Scott J Krane
Scott Krane began in academics as a music major at the University of Oregon in 2001 and did not make it past year one. He resumed both BA and MA studies in Literature from Bar-Ilan University in Israel between '08 and '12.
He has studied Judaism at Macon HaGavua L'Torah in Israel and Hadar HaTorah in Brooklyn, NY.
Supervisors: Professor Jeffrey Perl, MA advisor
Phone: 4808183510
He has studied Judaism at Macon HaGavua L'Torah in Israel and Hadar HaTorah in Brooklyn, NY.
Supervisors: Professor Jeffrey Perl, MA advisor
Phone: 4808183510
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Papers by Scott J Krane
I’ve found time to read, however cursorily, your fascinating book on Ashbery’s poetry. Congratulations on your clarity of argument and expression. You’ve caught something important about Ashbery’s avoidance of sublimity, message, and teleology. I appreciated and enjoyed the vast array of poems and statements from interviews that you brought into play here, also your familiarity with classical paradigms and modern aesthetics (especially Sontag’s). I think Ashbery himself would agree with your sense of his poems. I wonder if there are moments in which you disagree with Ashbery, in which you find his poems doing something other than what he says either in the poems or out. I was also wondering how the ideas of sublimity, didacticism, and teleology belong together for you. They don’t have to, do they? Longfellow’s “The Village Blacksmith” is didactic without being sublime; Shelley’s “Mont Blanc” is sublime without being explicitly didactic. For me, the issue of message is difficult to separate (keep apart from) that of meaning. Meaningful, readable poems, including those of Ashbery’s I can make sense of, are often what you might call value-added texts in that the differences in their figures and strucure are almost inevitably valued negatively or positively. I’m sure you know “They Knew What They Wanted” from Planisphere. With its collage of film titles, its many relatively interchangeable lines, the poem seems non-didactic and only marginally meaningful. Yet we do get a composite photo (mug shot?) of “They”: the criminal, marginal other; in the overt irony of the poem, “they” are mostly the good guys. The poem appeared in the wake of the passing of Proposition 8 in California, which made same-sex marriages illegal. If read in that light, the first line: “They all kissed the bride.” introduces heterosexual marriage, while “They dare not love” paraphrases the famous (from Wilde’s trial) “love that dare not speak its name”. Near the end, “they” shifts roles to the villain as the first person anti-hero enters: “They made me a fugitive. / They made me a criminal.” These lines add up to an implicit critique of the California proposition, now overturned. Is the poem political, didactic? Implicitly, yes, I would say, but not without losing its sense of free play and pleasure, which I still take in reading it. Anyway, well done. Let me know when you find a publisher.
John (Shoptaw), Professor, English, UC Berkeley
Drafts by Scott J Krane
...I’ve found time to read, however cursorily, your fascinating book on Ashbery’s poetry. Congratulations on your clarity of argument and expression. You’ve caught something important about Ashbery’s avoidance of sublimity, message, and teleology. I appreciated and enjoyed the vast array of poems and statements from interviews that you brought into play here, also your familiarity with classical paradigms and modern aesthetics (especially Sontag’s). I think Ashbery himself would agree with your sense of his poems. I wonder if there are moments in which you disagree with Ashbery, in which you find his poems doing something other than what he says either in the poems or out. I was also wondering how the ideas of sublimity, didacticism, and teleology belong together for you. They don’t have to, do they? Longfellow’s “The Village Blacksmith” is didactic without being sublime; Shelley’s “Mont Blanc” is sublime without being explicitly didactic. For me, the issue of message is difficult to separate (keep apart from) that of meaning. Meaningful, readable poems, including those of Ashbery’s I can make sense of, are often what you might call value-added texts in that the differences in their figures and strucure are almost inevitably valued negatively or positively. I’m sure you know “They Knew What They Wanted” from Planisphere. With its collage of film titles, its many relatively interchangeable lines, the poem seems non-didactic and only marginally meaningful. Yet we do get a composite photo (mug shot?) of “They”: the criminal, marginal other; in the overt irony of the poem, “they” are mostly the good guys. The poem appeared in the wake of the passing of Proposition 8 in California, which made same-sex marriages illegal. If read in that light, the first line: “They all kissed the bride.” introduces heterosexual marriage, while “They dare not love” paraphrases the famous (from Wilde’s trial) “love that dare not speak its name”. Near the end, “they” shifts roles to the villain as the first person anti-hero enters: “They made me a fugitive. / They made me a criminal.” These lines add up to an implicit critique of the California proposition, now overturned. Is the poem political, didactic? Implicitly, yes, I would say, but not without losing its sense of free play and pleasure, which I still take in reading it. Anyway, well done. Let me know when you find a publisher.
John (Shoptaw), Professor, English, UC Berkeley
I’ve found time to read, however cursorily, your fascinating book on Ashbery’s poetry. Congratulations on your clarity of argument and expression. You’ve caught something important about Ashbery’s avoidance of sublimity, message, and teleology. I appreciated and enjoyed the vast array of poems and statements from interviews that you brought into play here, also your familiarity with classical paradigms and modern aesthetics (especially Sontag’s). I think Ashbery himself would agree with your sense of his poems. I wonder if there are moments in which you disagree with Ashbery, in which you find his poems doing something other than what he says either in the poems or out. I was also wondering how the ideas of sublimity, didacticism, and teleology belong together for you. They don’t have to, do they? Longfellow’s “The Village Blacksmith” is didactic without being sublime; Shelley’s “Mont Blanc” is sublime without being explicitly didactic. For me, the issue of message is difficult to separate (keep apart from) that of meaning. Meaningful, readable poems, including those of Ashbery’s I can make sense of, are often what you might call value-added texts in that the differences in their figures and strucure are almost inevitably valued negatively or positively. I’m sure you know “They Knew What They Wanted” from Planisphere. With its collage of film titles, its many relatively interchangeable lines, the poem seems non-didactic and only marginally meaningful. Yet we do get a composite photo (mug shot?) of “They”: the criminal, marginal other; in the overt irony of the poem, “they” are mostly the good guys. The poem appeared in the wake of the passing of Proposition 8 in California, which made same-sex marriages illegal. If read in that light, the first line: “They all kissed the bride.” introduces heterosexual marriage, while “They dare not love” paraphrases the famous (from Wilde’s trial) “love that dare not speak its name”. Near the end, “they” shifts roles to the villain as the first person anti-hero enters: “They made me a fugitive. / They made me a criminal.” These lines add up to an implicit critique of the California proposition, now overturned. Is the poem political, didactic? Implicitly, yes, I would say, but not without losing its sense of free play and pleasure, which I still take in reading it. Anyway, well done. Let me know when you find a publisher.
John (Shoptaw), Professor, English, UC Berkeley
...I’ve found time to read, however cursorily, your fascinating book on Ashbery’s poetry. Congratulations on your clarity of argument and expression. You’ve caught something important about Ashbery’s avoidance of sublimity, message, and teleology. I appreciated and enjoyed the vast array of poems and statements from interviews that you brought into play here, also your familiarity with classical paradigms and modern aesthetics (especially Sontag’s). I think Ashbery himself would agree with your sense of his poems. I wonder if there are moments in which you disagree with Ashbery, in which you find his poems doing something other than what he says either in the poems or out. I was also wondering how the ideas of sublimity, didacticism, and teleology belong together for you. They don’t have to, do they? Longfellow’s “The Village Blacksmith” is didactic without being sublime; Shelley’s “Mont Blanc” is sublime without being explicitly didactic. For me, the issue of message is difficult to separate (keep apart from) that of meaning. Meaningful, readable poems, including those of Ashbery’s I can make sense of, are often what you might call value-added texts in that the differences in their figures and strucure are almost inevitably valued negatively or positively. I’m sure you know “They Knew What They Wanted” from Planisphere. With its collage of film titles, its many relatively interchangeable lines, the poem seems non-didactic and only marginally meaningful. Yet we do get a composite photo (mug shot?) of “They”: the criminal, marginal other; in the overt irony of the poem, “they” are mostly the good guys. The poem appeared in the wake of the passing of Proposition 8 in California, which made same-sex marriages illegal. If read in that light, the first line: “They all kissed the bride.” introduces heterosexual marriage, while “They dare not love” paraphrases the famous (from Wilde’s trial) “love that dare not speak its name”. Near the end, “they” shifts roles to the villain as the first person anti-hero enters: “They made me a fugitive. / They made me a criminal.” These lines add up to an implicit critique of the California proposition, now overturned. Is the poem political, didactic? Implicitly, yes, I would say, but not without losing its sense of free play and pleasure, which I still take in reading it. Anyway, well done. Let me know when you find a publisher.
John (Shoptaw), Professor, English, UC Berkeley