhortations point to a certain problem of representation at the heart of modern and contemporary lyric poetry: how can the singular pronoun “I” of the poem contain both “One’s-Self” and the “word of the modern, the word En-Masse?” While we might think of lyric poetry as being directed towards a single person—“O friend”— Whitman immediately makes the lyric accommodate itself to the “word En-Masse”: “whoe’er you are, at last arriving hither to commence.” From within the intimate address that is constitutive of the lyric as a form, Whitman breaks open the poem to accept the unknown friend.