Eric ErlandsonRecensioni

I must have misread the synopsis when I chose this in the early reviewers list. I started reading it soon after I received it and put it down quite quickly because I felt a bad review coming on. I've picked it up again because it ended up in the donation pile and yes, time didn't heal those earlier wounds. I could also be biased having grown up in the "Grunge" era and enjoying the music, but as a child of former addicts, never got into the martyrdom over Kurt Cobain. Try it if Nirvana was your favorite band of all time, but if not, Patty Smith's latest book is a much better find.

I thought it was magical that I got the email that I'd won an Early Reviewer copy of this right before I went to see Hit So Hard (which I found very intense and good). Unfortunately, I found this disappointing and cliched (at least Courtney isn't the only member of Hole whose current work has let me down - the genius must have been in their collaboration). I'm not into much poetry but this was the most intolerable I've read, I gave up about halfway through.

Someone read too much Kerouac.

Letters to Kurt is not a bad effort--it's just not particularly great. Erlandson admits to once being the lover of Nirvana's Kurt Cobain future wife Courtney Love and it seems as if he feels some distance from the now departed songwriter. Whether or not it's the sense of coming in second in that competition his former liaison does seem to inform this work. I agree that some of these prose poems are kind of uneven. He can't quite seem to love or altogether hate his rival and that doesn't lift the book to greater heights.

Not all ramblings are poetry which can often be more thereputic to the writer than interesting to the reader. I have and read several books on Kurt Cobain and while there is the Nirvana/Hole connection some of the writings are a bland OK but most are not worth the effort to analyize the thought process. Perhaps it's just the punk setting or the adolesence of the writer. I'm not seeing too many positive reviews.½

I tried to like this one, I really did. I tend to like poetry in most forms, and essays, but Letters to Kurt felt like wordplay for the sake of wordplay. It wasn't horrible, but I didn't find myself enjoying it either; just forcing myself to get through it.

With a sad heart I have to say that I found this book difficult to stomach. The "letters in poetic prose" term used for it only disguises a bunch of angry ramblings. I bet that writing all that was really therapeutic for the author, but that doesn't make it worth publishing.

I remember hearing Alan Watts once recount that he gave a book of koans to a man in the hospital, later the man returned it saying that he didn't understand a word of it, but he enjoyed reading it.

That pretty much sums up my feelings about this book of poems. I don't know enough about poetry to really judge it on literary merit, but the poems are enjoyable and interesting. They are short and digestible.

Erlandson's phrasings are uneven. He can sometimes evoke some pretty clever imagery, but sometimes it's just cringe-worthy. More the former than the later, thankfully.

Overall, I ended up enjoying this book and I'm glad to have it on my bookshelf.

The book Letters to Kurt is a collection of prose poems by Eric Erlandson, who played bass in the band Hole. The short entries are all addressed to Kurt Cobain long after his death. I wasn't very impressed. There was an adolescent angstiness without any really interesting language. It might be that you needed to be more passionately invested in the music of my youth to find this more interesting than trawling LiveJournal for a few hours.

The term "prose poetry" should set off all kinds of high-decibel air raid sirens in the reader's mind, so I don't think I can fairly complain about the lack of structure, coherence, and basic grammar in Erlandson's book. After all, I was warned. And yes, there is the undeniable fact that he's cashing in on the double cachet of Cobain's fame and suicide even as he's bemoaning it. That said, I have to give Erlandson credit for refusing to pander to our voyeurism by writing a typical memoir larded with juicy tell-all details. These pieces are personal, elliptical, often obscure, and seem like the results of an at least semi-sincere attempt at Working Shit Out.

There's also a conspicuous lack of bitterness regarding things that could have well turned your average citizen into a seething stew of envy and bile. Erlandson points out in a few different places (the interview, his "talking points") that Hole stayed together after Courtney left him for Kurt. Laugh all you want about the fact that Eric Erlandson now has talking points, but consider what a mensch he must have been to handle that situation so well. With more practice and a tougher editor, he might even become an interesting writer.

Letters to Kurt was written by Eric Erlandson, who a close friend of both Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love.

I have to tell you that my first impressions of this book were not that great: I think that I was expecting more of a straightforward prose. But that was never the author's intension. He's written a thoughtful introduction to the project that explains both his relationship to Cobain and Love, and why he chose to wrote a series of prose poems to exorcise old demons, in response to one of his favorite books, Jim Harrison's 'Letters to Yesenin.'

There are 52 short prose poems in the book addressed to Erlandson's "muse", Kurt Cobain. After reading the first two poems, which were full of cliched (but not necessarily cliched in the context of this book) imagery about suicide, angst, and goth teen / vampire imagery, I rolled my eyes and said outloud "oh god, really?" just not sure if this book was going to be worth sticking with. For example:

"I found her on YouTube channeling you, her piercing black eyes not of my world. Not of yours, I hope. 'Wake up humanity, there are vampires!' she howls. Noshitsherlock."

And:

"Rule number one: overdose on frozen French toast, shove a shotgun into your mouth, and replace those mercury fillings with buckshot lead, splattering your zits over the smeared reflection of your hate."

But I think that this book rewards time and patience, because not all of the notes that it hits are the same. Some are angst-filled, but some are more quiet, filled with quiet epiphanies that arise out of the action of completing mundane tasks:

"I use my dehydrator to suck the life out of kale, berries, and mangoes, leaving the dry empty shell for our snacking. Time and love dehydrate us, water content reduced in slow, torturous increments until we're left prune fleshed and feeble."

The best moments in the book are the ones that evoke in me a memory of all of the feelings that I still associate with the nineties of righteous, empowered anger at things that are politically f***ed up and all of the things, like Facebook, which so insidiously keep you from living a full life. I think that that's what Kurt embodies in this book in someway, someone who lived life, for better and worse, fully. I enjoyed Erlandson's reflections on the LA Riots, and the very funny scene of Kurt being rejected from First Class on a plane for wearing torn jeans. But torn jeans stand, of course, for a flat-out rejection of a certain narrative of the world and the rules of that world and how things "should be." I found myself thinking "I remember when I felt that way, and you know, we were right."

One of the things that I really love about this book is that Erlandson's perspective and the language are honed and specific, and so different that what you typically see out there on poetry shelves. I think that a lot of contemporary poets write about the same subjects in the same way, and so Erlandson's voice is really refreshing.

I have to admit that I'm still, writing this, only partway through the book. I think that the form of the prose poem is probably not for everyone. Sometimes I'm not sure what Erlandson is referring to...the references fly above my head...but I think that as with other poems, you have to both go with the flow of the language but also give it a little time to soak in.

So, if you're both a fan of the music scene that Nirvana and Hole were at the center of, and you're up for giving the book a little bit of time, or if you just love poetry and are looking for a fresh voice, I'd recommend it.

I like Eric Erlandson's writing style. He has a clear way of writing and puts a lot of feeling into his words as well. I like that the poems are put in order of when they are written, they give a glimpse into his state of mind at any given time and how he evolves over time.

Before I knew what this book was about and how it was layed out I expected it to be beyond lame. I thought the author was just trying to feed off of Cobains success but found the book to actually be quite heartfelt. The poems in this book are beautifully abstract and I found them exciting, interesting and best of all thought provoking.

I had a difficult time reading Letters to Kurt. The cross between prose poetry and stream of consciousness felt forced. I wanted it to be more intimate, more sincere. I would not read it again and I don't know anyone that I think would enjoy it.

When I saw that Letters to Kurt, by Eric Erlandson, was a collection of prose-poems, I didn't expect to like it very much. I like poetry in general. I love some, hate some, and regard some with indifference. Stream-of-consciousness prose-poetry rarely falls into the former category. Too often it seems forced, pretentious, self-satisfied, or some some combination thereof. After reading the introduction and a few of the "letters," I actually found myself enjoying the book.

It is no great work of literature. It is not even great poetry, although Erlandson does display some clever or effective wordplay here and there. What it is, or seems to be, is honest. By honest, I mean that it seems to be a direct translation of Erlandson's emotions and thoughts to the printed page. What we are reading is what he has been feeling, or so at least it seems. That is what makes me like the book. He seems to have written it mainly for himself, and it feels real and candid. It's a pretty good read anyway, with some of the best prose-poetry I've read. (Still not great, but not awful.)

It's rather short, too. There are fifty-two pieces in all, one for each card in the deck. I wouldn't recommend reading the whole thing in one sitting, as it starts to wear on you after a bit, but you certainly could. If you happen to come across it in a bookstore or library, it's worth a peek.

Letters to Kurt is a slender book of 52 prose writings by Hole guitarist Eric Erlandson.

The writing style can be a challenge to get through at first. Much of the subject matter is about Erlandson's own personal life, as well as how he relates to Cobain, Love, and other crucial people in his life. I personally found this interesting, such as when he talked about his niece and his pets. And although he doesn't always name Cobain and Love in his work, if you were a fan of either or both, it is easy to tell when he is talking about them.

That said, I didn't find this a book I would hang on to and read again and again. It was by no means poor or bad. But with such limited subject matter that is relate-able, once was enough for me.

When I signed up for an ARC of Letters to Kurt, I was ready for it to be one of several things, or maybe a mixture of all three:

1) A meditation on friendship, celebrity, and death, told in the format of letters to the dead (an ancient form),
2) A greasy celebrity tell-all, or
3) A hagiography.

Perhaps the publisher description, "a poetic elegy for Kurt Cobain," and later, "prose poems," should have tipped me off that this was a book of nearly incomprehensible beat poetry. Maybe it's my fault. I never liked Kerouac.

I did get through the whole thing, though I admit I skimmed whenever the sentences degenerated into trying-for-clever alliterative wordplay. There were some interesting bits about Kurt and California, and some good images (I liked Erlandson's hate/love relationship with his cats), but on the whole, I would recommend this only for people able and willing to figure out all the insider's asides and lyrics references.½

One has to be a talented writer to pull off a book like this. Mega talented. William Burroughs kind of talented. Eric Erlandson is not that. And I'll leave it there.

You know how when you put new strings on your guitar, and you have to cut the excess off, or the strings hang off of the neck, all willy-nilly and crazy looking? This book made me feel a little like uncut strings. Or, remember when Kramer said to Jerry: "Am I Insane? Or am I So Sane that I just blew your mind?' and you knew both answers were correct? Or when you were 15, and had to pretend to all of your cool friends, that 'On The Road' was a great book and not a collection of maddening run-on sentences and exclamation points that would garner you a D- if you handed it in as yours in ninth grade English class?

What I'm trying to say, is that I don't know if this book is good, bad or ugly. There is some cool imagery, some bad-ass lines, and also some stuff that seems like it could have been written 'by a basket of acorns falling randomly onto the keyboard' to quote Ms. Samantha Bee. But since I don't read poetry often enough, I don't think I should judge poetry. So I won't.½

Letters to Kurt is about a boy who is musing over the suicide of another. Not really. Perhaps written with good intentions, it's actually a coded document about lost love, where the author finally confronts the deceased rock hero who took his girlfriend away.

For the last several years, Eric Erlandson has reexamined the consequences of that fateful day when Love left him for Nirvana. That event is the crux of the book. For it was at that moment when his life became redefined, and anger began to set in.

As a result, his book is filled with resentful puns, a sequence of stream of consciousness elegies, cut-ups of the west coast's Sub-Pop culture, sentences stuck together as if they were bumper-to-bumper car stickers. A grunge grudge.

Cripes, he now has me doing it too.

Basically, Erlandson gets sacked by a girl, and his grief begets a book because he's unable to let the past just fade away.

This was an interesting read if you're a fan of experimental writing styles à la Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, and Sylvia Plath. The sentences are a blend of raw emotions, dream-like apparitions, pop culture, and a reflective look at the past. This book of experimental prose poetry dips into themes of depression, suicide, and trust issues. While reading this book I had to have a pen in my hand so I could underline all of the quotes that really popped out at me.

If you enjoyed reading William S. Burroughs' "My Education: A Book of Dreams" or Allen Ginsberg's "Howl" you would probably enjoy "Letters to Kurt."½

Some of these poems were very good some I didnt like as much but the book was ok overall

The concept of this book is much better than the book itself. There is a hole in my life having read through this.

A collection of loose prose or perhaps ramblings from Eric Erlandson that is rather dreary and dark and left me feeling mostly sad. I also found myself profoundly blessed that I have not had to experience the obvious pain this man has been through. It is truly soul-ripping and a bit difficult to read due to the almost no format writing. It skips around and leaves you confused and I think that if you were not a die-hard ('scuse the unintended pun) fan of these bands or genre, you would have a tough time following the stream of anger and grief. I was a little disappointed, I guess I was (shamefully) looking for a clearer picture of Kurt and Courtneys dirty laundry. You will not find that here.½

Erlandson, Eric. Letters to Kurt. New York: Akashic, 2012.

I was wrong about this book. I previously said I thought I could read it in a weekend. What I was really thinking was that I could read it in an hour. I was oh so wrong. Very wrong. On both accounts. Here's how it really went: I could read it for 15-20 minutes and then had to walk away. Words blended and sentences started to sound the same. I lost my place among the pages often. Letters became redundant if I read too much. How do I describe this book accurately? Here are the words I jotted down while reading this on a Sunday morning, coffee balanced on knee, propped up in bed: Clever. Cliche. Rambling. Private. Joking. Culture. Pop. Jealousy. Sexy. Rude. And finally, a sentence. "I'm feeling left out." Even if you were parked in front of every media outlet in the 1990s you will still miss some of the reference Erlandson makes. I wavered between thinking this was a glorified writing assignment, "write for ten minutes straight" and feeling it was an outpouring of grief and rage in the form of stream of consciousness prose. It babbles and barks. There is bite. It's sad and strangely beautiful. But, as I said earlier it is not something to devour in one sitting. You will get indigestion, for sure. Bite small. Chew slowly. Push the book away often and everything will taste better in the end.