There are many ways to describe Charles Simic. One could say he's a simple man, a funny man or even a literary genius. But if there's one thing Simic is not, despite being the United States' 15th Poet Laureate Consultant, it is a pretentious man.
He simply answered "No,'' when asked if he had any advice for up-and-coming poets, saying that it would be presumptuous of him to offer any advice. "If you love everything your elders have done, you don't have a chance,'' Simic added, encouraging young writers to think critically.
Born in Belgrade in 1938, Simic started writing poetry in high school and realized during his last semester that he was a poet. He moved to Chicago with his mother in 1954 and then came to New York City four years later.
"My first fall in New York was deliciously lonely,'' the poet recalled. "But I couldn't go back to Chicago because my friends would have said 'We told you so.'"
By the time he was 21, Simic had his first poem published and was well on his way to becoming one of the greatest poets of his time. Forty-nine years later, in 2007, Simic was appointed Poet Laureate and in January 2008 he began his semester as Baruch College's Harman Writer-in-Residence.
At a poetry reading on Tuesday, March 18, Simic was introduced by English Professor Grace Schulman as "one of the best poets writing in English today."
"To enter into his world is to change the way you look at the world," said Schulman, a renowned poet who met Simic during their New York University days.
When the time came for him to speak, Simic stood up to enthusiastic applause and stepped up to the lectern. His ease was immediately apparent as he started off by saying, "First of all, let me take off my jacket … it's hot in here!"
He fumbled for a few steps looking around the empty stage for a place on which to set down his jacket until English Professor Roslyn Bernstein, who created the Harman Writer-in-Residence series, offered to take it.
Once truly ready, Simic discussed his background, but focused on his poems. "I'm only talking because I was asked to talk," he said with a smile, referring back to Bernstein's request that he not only read his poems but discuss them.
The poet's simplicity was apparent in the way he stood, hands usually rested on the lectern or holding his red paperback, Sixty Poems, which he held with the front cover folded back. He spoke in conversational tones and read in a smooth and slightly accented voice that captivated the audience and kept all eyes on him.
Occasionally, he paused to take a sip of water, but maintained the flow of his presentation by weaving back and forth between his written works and artful speaking. "[The words] that roll off his tongue are so fashioned-through that if I was one of our student writers, I'd carry a notebook around behind him to catch them as they fall," said Schulman in her introduction.
Like dutiful students, every member of the audience followed along, at times chuckling at the comical lines found in Simic's poems, while laughing whole-heartedly at the stories he told.
Simic shared his stories as if he had been sitting around with a group of friends including his planetarium experience that was the inspiration for his poem, "In the Planetarium."
What revealed the most about the laureate were the answers he provided to some of the audience members' questions. In the same way he had to remove his jacket before, Simic was unperturbed by having to change the batteries of his hearing aid before answering queries.
It was a seemingly insignificant detail, but Simic said it is the little moments that he draws inspiration from. "He turns ordinary objects into the magical," said Schulman.
"Poets usually have plans, they'll tell you 'My next poem will be about this and that.' But I react to events. I watch TV, I read the papers, things happen to me, words come into my head," said Simic.
"You can't escape the world, and there would be no point; the world is too much fun," he said a little later while discussing the political references found in some of his poems.
Simic would have no reason to look for an escape. As Poet Laureate, he goes around the country for readings and talks, doing what he loves.
He admits, however, that no one can live on poetry alone and not solely because of financial reasons. "I don't want to write poetry all the time; it's boring!"
Luckily for him, he now has something to distract him: classes to teach. Luckily for Baruch students and faculty, they have an entire semester to rake in the words of this brilliant writer.
Fear Charles Simic
Fear passes from man to man Unknowing, As one leaf passes its shudder To another. All at once the whole tree is trembling And there is no sign of the wind.
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