Books by Jonah Raskin

American Scream

The 'Howl' heard round the world

Reviewed by Andrew Roe
Sunday, April 4, 2004

American Scream
Allen Ginsberg's "Howl" and the Making of the Beat Generation
By Jonah Raskin

As far as famous opening lines in poetry go, it's hard to beat for  recognition "I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness." But  when Allen Ginsberg first delivered Part I of "Howl" at the famous Six Gallery  reading in San Francisco on Oct. 7, 1955, the then-29-year-old poet was  largely unknown. That, however, would quickly change.

The day after the reading, Lawrence Ferlinghetti sent a telegram to  Ginsberg offering to publish the poem and quoting a letter Emerson had written  to Whitman after reading "Leaves of Grass": "I greet you at the beginning of a  great career. When do I get the manuscript?"

Ferlinghetti and City Lights did, of course, get the manuscript (and, in  1957, an obscenity trial). But in the ensuing decades, as the notoriety and  eventual mythologizing of Ginsberg et al (Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs,  Neal Cassady) increased, the work itself has often been eclipsed. What we  mostly remember is the lore, the icons, the images.

Jonah Raskin's "American Scream: Allen Ginsberg's 'Howl' and the Making  of the Beat Generation" seeks successfully, refreshingly to restore attention  to Ginsberg's masterwork, a 3,600-word three-part salvo that shook the world  of poetry (for its language and its innovations in form and content) as well  as the world of postwar America.

Today, in contrast, it's difficult to imagine a poem having such a  widespread impact. A song, a movie  --  perhaps. But a poem? In the preface,  Raskin reminisces about buying his first copy of "Howl" as a teenager,  recalling how it "conferred a strange power. Reading it brought initiation  into a secret society. It bound us together and gave us a sense of identity as  members of a new generation that had come of age in the wake of World War II  and the atomic bomb." Although "American Scream" places Ginsberg and "Howl" in  their historical and cultural contexts, and provides a comprehensive inventory  of the poet's personal life, Raskin keeps returning to the poem itself  --   how it gestated over the years, how it came to be written when Ginsberg moved  to San Francisco in 1954. The result is a masterful synthesis of the myriad  influences that shaped both Ginsberg and "Howl."

A fair amount of the ground covered and cast of characters will no doubt  be familiar to some readers. Yet Raskin, a professor at Sonoma State, also  unearths a wealth of new material and insight. A tireless literary sleuth, he  sifts through Ginsberg's journals, letters and schoolwork, culling information  and searching for clues.

For instance, Raskin exhumes a previously ignored high school essay on  Walt Whitman and Carl Sandburg. Young Allen's comments on Whitman's style  ("similar to Herman Melville's style ... like the style of the verses of the  Bible, large magnificent strophes, building up to mighty climaxes, or like a  massive Bach oratorio") would later resurface in his explanations of the style  he was after in "Howl."

"American Scream" is notable, too, for incorporating recently released  psychiatric reports on Ginsberg and for being the first study to interview Dr.  Philip Hicks, with whom Ginsberg underwent therapy at the Langley Porter  Psychiatric Institute while writing "Howl." Among other things, we learn that  the poet not only brought his manuscript to his sessions with Hicks but also  worked on it during their time together.

Additionally, Raskin debunks the myth that "Howl" was written in a flurry  of inspiration ("No 'spontaneous' poem was more thoroughly rewritten"), and  charts the influence of a number of poets, including T.S. Eliot and Ginsberg's  father, Louis, who has been overshadowed by Ginsberg's troubled mother, Naomi.  (Raskin finds a precursor to Allen's Moloch in Louis' "fierce Behemoths" from  a poem called "The Revolt of the Machines.") And unlike other chroniclers of  the Beats, Raskin doesn't offer a fawning, uncritical portrait that overlooks  his subject's faults, namely Ginsberg's misogyny, his paranoia, his "immense  ego" and "intense longing for fame." Instead he manages to maintain the  perfect balance of subjective enthusiasm and appreciation with an objective  distance and clarity.

What of criticisms of Raskin himself? There are a few to mention, minor  ones such as a tendency, at times, toward repetition and an ending that  perhaps lingers too long on the obscenity trial and could have benefited from  a better tying together of the book's many elements. It's nothing, though,  that detracts from the overall power and pleasure of "American Scream."  Looking back now, in 2004, you don't have to be Truman Capote to come to the  conclusion that a lot of Beat writing should be forgotten. With "Howl,"  however, one is surprised to discover, half a century after its publication,  how much of its resonance it retains . Sure, some lines might not go down so  easy ("orange crates of theology"; "drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality"),  and there are those (New Yorker editor David Remnick, for example) who believe  that "Kaddish" is the greater work or argue that Ginsberg, who died in 1997,  isn't deserving of the recognition he's received.

No matter: "Howl" still stands as an important cultural artifact, both as  a poem and as a reflection of its times, and Raskin performs an admirable act  of literary restoration, crafting a proper appreciation for "Howl" and its  placement within the canon of 20th century American literature.

Andrew Roe's writing has appeared in and the New York Times.

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