THE ANTHOLOGIST - Nicholson Baker - Fiction

A poem is a rhyming piece of verse, says Paul Chowder. A poem that doesn't rhyme is a plum. And so, welcome to the lusciously illustrated cover of this novel, a gorgeous, dark plum at the bottom of a cream-colored jacket. Baker's novels encompass all the senses, and this illustrative collaboration in particular is apropos. In the bookstore, I saw it and reflexively declared "I want that."

It's Nicholson Baker, so the subject doesn't matter. This one, of course, strays a little less afield than some of his previous work, dealing as it does with poetry, rhyme and meter, and the life of a modestly successful poet with ambitious theories about scansion and notation. If you're interested in plot, there is predictably little: Paul Chowder's girlfriend has left him over his inability to complete any work, and he is still unable to finish the introduction to his forthcoming anthology of rhyming poetry, partially over concern about his own poems, and partially out of the sense that this may be his last widely-received polemic, and his last chance to make a mark on the greater literary community. He befriends his badminton-playing neighbor, drives to a few poetry readings, visits the Grolier poetry bookshop in Harvard Square (always good to see wonderful real-life bookstores pop up in fiction) and composes a few lovely minor-key tunes for the lyrics of his favorite poetry.

If you are not a singer or a sight-reader, you may miss the beauty and unexpected notes in these short phrases. I play the cello, so I was able to go back after reading and play the music for myself; if you don't have access to your own instrument, I would suggest using something like this online piano to hear Chowder's music for yourself. He sings these songs in the attic of his barn, while trying to write, and then to shorten, his introduction, and their tone is not the jolly serenade I was expecting.

Part of the joy in poetry is reading aloud, and Baker exhorts the reader to do this throughout, counting out syllables, enumerating pauses, and playing fast and loose with typography as a guide to pronunciation. If the reader hasn't been introduced to much poetry, from Poe to Mary Oliver, Baker is the ultimate guide, knowing and name-droppy and entirely lacking in condescension. Paul Chowder may have been kicked out of his teaching job, but Baker is an entertaining educator.

P.S. THE ANTHOLOGIST is also the New Yorker's October book club selection, if you are interested in more discussion.