Story by Ethan Kwak
Staff Writer

Illustration by Lanah Kim
Design Editor

The chasm has never been more distinct between those who “care” about literature and those who do not. This can be traced back to the sensibilities developed by the “L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E” poetry movement of the 1960s. These poets resisted the Confessional tradition by focusing on the materiality of language itself rather than its coherent meaning. 

This ideal of post-structuralism, that language is not a stable, closed system as previously understood, is a pillar of contemporary poetry and MFA-style writing. This is why contemporary poetry is both delightful and challenging to read: It invites reader participation in the meaning of the work itself but also risks pushing away the modern reader with experimental indulgences that become self-referential in their inaccessibility. Over time, these self-referentialist tendencies have resulted in an institutional alienation.

The greatest threat against literature is not AI, it is humanity. The problem is not AI’s capability to write convincingly but the fact that enough people are convinced it can write proficiently. This delusion is fed by the sentiment that literature is dying. On one hand, within writing circles, passion for the literary arts has never been more fervent. Echo-chambers crystallize and form their own gates. This is a neutral force. It is neither malicious nor benevolent. On the other hand, the accessibility of literature, and thus its survival, is threatened by those who fear that democratization has eroded its quality. Poet Kaveh Akbar famously Tweeted that ‘a bag of dirt’ could be presented as a poem. Many miss the nuance: he never said it would be a good poem. 

The democratization of literature has been overwhelmingly positive because the traditional avenue of publication is no longer the only way for voices to be heard in rigorous spaces. Thousands of online literary magazines uplift marginalized voices, and the content posted on these sites are more accessible to the general public. Rupi Kaur, who has amassed four million followers on Instagram, is one pioneer of the Insta-poetry movement. Her confessional posts reach more readers than the most prestigious magazines today. Clearly, something is resonating. 

Poetry is not dead. It is being outpaced. Debating whether an idea is dead is useless because by debating it we are thinking about it and giving it life. A mentor once said a viral Instagram poem must be pretty good if people are talking about it, regardless of one’s opinion. By that logic, an Instagram poem is as valuable today as a challenging L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poem or a layered Shakespearean sonnet.

So write. Write badly, baldly. Turn the page and keep on. Try not to feel alienated by challenging texts, and do not dismiss art that does not immediately resonate. When friends make art, celebrate them for it. Take part, always, in the “supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul!” (Footnote to Howl, Allen Ginsberg)