Last fall Dan Chiasson succeeded former poet laureate Charles Simic as a poetry editor of the Paris Review, the fifty-five-year-old literary magazine edited by Philip Gourevitch. A professor at Wellesley College in Wellesley, Massachusetts, and the author of three poetry collections, including Where's the Moon, There's the Moon, forthcoming from Knopf this year, Chiasson joins poetry editor (and Slate culture critic) Meghan O'Rourke on the Paris Review's masthead. He recently spoke—by phone from a New York City taxicab—about his new role at the venerable journal.
What was the process behind your being chosen as poetry
editor?
I think I've been on the
magazine's radar screen for a while now. They published a long poem of mine,
and I've known Meghan for a few years—I've written some pieces for Slate—and we just hit it off. Both of us are poets and
review poetry, so there's a lot of common ground. Plus, I admire Charles
Simic's work a great deal, and even though I don't know him well, I'd say our
work is similar aesthetically and our taste in poetry is in the same time zone.
But the letter from Philip Gourevitch, asking if I was interested in the position, came very much from out of the blue. And of course I was interested, even though Simic is impossible to replace. The magazine in general is so great to read and it publishes top-notch work. I started there a few weeks later, and we got down to business immediately: Already there was a stack of submissions waiting for me!
Since O'Rourke lives in
Brooklyn, New York, and you live in Boston, how do you divide up editorial responsibilities?
Meghan and I have been
friends for a long time, so we have a fairly strong rapport. The office will
send us a pile of submissions, half to Meghan and half to me. She'll narrow
hers down and send me the poems she's struck by to evaluate, and vice versa.
It's a lot easier to stay in our own private bubbles and read, thanks to e-mail
and PDF files. If I like something and it passes Meghan's
test, the poem will be read by the other editors, including Philip, who always
has the final vote. He has a strong interest in poetry, and the magazine as a
whole is shaped according to his vision.
What sort of support have
you received from Wellesley in order to juggle teaching poetry at the college
and your new responsibilities at the Paris Review?
What Wellesley has done in terms of support is unprecedented.
When I told them about the Paris
Review's interest they were thrilled with the association—so much
so that they set me up with an editorial office and the means to hire a student
as my assistant. Her name is Hannah Braaten and she's great—very organized.
What
sort of overlap do you see between teaching poetry and shepherding poems to
publication?
I now feel like I'm
involved in all steps in the poetry production chain. I write poetry; I teach
poetry, which exposes me to fresh and unformed young minds; I review poetry for
newspapers and magazines; and now, at the Paris Review,
I read unpublished work by
accomplished, award-winning poets and rising stars, and have a hand in
selecting it for publication. It's very thrilling to be so involved and to see
the differing mind-sets of students versus poets submitting work to me. What I
now can't do, however, is publish my own work in the Paris Review. I also have to think very seriously about
conflicts of interest with regards to reviewing. I've had the freedom to speak
my mind about any poet, but now I have to be more careful in my reviewing
choices.
This issue is devoted to
inspiration. What's your recommendation for writers who may be stuck in their
current projects?
Like Duke Ellington, I believe in deadlines to help bring
about inspiration. Of course, no one gives deadlines to write poetry, but it's
a matter of sitting down and writing, having a sense that this is the time and
place to do it. It's calisthenics.
Sarah Weinman is a freelance writer in New York City. Her Web site is www.sarahweinman.com.
