There must be something in the initials. The American poet C.D. Wright and the Canadian poet A.F. Moritz are both $50,000 richer today, following the award ceremony of this year’s Griffin Poetry Prize, held at a lovely Mexican-themed gala dinner-and-dance party last night in the Distillery District. (Yes, boozed-up poets getting their groove on to a sax-heavy soul cover band is a sight to see. And it must be said — Griffin Prize founder Scott Griffin can seriously cut the rug, as he did early on with the equally nimble-footed Margaret Atwood.)
Throughout the two days of the festivities, talk often focused on poetry’s place in contemporary culture, many suggesting that there is a renaissance afoot, buoyed by the staggering amount of good writing currently being done (which is, no doubt, buoyed in turn by the possible increase in an interested audience).
Wright, who won the in the international sector for her excellent Rising, Falling, Hovering (Copper Canyon), joked about the shock of seeing a sold-out crowd of 800 at the readings held on June 2, referencing “one-time bad boy turned minor saint” Leonard Cohen’s line that “poetry is the opiate of the poets.”
At the awards night, James Wood (that’s Wood, the esteemed literary critic, not Woods, the actor who played the skeezy pimp in Casino — that would have been an entirely different sort of evening) gave a funny and still serious keynote speech in which he made cracks about poets quoting Auden’s line that “poetry makes nothing happen… as if they thought it wasn’t true.” In the end, he lamented the lack of serious poetry criticism and finished his address with a personal promise to do more poetry reviewing in The New Yorker, where he is a staff writer, a pledge that inspired an impromptu cheer.
Moritz, who has more than once been described as an “elder statesman” of Canadian poetry, won the Canadian division for his book The Sentinel (Anansi). The other two poets on the shortlist, Kevin Connolly for his book Revolver (also Anansi) and Jeramy Dodds for Crabwise to the Hounds (Coach House), were both in gracious good spirits all night. Overall the emphasis seemed to be placed as much, if not more so, on the art itself as on the winners. Which of course, is exactly the goal of the ambitious project the Griffins and Co. have set down for themselves.
Wright, who had been nominated for the prize once before in 2003, lightly chastised the American poet Dean Young for missing the celebration despite his inclusion in the international shortlist. “It’s the best party in poetry,” she said.