Leonard Cohen: The Paradox
The minds of great writers are often rife with contradiction, uncertainty, and paradox. Perhaps the quintessential example of a poet who embraces all of these things with an eager pen and an open mind is Leonard Cohen. Cohen has an uncanny ability to simultaneously express his distaste and adoration of the artist’s place in society. The reason that Cohen is so adept at describing these conflicting viewpoints is that while composing his works he assumes many different scripted roles. There are times when he is the cynical, independent, introvert who writes for his own selfish purposes and there are times when he sheds the confining role of the “Serious Artist” and becomes the wise, experienced teacher for a generation of fledgling artists. This shift is most notable in his two works entitled, “I Have Not Lingered In European Monasteries” (1965) and “How To Speak Poetry” (1978). By manipulating the structure and tone of the pieces, he is able to portray two entirely different personas to his audience. He showcases two distinct ways in which artists can live out their lives: self-contained and peaceful, or sharing their gift in the most direct way possible.
“I Have Not Lingered In European Monasteries” is a clearly poem about independence. It is about searching within one’s self in order to find the answers to life’s questions. Although Cohen uses images and makes reference to many different religions, it is possible to take these thoughts one step further by supposing that perhaps the religions that Cohen speaks of are merely a metaphor for his audience. Because he alludes to many conflicting religions (Christianity, Eastern philosophy, Judaism, and tribal practices) it can be understood that these religions are merely subsets of people to whom he must answer – critics, fans, family, friends. All are equally ravenous in their need for Cohen’s words, but in slightly different ways. This is much like the varying aspects of organized religion that basically seek to attain the same general principles but in disguised forms. God (and the supposed enlightenment that comes in accepting Him) is a metaphor for widespread acceptance or popularity. In lines such as, “I have not held my breath/so that I might hear the breathing of God/or tamed my heartbeat with an exercise/or starved for visions” he makes it clear that he will not sacrifice his own bodily processes in order to appease and be enlightened by a higher order. (In fact, he never refers to God as a higher power in the poem at all.) Cohen’s speaker refuses to cater to the preferences of critics or fans in order to achieve popularity. If he is to find this enlightenment (or popularity), he is going to do so on his own terms, in his own room, using his own body and mind. He doesn’t believe that a person needs to inflict pain and suffering on themselves in order to become a successful artist.
The tone that Cohen takes here is somewhat mocking. It is easy to picture him in a dimly-lit room, leaning back on a rickety chair, smoking a cigarette, slurring slightly drunk words while reciting this poem. He uses hyperbole when he says he has “not been unhappy for ten thousand years”. He is making references to the stereotypical portrayal of the artist as a torn and dejected member of society who refuses to allow himself the pleasure of feeling an emotion other than sadness or pain. Cohen’s body “cleans and repairs itself” – he obviously does not need the acceptance or comfort that a religion or a doting audience can provide him with. He sees this sort of comfort as superficial and unnecessary for leading a life that includes laughing, sleeping, and good health. (Health of both the mental and physical type, one would assume.)
Because Cohen created “Monasteries” to resemble the physical structure of a traditional poem (the stanzas are somewhat uniform and the length is neither excessively short nor long), and because he succeeds in creating a marketable work of art (it was published, after all), he proves that one can, in fact, become a competent artist without succumbing to outside pressures.
Of course, staying true to the notions of contradiction that Cohen himself helped to pioneer, he proceeds to compose “How To Speak Poetry” thirteen years later. Here, he manages to completely disregard everything he had professed so diligently in “Monasteries”. Perhaps old age and the 1970s had a powerful effect on Cohen’s perspective and writing style because his tone dramatically changes from staunch isolationist to aged, weathered, advice-giver. The 1965 cries of, “Leave me alone! Let me write in peace without your help!” have morphed into, “You have nothing to teach them. You are not more beautiful than they are. You are not wiser.” Cohen now considers himself the all-knowing poet, ready to dispense everything he has learned to anyone willing to listen. (Despite the fact that the advice he offers is excellent, he is still dictating how others are supposed to create and present their art. If someone had said these things to Cohen thirteen years prior, the effect probably would have been more damaging than helpful.) The insistence that his sentiments are the correct ones are emphasized in the title of the poem itself, “How To Speak Poetry”. This sounds like a book found in the self-help section of the local Indigo.
One has to wonder whether “How To Speak Poetry” is really a shift in tone, or if it is merely an ironic example of Cohen mocking his former self. Although he makes mention of his past ideology – “Let the audience feel your love of privacy even though there is no privacy”- it still sounds as if he is standing upon a pedestal, preaching at a group of cynical young writers unwilling to consider his advice. He has become the critic, the wise old writer wagging his finger at the new class of talent in an impersonal, preachy forum.
Even the structure of “HTSP” is indicative of its speech-like nature. Although each sentence reads like a line of poetry – very lyric and self-contained, there is little in the way of organization. The paragraphs are long and comprised of many of these lines strung together. Because the lines are all bundled together like this, it makes it much easier to fit onto a piece of paper, ready to be read aloud to a group of people. This looks like a speech rather than a poem, once again proving that Cohen wants this piece to be read to an audience, not by them.
It seems as if Cohen genuinely wants to teach his audience in “HTSP”. He is eager to share what he has learned from his years as an artist, but does so in a way that alienates potential writers. Although his intentions are noble, he is forgetting what prompted him to write poems such as “I Have Not Lingered In European Monasteries” in the first place. Regardless of how effective he is in convincing his audience, however, he is still showcasing yet another way in which to create and observe art in society. Whether he is effective or not is a moot point. The point is that simply by presenting us with two published, critically-acclaimed works of varying style, tone, and message, Cohen has proved to the reader that the role of the artist in society is malleable, paradoxical, and always open to critique.
Works Cited:
1. Cohen, Leonard. “How To Speak Poetry”. ENGL-229 Course pack.
2. Cohen, Leonard. “I Have Not Lingered In European Monasteries”. ENGL-229 Course pack.
