Please, Lord, Make Me a Famous Poet or at Least Less Fat (Paperback)

~ (Author)

Editorial Reviews

Review

Dean Blehert sent me a copy of his new book that will become available early next year. From what I have read, I can wholeheartedly recommend the book be used as the definitive text for any poetry course taught at any school in the nation. (The kids would actually read it ... and learn quite a bit about poetry.) -- Larry Logan, Satire Magazine, Dec.9, 1998

Great book, great cover! Great reading material for Doctors' offices: the more serious the case, the more important the antidote! -- Lionel Davis

I must say it lives up to its advance fanfare. I find it quite fun and funny. It keeps me focused trying not to miss all the witty things you wrote. -- Steve Graf, Professor

I started reading parts of Please, Lord last night and had to quit because of potential hernia splitting from laughter. Guess I'll be at this one ofor a long time, since I can only take so much laughter at one time. You are truly amazing. -- Alice Pero, Poet

Impressive book! 402 pages yet. Enough neologisms and Nashisms to choke a spell checker. I've been nibbling away with pleasure and an occasional groan (rejoyce?! Waiter, waiter everywhere!! toiolet?! fine couth tomes?!!). I can't believe you could do an entire chapter on leading a horse to water! And I marvel at your facility with palindromes. I applaud your indexes and the inclusion of the originals you're parodying. May you find fame and lose pounds. -- Bob McKenty, Poet

Me, I love the way I can go to any page and start picking around and find not just humor but little insights and gems that actually make it easier to confront such monsters as The Dreaded Sestina. . . . It also has that GREAT charm of a big old Sears Catalogue where you can just sort of thumb through it at random and find something terrific on any page. It's not a book to read from cover to cover, it's for pickin' and choosing' and one you can ramble around in and never really get lost. -- John McGinley, writer

Please, Lord, Make Dean Blehert a Famous Poet

Are you ready for the poet, scholar, wit, philosopher and Borscht Belt comedian who goes by the name (at least in this lifetime) of Dean Blehert? A few aphorisms, out of the many hundreds he includes in his sixth book Please, Lord, Make Me a Famous Poet or at Least Less Fat will clue you in on what to expect:

This is just poetry; it won't save you, but may locate you, so that a rescue party can be sent out.

"Important writer": one good enough to become the model for the next generation's bad writers.

I respond readily to poetry. Usually the response is, "So what?"

A poetry editor is someone who helps a poet mail his poetry to himself.

Speak up, poet--the ears have walls.

A poet must create an imaginary universe with real readers in it.

I leave these poems for those who come after me. The poems may distract them so I can escape.

Blehert's latest book is a 400-page compendium of trenchant literary criticism and scholarship, disguised as parody, light verse, puns and one-liners. Laid out in the form of an introductory textbook, Please, Lord consists of thirteen themed chapters with a page of aphorisms at the beginning of each. The chapters don't conform to Roberts Rules of Literary Order or the Geneva Convention on Poetic Justice, but take the reader on a quirky, panoramic tour of the author's wild, highly original imagination. (The first chapter consists solely of parodies of how different poets from John Donne to Issa to an amalgam of several current slam poets would phrase the old maxim, "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink.")

Please, Lord is a hard book to summarize, if only because there is so much in it. That refers not only to the book's length, but the density of wit and observation on each page. Almost every line contains a little twist, laugh line, or pun, and the poems in every conceivable form and length come thick and fast. You can open the book at random, close your eyes, and point; more likely than not you'll hit a gem, such as Blehert's aphorism on Carl Sandburg: "He's a sweeter, less original Whitman you might say a Whitman Sampler." Or you might encounter one of his literary limericks, each of which is more insightful and pertinent than most critics' book-length studies: That poor heavy-weight poet, old Pound, Should have always remained underground. For when he talked plain, He was judged quite insane, While his gobbledygook--"Ah! Profound!" *** Once a young son & lover named Lawrence Stood and stared at his girl with abhorrence: He cried, "You're not my mother! You're so UTTERLY OTHER!" Then he penned purple prose in great torrents. *** One might say (yes! do say it!) of James That his sentences curved from their aims Toward the fraught, but unseen, If you know what I mean, Like a gossip ashamed to name names. There is no style or school Blehert will not tackle, no sacred cow he hesitates to grind into hamburger. His parodies of Shakespearian sonnets ("Shall I compare thee to a guy named Fred?") and George Herbert's shaped poems dazzle as much with their almost arrogant ease of accomplishment as with their laugh-out-loud humor; his chapter titled "Bone and Blood I Love You," with its brilliant lead poem, "How Poetry is Done," will make certain well-regarded academic poets swallow very hard. "Ever since my falling out with this academic muse, she pretends she doesn't know me," Blehert remarks at one point. "`This is really funny stuff, said a reader. `Are you sure it's poetry?" Some readers, in fact, won't be sure, and this is the problem Blehert has had in a poetic career of nearly three decades. Please, Lord should leave absolutely no one in doubt as to the formidable breadth and depth of Blehert's poetic talent and literary scholarship; yet many will doubt, simply because Blehert feels laughter is a valid emotional response to poetry. This idea is as anathematic to many poets as the idea to fundamentalists that the Lord might not have created the world in seven calendar days.

Like a rich Christmas pudding stuffed with figs and plums, Please, Lord will have different effects on the digestions of different readers. Some will romp through it, gobbling it up and marveling at its sweet deliciousness; some will find it too rich to consume at one sitting, but a tasty nibble one piece at a time; some will reject it entirely as bad for the entire poetic system, and return to the artery-cleansing rectitude of Wallace Stevens or John Ashbery. In a way, it is easy to see why these last readers will react as they do: sometimes Blehert is too insistent, too little-boy antsy to show what he's thought of now. It doesn't help that he doesn't always edit out his weaker lines. For example, at one point Blehert writes, "Sein oder nicht sein? from Hamburger Hamlet," then feels compelled to include a footnote explaining that "Sein oder nicht sein?" is German for "To be or not to be," and Hamburger Hamlet is a chain of restaurants. Oscar Wilde or Groucho Marx ("Oscar the Groucho?" Blehert might interject at this point) could have told him: If you have to explain the line, the line doesn't work.

Yet Blehert's best work is so good, and in such profusion, that the only reasonable response is to sit back and let Blehert be Blehert. His virtues far outweigh his faults, and both emanate from the same sources: the author's fecund imagination, lightning-quick wit and insatiable love of wordplay. You might not always want to open a book of poetry in which fireworks and Roman candles are exploding on almost every page; but if you do, then Blehert's the poet for you.

Even if you're not looking for fireworks, Please, Lord has much to offer, particularly in the last chapter, "A Few Words from the Bully Pulpit," in which Blehert completely abandons parody in favor of serious (though often witty) poems which address the nature of poetry and the role of poets directly. As the aphorisms, parodies and light verse in the previous chapters should have indicated to alert readers, Blehert is not just a comedian, but a scholar and a moralist. He believes with all his heart that poetry has a purpose: To communicate pieces of truth, whether ragged or polished, that the reader knows in his bones but might never have been able to articulate for himself. Poetry, to Blehert, should illuminate, not obfuscate; it is for all readers who seek the electricity of succinctly imparted truth, not for the few high priests jealously guard the sacred mysteries. "Sharpen the Sword," one of the best poems from the last section, comes as close as any to explaining Blehert's position: A sword kills so well because it is almost humane. A blunt instrument is an outrage: Instantly flesh rebels. Sharpen it to a point, and it gains easy entry. Hone it to a fine edge, and flesh welcomes it: in and out before one knows death has been done. Sharpen the sword further until nothing is left but the deadly swift essence of penetration that comes and goes and one never knows why everything has changed, and you have not a sword, but a poem. Dean Blehert, then, is not a poet for those who seek reconfirmation of the drab verities of contemporary poetry. He wants to tell you what he's learned about poetry and life, wake you from your preconceived notions of what poetry is and what it should do, and charm and please you in the process. In Please, Lord, he succeeds in these goals to a remarkable degree. He is sui generis, a myriad bundle of influences combined to make a poetic voice that is new and wonderful. Blehert's voice can be heard from the wings: "Why don't you throw in `fresh' and `authoritative' while you're at it?" OK, I will. -- Miles Moore, author of The Bears of Paris

Product Description

A smorgasbord of parody and satire of poets and poetry, it spares no targets, taking on the classics and current fads, the exquisite pangs of feigned interest at polite poetry readings, the young poet's alienation from a world that hasn't noticed his greatness, and the proliferation in literary reviews of "fresh new voices" that all sound the same. It's funny, informative and challenging. What's more, it manages to achieve the breadth of humor needed to make it accessible to readers who do not know much about English poetry, while showing a loving attention to tone and detail (especially in the parodies) that should make it required reading for poetry lovers.

One indication of its breadth of appeal are the fact that it sports rave blurbs from both Dana Gioia and Lyn Lifshin, from opposite ends of the poetry spectrum. The humor ranges from raucous (a Shakespearean sonnet beginning "Shall I compare thee to a guy named Fred?") to refined ("Leapeth frogge/And splas! heth bog --/Softe sing haiku..."), from the ridiculous (punning "Little Richard" and "literature") to the sublime ("In the good old days, most poets were consigned to oblivion. These days even oblivion won't take poets on consignment.")

The book takes the form of a mock textbook. Some of the funniest stuff is in the hundreds of footnotes, and one must not skip the poetic aphorisms and one-liners that punctuate the beginning of each chapter.

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Product Details

• Paperback: 416 pages
• Publisher: Words & Pictures East Coast LLC; 1 edition (March 1999)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 1892261030
• ISBN-13: 978-1892261038
• Product Dimensions: 8.9 x 6 x 1.1 inches
• Shipping Weight: 1.4 pounds (View shipping rates and policies)
• Average Customer Review: 5.0 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (8 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #2,463,139 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Think of this as the written Steve Martin in pentameter, August 8, 1999

By	Lloyd Freeberg ([e-mail]) (San Juan Capistrano, California) - See all my reviews

Next time you want entertainment, forget the movies and TV. Get thee to a bookstore or Amazon. Skip past the so-called humor books, and go directly to the...gasp...poetry section. Don't be afraid. You may have a difficult time finding it, but once there, the name Dean Blehert will be prominently displayed on the bindings of several unique and hilarious books. Pick any one(s) you want, but be certain to include his latest in your trove. "Please, Lord,et.al." is not only a poet's primer, but very tasty brain candy for those who simply like to laugh. But please have a care: Blehert's books can be addicting, with no known antidote! Consider yourself warned!!!

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars More Fun Than A Barrel Full Of Poets, May 30, 2002

By	Bernadette Geyer (Vienna, VA) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)

If you've been out of school for a while you might be a little rusty on all the literary references that populate this book. Chock full o' parodies, Dean Blehert has more than a way with words -- he has a way with other people's words.

An entire chapter of Please Lord is devoted to how famous poets -- living and dead -- would write "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink." These writers include Sylvia Plath, Lyn Lifshin, Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats and Blake.

Tongue-in-cheek, the book intersperses Blehert's own poetry with instructive "how-to" advice-poems on such topics as "how poetry is done" and "How To Be A Prestigious Mainstream Twentieth-Century Academic Poet." For example, in the chapter on the first subject, Blehert writes:

You can make any sentence poetical
by mentioning blood or bone.
For example, instead of "Yesterday
I went to the store," say "Yesterday
I went to the blood and bone store."
Instead of "The moon rose," say
"The blood moon rose" or "A bone
of moon rose" or, best, "A bone
of blood moon rose."

There is so much in this book, it will take many many readings to catch just half of its humor. Brush up on your "dead white male" poets if you want to get the rest of it.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Dean Blehert is a genius. Period., June 29, 2000

By	Miles D. Moore (Alexandria, VA USA) - See all my reviews (TOP 500 REVIEWER)    (REAL NAME)

Fireworks, Roman candles, fizzgigs...they're always going off in Dean Blehert's mind, all the time. When you pick up a copy of Please, Lord, Make Me a Famous Poet or At Least Less Fat, you get 402 pages of peerless wit and erudition. Blehert knows just about everything there is to know about poetry in the English language, and nearly all of his knowledge is displayed in this book, in his characteristic melange of parody, punning and reasoned discourse. Some people may dismiss Blehert as a show-off, or as merely clever. But most, I think, will respond to his expansive good humor, and to the book's undercurrent of serious, even moral, commentary on what poetry should be and do.