A RHETORIC OF INDETERMINACY: THE POETRY OF MARGARET ATWOOD AND ROBERT BLY R. ALEXANDER KIZUK University of Lethbridge I n the poetry of both Margaret Atwood and Robert Bly, the reader may find that the most surprising tropic strategies are those that disrupt representa tions of gender. These disruptions are, however, instances that occur under a larger category of representations of relationships between the human and the non-human. In these poets’ work, gender is a powerful metaphor point ing toward an otherness that is other than we know. What we accept as “human” is always defined under some set of cultural codes; desire, how ever, being the one part of ourselves that always escapes cultural coding, remains for us our connection to alterity. Behind tropes of the woman-other and the man-other in this poetry lies a rhetoric of indeterminacy in which gender becomes the vehicle for rather than the object of signification. Atwood and Bly have been writing compelling poetry for North American audiences for over a quarter of a century. Readers of contemporary poetry in the Unites States and Canada have become acquainted with the strange and at times savage other-worldliness of these two poets. Both poets, however, have suffered in their reputations as poets by the too easy pigeon-holing of the professor and the cameraman — critics and the media.1 Robert Bly the protest poet, Margaret Atwood the feminist, these labels became attached to the poets and their work in the late 1960s and early 1970s. More specifi cally, the label for Atwood became popular with the publication of her novel The Edible Woman (1969) and her poetic sequence Power Politics (1971). The labelling process in Bly’s case started during his anti-war activities in the 1960s, which culminated poetically with The Light Around the Body (1967) and Teeth Mother Naked at Last (1970). Who could forget his Ac ceptance Speech on receiving the National Book Award for Poetry in 1968? As Bly was given the award and a $1000 check, he upbraided the National Book Committee and all American institutions for not taking their part in preserving the nation and not taking the risk of “committing acts of dis obedience” (15). After doing so, still on stage, Bly accepted the award but handed the check to one of the leaders of anti-war protest. More recently, of course, Bly has become a spokesperson and often a Master of Ceremonies for a male consciousness-raising movement in the United States and Canada— a English Stu d ies in Ca n a d a , 23, 2, June 1997 sort of Betty Friedman for 1990s’ males. Both Atwood and Bly have adopted writing as a man or writing as a woman as a rhetorical strategy. This gen dered rhetoric is not, however, devoid of ambivalence and an awareness of the limits that these discursive positions place on them politically and aes thetically. Many readers have come to associate Atwood’s poetic with an icily cruel gender-sensitivity of image that is readily demonstrated in the famous motto to Power Politics: you fit into me like a hook into an eye a fish hook an open eye (111)2 The speaker of Power Politics, a book-length series of anti-love poems, is caught in a relationship in which the male lover has control over the woman speaker: “You have the earth’s nets / I have only a pair of scissors” (141). The emotional contract between the lovers is continually under negotiation. The male lover is, or at least partakes of, the Other. In the sequence, the male lover represents what cannot be included in any definition of the fe male Self. He is not static, however. He evolves (or devolves) from relatively simple caricature in the beginning of the sequence — “you hang suspended above the city / in blue tights and a red cape, / your eyes flashing in uni son” (114)— to an ominous sense of nothingness or sheer being that robs the woman speaker not only of identity but also of any sense of being in the world: you are not a bird you do not fly you axe not an animal you do...
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