Conquering the Low, Vulgar and Fearsome

By Brian Lambert, "Interview with Robert Bly, the American storyteller behind the Iron John men's movement" - Times Online - London, UK
Saturday, August 30, 2008

Although regarded as a quintessential voice of the North American prairies, Robert Bly at 81 spends most of his time in either a small, cluttered office suite above his garage or an implausibly sturdily built gingerbread cabin/sanctuary in the backyard of his 100-year-old Minneapolis home. Of the cabin, a gift from a friend, he says with a smile, “No one but me is allowed in”.

Almost two decades have passed since the commercial success and controversy of Iron John: A Book About Men, the 1990 nonfiction book drawn from a Brothers Grimm fairytale about a wild man discovered at the bottom of a lake deep in a dangerous forest. The book caught the public's imagination and spawned a men's movement reflecting on male responsibility and the nature of heroism in a modern world. It remains the work for which Bly is most widely known.

He is thinner now but still identifiable by the distinctive mane of wild, white silky hair. The years have taken little toll on his presence as a performer. His baritone voice remains strong, and, often accompanied by drums and sound effects, his readings still have the power of incantations.

Bly also remains a cultural presence on his local landscape. This year he was named the state of Minnesota's first “official” poet laureate. The lofty title is of course mostly ceremonial. But the recognition - grudgingly, from a conservative governor with whom Bly shares almost no political affinity - was widely regarded as long overdue.

In anticipation of his appearance at the Westcountry Storytelling Festival next month he had been asked to assess the health of the art form in an age awash in stories delivered by everything from iPods to YouTube. His assessment has changed little since Iron John.

“The great story,” he says, “has a lot of enemies. The sheer power of the money interests continue to dilute the power of stories and myths.”

His new book - a translation, with Leonard Lewisohn, of 30 poems of Hafez, the great 14th-century Persian poet - is called The Angels Knocking on the Tavern Door (published by Harper): the symbiotic relationship between two seemingly opposed forces, celestial angels and profane taverns, appeals to Bly's fundamental ethos, namely that beauty and enlightenment are achieved only by confronting and conquering the low, vulgar and fearsome.

Little of value is accomplished by storytelling that ignores so basic a tenet.

“We've been watching a great disintegration of culture over the past 20 years or so. The commercial interests sell us only stories that avoid unsettling us. Stories that never require us to ask, 'What must I do to show courage? To be heroic?' From everywhere we are sold stories that never require us to act. When poets of my generation were younger we thought the work we would see would all be like Joseph Campbell. We were caught up in the excitement of pursuing heroic myths and what that pursuit would bring. We were wrong.”

Those who share Bly's contempt for this White House Administration can only chuckle as he rolls a shot at George W. Bush into his thoughts on the impoverished state of American storytelling. “Bush is the perfect model for our culture today. This is a man who ignores anything he doesn't want to hear. Heroism is easy. There are no bad stories.”

As is often the case with a literary phenomenon, Iron John was much criticised and parodied. Bly's message that the heroic quest was vital to the spiritual health of men - that it was an invigorating, bonding experience that men should share with each other and tutor in boys - was attacked by certain feminists as reactionary to their message. In pop culture Iron John was lampooned as a kind of testosterone-addled paean to drinking, drumming and running naked in the woods. There are many people, though, for whom Iron John still resonates, and Bly continues to play a key role in two week-long “conferences” built on its message.

His forthcoming trip to Britain got him thinking on an irony accompanying the cultural disintegration he laments: “There are still an amazing number of poetry readings going on in the United States. What's more, those who attend bring tremendous energy and curiosity. They want to engage with the work. They want to argue. They ask questions and linger long after the reading has finished.” He laughs. “It's different in Britain. They listen very intently and politely and then at the stroke of 45 minutes or whatever was scheduled they all applaud and begin leaving for tea or a glass of wine.”

Bly says he senses “a fantastic sadness” in society, America in particular. Some of it “is because we voted for this idiot, twice”. But another part of it is the emptiness resulting from a culture untethered from a sense of greater purpose, a central purpose of storytelling that stirs the conscience and soul.

“Our own intelligence has failed us,” he says. “It is another reason why great literature is more important now than ever.”

Robert Bly performs at the Westcountry Storytelling Festival, Dartington Hall Estate, South Devon, September 5-7 (01803 863790; weststoryfest.co.uk) and at St James's Piccadilly, London W1, September 13 (020-7381 0441; stalkingtherebelsoul.com/tickets).

There are many storytelling events coming up in the autumn - at The Times Cheltenham Literature Festival, at the Barbican in London, and all around the country. For full listings, check out the websites of the Crick Crack Club and the Society for Storytelling