Ryan Cull's "Unlimited Eligibility"

Ryan Cull is Associate Professor of English at New Mexico State University.

He applied the "Page 99 Test" to his new book, Unlimited Eligibility?: Inclusive Democracy and the American Lyric, with the following results:

On the one hand, page 99 of Unlimited Eligibility? Inclusive Democracy and the American Lyric is uncharacteristically almost filled with a quotation of an entire poem. On the other hand, the quoted poem, Hart Crane’s “Possessions,” is pivotal to the presentation of the concept of “looking without recognizing,” a phrase introduced at the top of the page that also serves as the title of the chapter. Why is this distinction (looking vs. recognizing) important and how is it connected to a sequence of movements, from the St. Louis Hegelians to cultural pluralism to 60s/70s-era identity politics to more recent multiculturalism, that serve as the backdrop for the poets considered in this book?

Written in 1923, at a time when the New York state legislature amended a “disorderly conduct” law so that it could target gay men, Crane’s poem boldly invites readers to “witness” his life without “apprehen[ding]” him. The latter word, of course, can denote identifying and understanding – and also the act of arresting. A contemporaneous poem, “Recitative” similarly appeals to the reader to “look” without recognizing him. In these works and others, Crane studies how being seen can be a gateway either to greater social inclusion or to deeper social exclusion (or a messy mixture of both). He knows that those who are empowered predominantly determine a culture's ways of seeing and being seen. Brave appeals and demands by minority populations seeking greater social recognition, which have significantly structured a sequence of social movements (including some of those noted above), have secured important, incremental improvements for those populations. Yet participation within this inherently hierarchical system of social recognition (involving a recognizing class, those who are recognized, as well as those partially recognized, and those unrecognized) also can tacitly reinforce those hierarchies.

By inviting readers to “witness” and “look” without “recogniz[ing]” or “apprehend[ing],” Crane resists this approach to social inclusion. Instead, he is characteristic of a group of poets studied in this book (also including Walt Whitman, Jean Toomer, James Merrill, and Thylias Moss) who explore inclusion in terms of an affirmation of ontological proximity and equality rather than an epistemological confirmation of recognizability, locating an invitation to be-with rather than an urge to know-who at the core of their artistic practice. But the book traces how this approach has limits too. Prioritizing ontological affirmation rather than confirmation of recognizability too often comes close to indulging a naïve hope of establishing a world without labels.

Renarrating the sociopolitical dimensions of American poetry through the tension between these two models of inclusion helps us to reflect on the demand that we, albeit falteringly, keep trying to learn the language of democracy, a task we must continue today.

Learn more about Unlimited Eligibility? at the State University of New York Press website.

--Marshal Zeringue