Howl, for Carl Solomon

Last weekend, J (the boyfriend) and I went to see Howl at Avon Cinema in Providence. First things first: Avon is tucked between restaurants on College Hill, with room enough to show one movie at a time on its single screen. It offers a refreshing dose of old-fashioned charm, complete with a marquee outside that lists the names and showtimes of its indie films in bold, sans-serif letters. When I was at school I would routinely swing up Thayer just to pass Avon, hoping an artsy or historical movie might be playing next. And last weekend, Howl fit the bill.

In 1956, an as-yet unknown Allen Ginsberg published his poem "Howl, for Carl Solomon," with a number of other poems through a San Francisco bookstore. The poem (and its publisher, Lawrence Ferlinghetti) were subsequently put on trial for obscenity. Granted, it's a dense, angry poem, full of vibrant language that makes me cringe. Ginsberg doesn't back down from what he wants to say and how to say it. It's easy to see how it could offend some people. But ironically, the obscenity trial essentially publicized the poem much better than Ferlinghetti's bookstore alone could, and it introduced America to the so-called Beat Generation. Howl captures this critical moment.

This is an awesome film. It's easy for a poem or a piece of literature or a saying to become entrenched in pop culture, so much so that you stop thinking about what it originally meant. Howl does the exact opposite. It breaks the poem down into animated "illuminations" (a la William Blake?), throws in a reenactment of the original reading of the poem, and shifts seamlessly between poetry, the trial, and a classic interview with Ginsberg (played here by dreamy James Franco). It completely immerses you in the world of the poem.

I first came across the Beats in high school. We had to write a major research paper for our American history class, and our textbook had allotted a whole exciting paragraph to the Beats. So I wrote my paper on "Howl." (I didn't realize when I chose it just how earthy it can get. A shock to sheltered, high-school Abby.) I met Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac and William S. Burroughs and Neal Cassidy, and I read about their Benzedrine-fueled writing sessions with a sickened fascination. Part of me envied their impassioned collective, part of me felt like I was watching a car crash in slow motion. The Beats don't have a particularly savory history.

But I got to know that poem like I'd never known any piece of literature. I learned how history can influence literature and the other way around. I read about Ginsberg's youth and felt his rage leak out through the lines of the poem. It's a beautiful poem.

The movie brings that all back. It almost makes you live inside that poem. You forget you're in a darkened theater. And it feels fitting to be watching it on a single screen, with curtains on either side, a relic brought back to life for a new generation.

Read the full text of "Howl:" http://howlthemovie.com/poem/

Introductions

Hi. I'm Abby. This is my gathering of days: a collection of sights, sounds, thoughts, and stories that I'd like to share with you.

Really, the main reason I'm doing this is to start writing on a regular basis again. Like a lot of would-be writers, I let my love of words be pushed aside by other interests (in this case, American history, busy college life, and a surprising decision to learn how to teach), and for a while they were enough. But lately, I've been missing writing. Missing the feeling of losing myself in some other place and idea. So I'm starting slow, with this blog as my practice ring. I hope you'll come along for the ride.

About the Name
A Gathering of Days is most famously the title of Joan W. Blos' Newbery-winning novel, which chronicles two years in the life of a girl living in nineteenth century America. I just love the imagery of it: it makes me think of a basket full of days, kept close to sift through in quiet moments.

(And yes, all right, I'm a history nerd.)