Book review: Robert Trent Jones’s Poems 2008 (part 2, golf)

The first part of this article, which discusses Jones’s classical and travel poems, is here.

Let’s review. Last time, we discussed how Jones likes Shelley and Eliot, uses classical mythology and travel for some of his inspiration, and fares better with his metered work than with free verse. Sticking with the metered poetry is good practice – “good and severe discipline” as Hemingway once wrote, meaning that by being forced to follow rules and work in a tight framework was good practice for your word choice and your mental agility.

Jones’s strengths are his observant eye, passionate voice, and ability to convey the picture to the reader. These are best on display in his golf poems. They are just simple sketches paying homage to the golf course or its history. They aren’t meant to be heroic epics; they’re just nice little golf memories. Here’s a few:

From St. Andrews:

Friends have passed by friends

For half a millennium in all seasons

Inhaling pure air at Sea’s end.

In summer, full joy at the long solstice light,

In winter, girded against the cold wind and early night.

The same friends passed by unrecognized

Except by the manner of the others’ swing and stride.

Unseen bunkers evoked anger and mirth

For tall and slim or stout of girth

(Refrain): Round and round we go

In the calm and in the gale

Gentle air suddenly impaled.

Round and round we go

Always back as first I came

Among true spirits of the game.

Pretty good, except for “gentle air suddenly impaled.” That’s an anchor, dragging down how the refrain reads, and it recites even worse. Moreover the rhyme scheme is a strange “a-b-b, a-c-c” which is a little stiff. How about this instead:

Round and round we go

In the calm and in the gale

Round and round we go

Always back as first we came.

Round and round we go

In the sun and through the hail

Round and round we go

Among the spirits of the game.

The consistent meter makes it read more smoothly and gives it a good sing-song quality during an oral recitation. Anyway, here are some good passages from three more poems about courses. From Winged Foot:

Raise a toast to Winged Foot

The champion once again!

Tillie’s in the bar

Raisin’ a jar to old man par.

From Oakmont:

Oakmont by Henry Fownes

Created many frowns

When he put golfers down, down, down in the church pews

In the Presbyterian way

When they missed the fairway

They had to get up and down on the toss and tumbling ground.

And from The Opening (of Chambers Bay):

And of man’s beginnings in this place

How the Almighty had made the earth

Of towering mountains and gleaming plain

Girded with tall trees and vast waters

To adorn his splendors….

….And at rounds end

A place of refuge with hearth ablaze

Beckons the weary who struggled

With man and nature on the plain below.

So all in all, while’s he’s no Shelley or Eliot, Jones has taken some of golf’s hallowed venues and distilled their essence into some breezy, accessible verse. Golfers can easily imagine the fervent love we all have for hallowed St. Andrews, they can feel the tournament pressures of Oakmont and Winged Foot, – America’s sternest major championship venues – and smell and taste the pristine, idyllic setting of Chambers Bay. He has captured their essence, imparted some visual pictures and philosophical insights to the reader, and had some fun. After all, poems are good food for the soul. What more can you ask of a budding poet? Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither was Lord Byron.

First and foremost, a great writer must have an original, passionate, and observant voice. Jones has two of the three, and, with practice, the third will develop. Most importantly, he’s observant. While his word choice and meter need fine-tuning, he sees the soul of his subject and does a good job of describing the scene to the reader. His makes his subjects and stories interesting, showing us great detail when he focuses the camera eye on their nuances. Second, he’s passionate. He is enthusiastic about poetry, and is not afraid to take chances. When you write from the heart, and write what you know, the energy translates directly to the reader. When you write naturally and passionately, you usually write more persuasively.

The third requirement is that the writer needs an original voice, one that is accessible. I think Jones’s voice would improve by spending some time writing strictly metered poetry with rhyme schemes for a while. His reliance on free verse allows him to freely write his heart out, but also leads to too many extraneous words, sloppy meter, and weak rhymes. That’s the problem with one of Jones’s other favorite poets, Walt Whitman: too many people like him, but too few have his touch. By setting some rules like “14 lines, ten syllables per line” and “a-b-a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d-c-d-c-d,” Jones will have to use his noodle to come up with good words that fit in small spaces. He’ll also find that the poems will read exponentially better. They’ll also be easier for people to remember and recite.

So there it is. Jones’s first book is a nice little effort. It’s no Harvard Book Review winner, but he has written a few sweet things. It’s a good start for a rookie writer. Years from now, with practice, study, and discipline – read, read, read, then write, write, write – Jones could be a much improved and respected poet. He’s been to Harvard and Stanford. He could handle a Masters of Fine Arts course of study at a major university and the formal training will sharpen his skills and augment his observant eye and passionate heart. I’ll leave you with an example, an untitled poem that appears poignantly near another titled “Father’s Day,” and ask you this question, “If he touched your heart with these lines, has he not succeeded as a poet?”

Look at me.

Do you see yourself in my eyes?

I see my father, the dreamer,

Who, when his time comes

Will float out on his own dream

To Him who dreamt him.

See you from Snore-y Pines.

[All sections of poems are (c) Robert Trent Jones, Jr., 1999-2008, All rights reserved.]