ANON. INTERVIEW


Over several weeks, Octopus engaged in an e-mail interview with the anonymous editor of Anon. (www.anon.be), a literary journal that is not only edited and published anonymously, but that also only accepts anonymous submissions. (A note on the interview format: In this first Octopus interview, the editors collaborated on offering three possible options for each of the 8 questions they desired for the interviewee to answer. No one likes a fascist.)


Octopus asks Question 1.
a) You describe Anon. as an "experiment without preconceived hypotheses"; do you feel too many other journals have preconceived hypotheses (or expected outcomes) that hinder their development?  If so, please explain.

b) Has any one act of anonymity, particularly a public one such as your own, inspired you? If so, what? And what about that anonymity turns you on?

c) Often, a new journal will aim to correct or counterbalance tendencies they see in the field--that is, a "New Formalist" journal may want to serve as a foil to sloppy free verse, etc.  Do you feel your journal serves such a role, and if so, can you cite specific examples of tendencies you want to correct or counter?

 

Anon. answers:
Your innovative and sound method of interviewing has one drawback: I wanted very much to attempt to answer all three of these questions, and the resulting indecision caused a significant delay, for which I apologize. Finally, I think I'll attack Option C.

Anon. was founded on a big question mark that punctuated a series of heated debates between myself and some friends who are all in one way or another engaged members of poetry communities. As is often true about heated debates, the topics that managed to raise our collective bile were fundamentally banal: the petty infighting that infects the generally supportive (perhaps overly supportive) small press & "experimental" poetry scenes; the strange status of fame, power, and the cult of personality in a basically marginal arena; the fact that criticism that is actually critical is more likely to be directed at the politics of poetry publishing than at the work itself (and that poetry reviews often read more like gratuitous writing samples for the reviewer than thoughtful gifts to the public or the poet); etc. Nothing that hasn't been discussed to death already, and nothing from which we could fully excuse ourselves or our nearest and dearest. (In fact, our very conversation made us guilty as charged.) How, we wondered, could poetry be encountered differently? The question then became, quite simply, would any writer struggling to make a name for him or herself in this beautifully non-remunerative vocation be attracted to the idea of publishing work that he or she values in a form that would do nothing to raise the value, such as it is and can be, of that name? And would anybody be interested in reading such work, or reviewing it, without first being able to place the poet in the contemporary matrix of movements, schools, fads, and cliques? Without going into too much detail—this is only question number 1, after all—I can say that so far, the idea of Anon. has attracted much enthusiastic response in the form of supportive and engaged letters from editors and other fans, and not much in the way of work that we really want to publish. A note sent to Anon. today via the anonymous submissions e-mail address read:

My question to these (much appreciated) people is, have you sent a poem to Anon.? If not, why not? (If so, thank you.) So, strictly speaking, the primary tendency that Anon. was invented to counteract was the tendency among readers to look first at the table of contents or contributor's notes of a journal, or the blurbs on the back of a book of poems. But, not to cheat by partially answering questions 1 and 2, I feel compelled to say that Anon. was not founded on cynicism. Frustration, yes, in part. But far more important was the hope that it might possibly "work"-that some genuinely exciting illegitimate writing might enter the world with Anon. as its midwife.

 

Octopus asks Question 2:
a) So, it seems, according to you, the poetry community has developed an automatic positive response to anything our most revered poets produce. The poem is loved before it is read, or it is even published before it is read, in place of the brilliant poem perhaps from the unknown writer. How bad is the problem of revered poets publishing crap? Is it a plague? Do you dare name any? (I would, but they might be you).

b) Do you have fears then of Anon. becoming a different kind of brand name, a brand or school of poetry, like one might say a Slope or a New Yorker or an Octopus type of poetry (even though such distinctions are pointless, blah, blah)?  Or do you think the anonymous aspect causes a sort of communications breakdown between members of a school (a poet can't say: aha! they publish Rhymey McRhymer, so they'll probably publish me too)?

c) If you were a superhero, say Anonoman or Anonowoman, or ever more appropriate, Anonoperson, what would your superpower be? How would the people react to you? What would your day job be? Who would be your arch nemesis?

 

Anon. answers:
b) Actually, I don't lose any sleep over revered poets publishing crap. It seems to me that there is an awful lot of poetry, both interesting and not, being published by everyone from unknown poets to MacArthur Fellows these days.  I believe that many of these poems (though I would be curious to know the percentage) are selected anonymously and published in good faith based on the honest interest of an editor in a poet's work-a judgment I by no means reserve only for work that is selected "blindly."  I also think it is perfectly natural for a given publication to have a particular aesthetic bent (if it ever gets enough submissions to really pick and choose, some kind of bent will surely emerge from the pages of Anon.), and for unknown writers to choose which journals they submit to based on the poetry those journals publish. I don't think that all publishing should be anonymous or even unpartisan. But it seems to me that in order to keep readers, editors, and writers from becoming lazy, it is necessary to vary the way in which poetry is presented and encountered. Every writer should be susceptible to a blind response on occasion-and if unsigned publication were a more common occurrence, it might diminish the kind of blanket approval or dismissal that is regularly tossed over poems in The New Yorker or in a stapled zine, depending on the reader's aesthetic. As for the professional critics, wouldn't it be great to see a full article in the New York Review of Books analyzing a year's worth of New Yorker poetry, or that of a single zine? In any case, I don't think that we at Anon. are the only ones who see the need for some checks and balances in the system. I have noticed several contemporary journals that are, in various ways and to varying degrees, separating poets' names from their poems. I recently came across a journal that simply lists the names of the authors next to the titles of their poems on the contents page. The rest of the journal is name free. There are no page numbers, the order of the poems does not correspond to the order of the names on the Contents page, and one poet's poems might be scattered throughout the volume. The information about who wrote what is all there, but it requires some page-flipping and cross-referencing on the part of the reader-who, in the meantime, is practically forced to encounter the poems without knowing who wrote them.

 

Octopus asks Question 3:
a) Do you think encountering a poem sans name intensifies the reader's experience of the poem, like looking more closely at a bug one doesn't know the name of?  Do you find yourself overly predisposed for or against a poem if you know the name attached to it?

b) Many readers of poetry seem interested in classifying poems by poet, I think, so that we can then in turn classify ourselves, identify ourselves by stocking up our own bookshelves with every one of his/her titles, promote our heroes at parties: "James Tate is a God--I own all his books," we'd say. If, theoretically, the system was run mostly anonymously, could we lose our passion for the poet, our fandom, our own sense of identity, the sale of books?

c) Would Anon. consider publishing anonymous critical work?  

 

Anon. answers:
c) Anonymous criticism? If it is smart, provocative, or otherwise appealing, I think it is an interesting idea. Of course, unsigned book reviews are not uncommon-for instance, the short capsule reviews in the New Yorker and in Publisher's Weekly-but in these cases the "anonymous" individual is (rightly or wrongly) taken as a mouthpiece for the publication, and, I think, comes to be identified with it. A trend of truly anonymous criticism of (non-anonymous) works could potentially invigorate the practice of criticism, at least for the obvious reason that it would remove some common problems related to the social nature of the so-called poetry world (e.g., How can I give an honest critique of a book by my friend/lover/enemy/teacher/student?) Any criticism of anonymous works is intriguing, as it removes not only the critic's ability to consider a poet's reputation or past works, but also his or her ability to make interpretations based on several works by the "same author." Of course, I don't see why all or most criticism should be conducted this way. But I confess I particularly like the idea of anonymous criticism of anonymous works. How would such a review read?  How would or could the work be contextualized? How would or could the reader contextualize the critique? After choosing to publish do- re-, the first chapbook from Anon. Books, with the benefit of only a few other readers (Anon.'s associate editors), I can say that I would be thrilled to read an anonymous review of it. Perhaps you would like to write one? (Note to self: send the nice Octopus people a few copies of do- re- right now!)

 

Octopus asks Question 4:
I think we would feel awkward reviewing do- re-, if only because we're the ones who wrote it.  But seriously, we'd love to see it.  First, we have questions:

a) What are the 8 best books of poetry ever published? AND/OR explain why you couldn't/shouldn't possibly answer this question as an editor of an anonymous press.

b) Do you find the practical issues of getting work and distributing the magazine more difficult with your premise?

c) The poet who publishes anonymously does not get the benefit of beefing up the resume, which might make it more difficult to land that good teaching job or to get paid for readings at colleges. Putting ego/fame aside, how do you address the monetary issues that might punish the poet who publishes anonymously? Would Anon. ever consider prizes for anonymous manuscripts?

 

Anon. answers:
c) Publishing anonymously is clearly not a career move, nor is it a way to get rich. (On this note, I can answer the two questions posed in [b] with a resounding "yes, yes.") When the Anon. site first went up on the web, a few irate e-mails arrived from people who seemed to be involved with, or at least big fans of, a U.K.-based journal called Nemonymous, which publishes its contents 'anonymously' but then divulges the identities of the authors in subsequent issues of the magazine. Besides accusing Anon. of stealing Nemonymous' concept, the writers of these e-mails claimed that Anon. was stealing the intellectual property of the writers it publishes and depriving them of royalties. One person actually said that he looked forward to Anon. getting "sued out of existence." Which is funny, since Anon. is a fiscally ludicrous labor of love that never stands to break even, let alone make a profit. But in this way Anon. is in the same position as most poets-who, if you take into account the number of hours they spend on poetry versus the money they make, directly or indirectly, from it, also don't stand to break even, let alone make a profit. It is my feeling that poets who publish anonymously contribute to an alternative economy in which they can emerge from the underclass to which the "real" economy relegates them.  They can be bearers of gifts rather than competitors for grants and jobs. Ultimately, all Anon. wants to do is to create a position for poetry outside of the economies of identity, money, jobs, what-have-you. Why? Because we love found art. Because those economies rule almost every minute of our lives, so why not knock a few chinks into the chain? The value of surprise is non-negotiable, isn't it? But your questions are good ones, and maybe my statements of principle haven't addressed them, so practically speaking: Of course we don't want to punish anyone or deprive any poets of the few dollars that might potentially come their way. We don't publish full-length manuscripts or novels or any other large-scale work that might actually make or break a person's career. We publish chapbooks and (if we ever get enough serious submissionsÉ) a journal. I don't believe that one poem or even one chapbook will make the difference between getting the job or not for most poets. We don't pay for poems, but neither do many small journals and presses, for the simple reason that they can't afford to. We wouldn't run a contest because, besides the logistical difficulties of pulling such a stunt and retaining anonymity on all sides, contests are strange beasts that feed into some of the aspects of publishing that Anon. is attempting to challenge. As I construe them, most contests amount to the community of poets (people who pay contest-entry fees) pooling together their (presumably limited) resources to benefit the single poet who wins the prize. This might be a very good way for communities to support their members, actually. But the role of the publisher is suspect here, for two reasons: first, the publisher acts as judge and governor of this community, without being a member of it (contest judges and juries don't themselves contribute to the pool); and second, even if the publisher turns around and gives most or all of the entry-fee money to the winning poet, the real winner year after year is the publisher, who gains a kind of legitimacy by becoming the kind of press that can "afford" to offer the big money. Better manuscripts follow, then better reviews, then more grant money, etc. All built on those entry fees. Because of the nature of its project, Anon. is not interested in the same kind of growth or profile-building. Anon.'s sole ambition is to add surprise to our lives and jostle our notions of value by fostering a gift-based practice of writing, reading, and publishing poetry. So monetarily speaking, it neither gives nor takes away.

 

Octopus asks Question 5:
a) I have to agree that withholding author names then revealing them later seems like more of a marketing ploy than a serious questioning of any literary norms--can you describe how, for you personally, the act of reading/editing is altered by using and sticking to an anonymous format?

b) If Anon. is not interested in the same kind of growth or profile-building as other presses/journals, where do you see Anon. in say 8 years? 16?

c) Can you quote a passage, or entire poem, from Anon., and explain what compelled you to accept it for publication?

 

Anon. answers:
b) I'm happy to have the chance to respond to this question, in part because of a strange thing that happened the other day. Someone recently sent me an e-mail alerting me to the fact that there is "another ANON" in England. I went to its Web site and found that its editorial policy is to read and select blindly, but that the authors' names do appear in the finished journal. Its tag-line is "a poetry magazine that doesn't care who you aren't," and its introductory remarks include the statement, "We hope you agree that Anon's stance - anonymous submission, anonymous assessment - is a valuable and long overdue innovation." I think its editorial policy is admirable (though hardly innovative) and so I linked to its site from ours. The next day I received an e-mail from the editor of that Anon suggesting that there was some sort of conflict of interest in the unfortunate fact that our journals share a name. Wrongly assuming that his Anon predated ours, he intimated that we might have something to work out between us. His reasoning was that his journal was already receiving "attention" and that ours surely would also receive "attention" and that this might cause confusion. Thinking through my response to him, I realized just how drastically different our projects really are. Although this Anon. was inspired in part by responses to certain issues related to publishing (which I have been trying to outline in this interview), it is really more of a conceptual project than an "innovative" press or journal. To me it is obvious that since the word "Anonymous" and its abbreviation "Anon." have been used to refer to countless unknown individuals in the past, there is no reason why they shouldn't be able to refer to multiple presses or journals. I would be thrilled to see lots of anonymous publishing projects cropping up, and I would find it natural for them to use the title or press name "Anon." The fact that the editor of the "other" Anon is so concerned with "attention" and "confusion" indicates to me that he is not interested in anonymity at all. Doesn't anonymity have a lot to do with deferring attention? I would like for anonymous publishing to receive attention as a phenomenon, and I would like of course for our Anon. to get more great work in the mail which we could then put out in anonymous books and journals (because that act is satisfying). But I don't have any interest in owning the concept or name of Anon. That would be absurd, wouldn't it? So, to answer your question, I see two potential futures for Anon. On the one hand, it may turn out that my associate editors and I have the commitment and luck to keep Anon. going for years, and that it will become a viable way for writers to publish and distribute work that they wish to give to the world anonymously. On the other hand, perhaps this old idea will catch on again and numerous nameless editors, publishers and writers will be printing and distributing anonymous poetry in 2, 8, or 16 years. Either of these outcomes, or some combination of them, would constitute a welcome addition to current modes of writing, reading, and thinking about poetry.

 

Octopus asks Question 6:
a) Excuse me for the oversimplification of adjectives here, but do you think your good submission to bad submission ratio is worse off than other presses? Why? Are good poets reluctant to send you good poems? In your estimation, how bad is this "problem"?

b) Have you considered pursuing the anonymous concept into other fields, such as art, film, music, porn, etc.?

c) How anonymous are you? How many people can identify you as the editor of an anonymous press? How do/would you feel personally about taking your anonymous editorship to the grave? Do you feel a responsibility to inform some people? Even to continue your legacy?

 

Anon. answers:
a) You wouldn't believe how many bad (no need for distancing quotes here) submissions are sent to Anon., especially over e-mail. But I can't say with certainty that our ratio is worse than other magazines. I do find that few of the submissions are very exciting to me as poetry. Especially not the pornographic ones that are, apparently, meant to excite. It has been a big problem for the journal, as evidenced by the fact that we have not as yet gathered enough interesting material for Issue #1. The chapbook submissions have, on the other hand, almost all contained compelling work that I presume the writer holds valuable. The very first chapbook submission that showed up in our P.O. box was a collection of quite beautiful prose poems and came with a collaged (ransom-note-style) cover letter that said something like "don't you want this little book to give to the people". I found it very touching. Sadly, after I had typeset the whole book I found out who the author was and had to pull the project.
     
Without knowing who is aware of Anon.—how many poets, which poets, where they are, how they find out—it's impossible for me to speculate very much about the reasons for the quality of the submissions. But if there are a lot of serous poets out there who know about Anon. and aren't submitting, of course I'd be curious to know why. Anyone?

 

Octopus asks Question 7:
a) Do you see the concept of an anonymous text as being related to the concept of an authorless text? I mean, can the impulse behind Anon. be interpreted as a response to poems that are the limited, often predictable and pre—designed products of poetic personalities and personas?

b) Do people try to...look behind your curtain? How do you feel about that?

c) Would you be pleased or disappointed to find out a piece published in Anon. was the product of collaboration, collage, or some strange intermingling of the above, that the anonymous "author" was not in fact an author but something else outside the realm of authorship?

 

Anon. answers:
c) Before the invention of the printing press almost every poem was a semi-anonymous collaboration, whether or not it was attributed to a single author. Distribution via hand-copied manuscripts allowed each reader to revise at will, to take place in the editing process of the poem. Publishing anonymous works today also encourages reader—engagement, though in a different way: Without a persona to attach to the anonymously published poem, the contemporary reader can read it and evaluate/appreciate/critique it in a social vacuum, as it were -- that is, without having to wonder what it means to be criticizing, admiring, or revising so-and-so's work. It seems that one reaction to the structuralist and poststructuralist challenges to the notion of authorship has been an expansion, rather than a collapse, of the Author's ego. To use collage—poems as an example, writers who use collage techniques (of which I'm very fond, by the way) are often extra eager to attach their names to their products, along with working notes and theoretical treatises. I suppose that is because collage work and found poetry are considered to be more or less conceptual projects, allowing the "conceiver" unambiguous access to authorship. Maybe that is what editorial anonymity is partially about.  Anon. is certainly a conceptual project -- in a sense, all Anon. does is publish found poetry and discuss ideas with people over e-mail --  but it is one that won't ever be listed on any artist's or poet's resume. So, if someone sends us a found poem, or a collage, or a poem composed from scratch, we are in a sense following Duchamp by placing it "as is" into a literary context in which it is read as a poem. But it was Duchamp's signature on the urinal that made it count as art, while we "sign" only with a mark of a concept, Anon. So it is really wholly up to the reader to decide if a poem that appears in Anon. should count as a poem--whether it was written by one voice or many, whether it was conjured by a machine or a formula.

 

Octopus asks Question 8:
a) Who would win in a fight between the anonymous contributor and the anonymous editor? To clarify, which is more essential to accelerate the cause?

b) Does your mom know what you're doing?

c) Which question, out of the previous 21, were you most eager to avoid? Why?

 

Anon. Answers:
a) (with a little bit of c) They would wrestle each other to the ground, which would open up and release them back into the abyss.... Actually, one thing I have realized from answering your questions is that anonymity of author and editor/s are equally essential to this project. (I prefer "project" to "cause.") I think it's fair to say that anonymity has the twofold potential to add to or detract from a persons's power in a given situation. In the situation of writing, Anon. aims to level the field for authors, editors and readers. The anonymously published, anonymously written text effectively challenges notions of authority as well as of authorship.
    

If I have consistently avoided your questions directly addressing my own anonymity and the curiosity about my identity that might arise from it, that is only because I wanted to keep the focus on anonymity, not on me or my anonymity. Maybe someone out there reading this will be inspired to impersonate me. Maybe there are other anonymous editors out there whom I am impersonating without realizing it. The beauty of the mark "Anon." is that it can refer to one person or many, to an idea, an argument, or a stance. Like "John Doe," it can be applied forcibly to a person whose identity is unknown; but it can also be used by a person or entity wishing to keep his, her or its identity unfixed. Anonymity, in other words, is for everyone.