John Timpane writes in today's Philadelphia Inquirer about translation. He wants to know why there's such a surge in translations of poetry? And he quotes me on the point. Here's a link to the article.Here is Murat Nemet-Nejat's response to this article:
Translation has always been crucial in the development of a country's literature, in France, in England, in Germany, until recently in The United States, to name just a few, at least in the West.
I disagree with you on one point. In the last fifteen years or so, American poets, particularly those considered avant-garde have shown an amazing lack of interest in, creative involvement with the poetry of other languages. The last American examples of such a non-American focused interest would be poets of earlier generations, for instance, Rexroth's Chinese translations, Jerry Rothenberg's anthology The Technicians of the Sacred, original New York School poets's interest in French poetry and Dante, Zukofsky's interest in Catullus, etc,. and in its early years Language School poets' interest in European thinkers. The best example of the change is, in my view, Ron Silliman's blog, which, to the best of my knowledge, had never had a serious discussion of a non-American poet, without even acknowledging the lack of it.
I agree with you that in the last five or six years a change has begun to occur among younger American poets. Whether this is due to globalism or a realization of the sterility of the previous attitudes, I can not tell.


"I teach horizontally, meaning that while I might begin with a fixed idea of what I'm going to teach that day, I let it drift rhizomatically way off topic, often pulling it back when it gets too far. I rely on non-fixed materials to teach this way; the whole world is at my fingertips. Should I go off on a tangent about John and Rauschenberg and their love relationship as expressed in Rauschenberg's bed, an image of that bed is always a click away. From there, we can head anywhere into the non-fixed universe, be it film, text or sound. And of course, that always takes us elsewhere. As Cage says, 'We are getting nowhere fast.'" 
that anyone has yet got the imaginative measure of that terrifying day six years ago.  Certainly our Tolstoy has not crawled out of the rubble.  The closest we have, Don DeLillo, succeeded as an essayist-journalist ("In the Ruins of the Future: Reflections on Terror and Loss in the Shadow of September,” Harper’s, December 2001) but, to my mind, failed as a novelist ("Falling Man").  One reason, perhaps, is that the remembered emotion was instantly buried under a pile of cultural junk.' - Tod Gitlin in his review of Susan Faludi's The Terror Dream (written for 
