Stephan Delbos: "There is something happening here with English language writers"
You studied literature at university.
I studied American literature, poetry and writing. I studied in Prague for a year so I did study some Czech literature and part of my master’s studies was focused on Czech poetry, Jaroslav Seifert specifically. Most of my contact with Czech literature is non-academic, through my own curiosity, however.
Where did that curiosity stem from?
During the year I studied in Prague I started to get into some Czech poets and I guess Seifert was the first one that I was really introduced to, and from then on the momentum gathered. As a writer and somebody who is interested in literature I don’t understand how you can live somewhere and not be curious about the literature and the writers who have lived there.
So in your case it wasn’t this cliché of a writer coming to Prague for its genius loci?
I missed out on the whole Left Bank of the nineties thing – that was before my time. The main reason that I decided to study abroad was just because I wanted to get out of the context that I was in – the US. Not that I wanted to leave US for specifically political reasons, I just wanted to be in a new context.
What impression did you get from the Prague expat literary scene?
My initial impression was that the scene – if you really want to call it that – was polarized. On one side there were these readings like the Alchemy, an open mic series that had been going on for some time. That would be on once a month and for the most part it was basically a social event. On the other side there were the journals and publishers, people who’d been here longer and were writing and publishing serious work. There didn’t really seem to be any intersection between these two levels. Now it seems to me that they have come together a bit.
Louis Armand mentioned in an interview these waves of activity in Prague-based English-speaking literary scene and added that we might be experiencing another one right now. Would you say there is more activity now?
I think there is more activity now, in the last year or two, than in recent years. That’s partially why I say the the polarization has adjusted slightly. The very fact that we are doing this interview right now is a proof. There are more English speakers translating Czech writers now and I think Czech writers are beginning to take an interest in what’s going on with English language writers as well. Louis has been very active with Litteraria Pragensia and other projects, and I think that the Král Majáles anthology brought a lot of people out of the woodwork. They might have been living here and laying low and now that they’ve been published in the anthology they are coming to readings again. I would say this is not so much a third wave as a high tide – the culmination of the progress that has been made over twenty years.
Is there one decisive factor in this?
I think many individuals who are living here are working together. If you go to an open mike reading it’s a social thing but it’s also fleeting because you do your thing and it’s over. Publishers and editors have a different motivation because it’s permanent and it’s not completely solipsistic because you’re publishing other people’s work. I would say there have been several factors at work – There are more people who are thinking communally now and more people are interested in promoting literature and writing and not just promoting their own stuff. I think part of that critical mass is a general recognition, of which Louis’ anthology is the most physical example– that there is something happening here with English language writers and has been happening for a while. People seem to be realizing that we should take it a little more seriously or at least try to document it in some way.
How do you recollect your integration into the Prague literary scene?
Before I got here I searched online for Prague poetry readings and found the Alchemy. I can still remember going to my first Alchemy in a place that used to be called Kenny’s Island, near the Globe. It was in a basement and it was dark, smoky and dingy, and actually quite cool because of that. Ken Nash who does Alchemy was very welcoming. On the one hand it definitely felt like there was something happening, like I was entering a scene, but at the same time people were welcoming. That was great but then it was like how to move from the open mike to getting work published, and that was a longer route. There were several individuals who helped me out along the way, and pretty soon I had become the managing editor of The Prague Revue, which was this journal that was around in the nineties and it came back shortly a few years ago. It took a few years to really “integrate,” but ultimately, if you’re a writer you’re engaged in a pretty solitary activity.
You moved to editing and journalism. How does it work together with your creative writing?
The writers that I admire are not the poets who wrote one book and drank themselves to death. That might be cool but it’s not applicable as a model. I’ve always admired people who were writers and didn’t just write poetry but also wrote prose, fiction or criticism. Whether it’s poetry, prose, journalism, criticism – it’s all an expression of the same drive. Ultimately, I love poetry and literature and writing. Another consideration was the fact that I can earn a living as an editor, and I can’t earn a living writing poetry. I consider myself a promoter of poetry. I try to maintain a balance. Some days I feel like writing a book review, other days I feel like writing a poem.
Did you write before you came to Prague?
I’ve been writing since I was very young. A few years ago I found some old poems I had written at elementary school. One was about a scarecrow – it was pretty good! I also wrote short stories. When I was at high school I was into music, writing songs and playing in bands. When I got to college there was one teacher, Chard DeNiord, who is also a very good poet, who was very influential. That’s when I started to focus more on poetry.
Do you feel influenced by Prague as a city?
In some ways I do. If I want to write about Prague there’s so much to write about: Prague architecture, the history, the weather. At the same time we have telephones and computers so wherever we are we’re never stuck. I have certainly written poems that take place in Prague, but I think the way that Prague influences me is more in a psychological or sociological way than “I’m going to write a poem about Charles Bridge”. There’s nothing worse than another poem about Charles Bridge from someone who visited Prague for a weekend.
I’ve just edited an anthology of poems about Prague in sixteen languages from 1888 until 2010 by poets from all over the world. In a way, by putting together this anthology the title of which, From a Terrace in Prague, is taken from the title of an Ivan Blatný poem, I was paying my dues to Prague. And I’ve learned a great deal about how Prague is a perpetually inspiring city and seems to always have been. At the same time, the greatest poems I encountered were those that synthesized observation of scenery with deep, personal social or historical issues.
Prague is a great city, but how can you write a poem about how beautiful the city is when your Internet is on and a fighter jet just fell in Libya? Prague’s influence on me is not about living in a “magical” city. It’s about living outside of the US and having a more global view of what is happening in literature and the world.
Had you stayed in the US would you path have been similar?
I think I would definitely be writing. I would definitely not be the cultural editor of a newspaper. I might be teaching at a university…I think I would be doing the same things but in a smaller capacity. But more importantly, I believe my conception of the world – its realities, possibilities, mysteries and devastation – would not have been so forcibly widened if I hadn’t moved to Prague. That would of course have effects on both my life and my writing.
Can you talk about Rakish Angel, the hand-sewn limited edition poetry pamphlet series that you self-publish?
The next issue will be published in June. It will be a chapbook of 25 poems by Gil Fleischman, an amazing poet from New York City who has lived in Prague for some time. He keeps a low profile, but one of his poems was published in GRASP and five of his poems were in the first Rakish Angel. The chapbook is titled It’s Working.
Was it a conscious decision to make Rakish Angel a DIY publication?
It was. New York in the 1960s or 1970s had this really vibrant culture thanks to the so-called mimeograph revolution. Thanks to the mimeograph technology you could produce cheap magazines very easily. I wanted Rakish Angel to be published in small editions, not distributed or sold in stores - just for the community. It’s more interesting if you have to go the launch party to get a copy before they disappear. I wanted to make them myself but I also wanted them to be stylish so I decided to sew them together by hand. I don’t really know what motivates me to do it, because it takes a long time and I don’t profit from it, but it’s funny how a minimal amount of effort seems to give a publication authority. It’s strange to me that despite the web and internet publishing there’s still this mystique of having your poems published. Rakish Angel is fifteen pieces of paper, two staples and some thread. Books are only slightly better-crafted. Anyone can do it.
What’s the difference between editing The Prague Revue and Rakish Angel?
The Prague Revue had five editors, so any decisions had to be voted on. It definitely ensured the quality of each issue but it was a very slow process. I guess I just wanted my own little microphone. With Rakish Angel I choose the poems and poets. If there’s something I want to do I’ll just do it. It’s the shortest possible distance between a poem I hear and like and a poem that other people can read.
These days with Internet it’s so easy to publish anything. But you wanted it to be physical.
Yes. With poetry there’s always this argument that if you publish your work online many more people can read it, which is completely true. Nonetheless I don’t think anything is going to replace the physical act of having a book, magazine or newspaper in your hands, at least for me. I’m not really interested in making an online journal for reasons of community. With Rakish Angel I can host a reading where people come and I physically hand them an issue. Sending out a mass email that says “the new issue is now online” is a kind of an anticlimax.
Are you also working on your own poems?
I’m putting the finishing touches on a manuscript of poetry that will hopefully be published as a book. For the last year or so I’ve been working on a new book of poems which is organized around a specific style and concept. I’m also working on a play about a jazz trumpet player.
Is it difficult to juggle all these things?
Yes. I have a tendency to say yes to everything and then suddenly I’m working ninety hours a week, barely sleeping. At the beginning of the day I work on my own stuff then I work at the newspaper, then I teach and then at the end of the day I sometimes work on my own stuff again. I’m not sure I would want to sit around and write poems all day long, but I’d love it if I could make a living from writing alone.
There is this idealized idea of a poet who suddenly gets illuminated by an inspiration and that’s how his work is borne.
But that’s just one model. It’s not as glamorous, but for every example of a poet like Shelley or Rimbaud, Dylan Thomas or Mácha there’s another poet like Yeats, Ezra Pound, Richard Wilbur or Gerald Stern. These poets have lived a long life and some of them have written great poetry and some even their best poetry later in life. Rodin taught Rilke the importance of working steadily, with no regard for inspiration. David Byrne said something like “You’re not going to catch the bus unless you’re waiting at the bus stop”. In other forms of art we take it for granted: if you want to be a musician you have to practice, if you want to be a painter you have to learn how to paint. For some reason many people think that poetry is just free and you can do whatever you want. To a certain extent that is true, but ultimately poetry is a craft.
Do you also follow contemporary Czech poetry?
A little bit. There’re some poets who are going to be in From a Terrace in Prague. I’ve translated some of Kateřina Rudčenková’s and Milan Bouška’s work who was in Tvar a few months ago, as well as Radek Malý, Petr Král and a few others. There are certainly some amazing Czech poets writing now.
Still it’s amazing. There are people who have lived here much longer than you and don’t speak Czech at all.
Maybe I’m too blasé about translating but if I read a poem and feel that it just has to be translated, I’ll just do it myself. Translation seems to be about choices. You choose one word and that has an influence on every other word. I quite admire the Syrian poet Adonis who once commented on critics’ disparaging reviews of his translations by conceding that he may have made grammatical mistakes, but he was sure he hadn’t made any poetic mistakes.
What are your future plans?
To get rich and die in a plane full tigers… But no, there’s a lot happening in the next few months. In May we’ll have the book launch for From a Terrace in Prague during the Poetry Micro-Festival, which is happening together with the launch of the new issue of Psí víno as well as the launch of VLAK, which I co-edit with Louis Armand and David Vichnar, among others. I will be in the States this summer working on the play and I hope to have that produced next year. Also I’d like to have this book of poetry out somewhere in the next year. Besides that I’ll just continue reading, writing, teaching and trying to make good things happen.
Lucia Udvardyová
Audio
(Stephan Delbos recollects his initial impressions of the Prague English-speaking literary scene)
(Stephan Delbos´ working routine)
(Stephan Delbos on writing)
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