Norman Mailer, Poetic Lion in Winter

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun

Earlier this week, a poetry reading by Norman Mailer drew a respectful crowd – but an earlier recitation of his verse nearly caused a riot.


In February 1961, education director for the Young Men’s Hebrew Association, William Kolodney, dropped the curtain on Mr. Mailer (due to the latter’s profanity). A riotous outcry in defense of Mailer ensued. Audience member Allen Ginsberg emphasized his displeasure by banging on bongo drums.


The New York Times reported on that brouhaha, and printed Mr. Mailer’s retort to Kolodney that “an administrator is no judge of literature” and Kolodney’s response. He agreed, but wittily replied that he had not been judging literature.


Unterberg Poetry Center director David Yezzi referred to this incident in his introduction of Mr. Mailer this week, noting that the writer has made a number of uncontroversial (or, at least, less controversial) appearances at the 92nd Street Y.


Mr. Yezzi said when Kolodney lowered the curtain, the rebellious Mr. Mailer re-emerged in front to read one last poem. “Tonight,” Mr. Yezzi said, pausing to look out at the audience, “I promise you the curtain will remain raised during Mr. Mailer’s reading.”


J. Michael Lennon, author of “Norman Mailer: Works and Days,” briefly spoke next: “No one since Edgar Allan Poe has been so simultaneously celebrated and reviled than Norman Mailer,” he said.


Mr. Lennon, who was Mr. Mailer’s interlocutor that evening, cryptically said Mr. Mailer was “now working on a long narrative, the subject of which is secret.”


Mr. Mailer appeared in the auditorium wearing a brown vest zipped over a denim shirt. “Novelists,” he said, “are fundamentally of the working class. He continued in a gravely clipped voice, “We novelists are true working stiffs and, when we were young, we looked down on the poets” with their perceived “airs.”


Mr. Mailer said he is a subscriber to Poetry magazine. “I subscribed two years ago. I wanted to see how my poetry of the ’60s stood up against what’s being done now – I even received a letter of rejection from the editor. It was so nicely written, I didn’t mind,” he said, to audience amusement.


“When it comes to my poetry, I felt like a high school athlete. I wrote my poems and there was no coach out there with a gleam in his eye” encouraging him, he said. Referring to the drawings in his book “Modest Gifts: Poems and Drawings” (Random House), which were projected on a large screen, Mr. Mailer said, “I’ve been married to two intensely talented painters [Adele Morales Mailer and Norris Church Mailer], so I’m modest about my own artwork.”


“These are the drawings of a novelist, not of a poet or a painter.” The drawings are captioned and are “in a no man’s land between caricatures and comic drawings,” he explained.


He unzipped his vest and retrieved a pair of reading glasses. “My poems often are elevated jokes – sometimes not even elevated. They have the advantage of being easy to follow.” They covered topics like marriage, labor, love, and the Mafia.


“Now we come to the high point of the evening,” he said, when reading the poem “To the Ghost of Senator Joe,” which had so distressed Kolodney in 1961.


After finishing it, he said, “You see what an innocuous poem it is?”


“Mr. Mailer told me he hoped there would be some political questions this evening, and indeed there are,” Mr. Lennon said, holding aloft cards on which audience members had written queries.


Mr. Mailer asked if the audience wanted most answers to pertain to literary or political matters. The latter received louder “Ayes!”


“In one word,” the first question inquired, “Why are we in Iraq?” Pondering the terms of the question, Mr. Mailer countered, “Can we negotiate?” Then he said a single word, “Empire,” to applause.


The next question was, “Are we in as much trouble as a nation as I think we are?” Mr. Mailer said, “To that, I can unreservedly answer in one word, ‘Yes!'”


At a reception following the program, Mr. Mailer’s longtime literary assistant Judith McNally, wearing a handkerchief-hemmed black skirt, talked with Anne Barry, who had preceded her. Also seen were Tisch Center for the Arts Governing Board member John Greenwood, talking with costume designer Catherine Barinas. Many Mailer relatives attended, including Mr. Mailer’s nephew, Peter Alson; son John Buffalo Mailer; Matt Mailer, who is adapting Norris Church Mailer’s novel “Windchill Summer” into a screenplay; Colin Campbell; and Elizabeth Mailer, who is working on a novel about a married woman’s midlife crisis.


Also seen were writer Dotson Rader; poet Joel Whitney; Arlen Richard Lessen of Wilkes University, and Provincetown Art Commission Chair man Stephen Borkowski. Mr. Mailer ended his stage appearance with a recitation of doggerel he fancied as a Brooklyn youth: Why would the masses kiss the asses of the Upper Classes? It ain’t healthy. To which, most gave a healthy laugh.


The New York Sun

© 2024 The New York Sun Company, LLC. All rights reserved.

Use of this site constitutes acceptance of our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. The material on this site is protected by copyright law and may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached or otherwise used.

The New York Sun

Sign in or  Create a free account

or
By continuing you agree to our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use