Review: Limited Verse, David Martin

Would you rather be loved or respected? David Martin’s new book, Limited Verse, made me ask the question as I read. It is a series of well known poems written in New English, which has only 850 root words. There is a thoughtful story explaining the transportation of words from the old, big group to limited new group, written by a man going to prison. He will no longer have Old English. He will no longer have words that are not roots.

This transportation of words from the old group to the new group has value. It’s also a pain in the ass, and I can’t do it anymore. I don’t now how Martin did it for a whole book – even a short one. I couldn’t do it for much more than a paragraph. It’s maddening. Trying to limit your ideas to the confines of 850 base words cramps your ideas. If you can’t express something, you drop it. Your ideas stay inside you and eventually die. Heart wrenching, frustrating, frightening.

Which makes Limited Verse challenging to love, but demanding of respect.

At first, I read this book the way one watches figure skating. Wow. That’s cool. The trick of writing within a highly limited lexicon is impressive. Martin translates, amongst others, Gertrude Stein, Carl Sandburg, or William Shakespear (who made words up ‘cuz there weren’t enough for him) with aplomb. Maintaining meanings, even as the rich imagery fades (to no fault of his own) billows out the breadth of the book. As the level of difficulty increases, and the greats begin to slip on the ice, you realize this silly, ill-mannered, hodgepodge, potluck old English language is a deep and wonderful gift.

We can think a lot and freely. I love this book for reminding me of that fact. Respect.