I hope I get this right
"If I told him would he like it.
Would he like it if I told him."
You have the text at the end of your handout.
"Would he like it?
Would Napoleon?
Would-- would he like it?
If Napoleon-- if I told him--
if I told him-- if Napoleon.
Would he like it if I told him, if I told him if Napoleon?
Would he like it if Napoleon-- if Napoleon, if I told him?
If I told him-- if Napoleon--
if Napoleon-- if I told him?
If I told him-- would he like it?
Would he like it if I told him?
Now.
Not now.
And now.
Now.
Exactly and asking.
Feeling full-- feeling full for it.
Exactitude as kings.
So to beseech you as full as for it.
Exactly or as kings.
Shutters shut and open.
So do queens.
Shutter shut shutters.
And so shutters shut.
And shutters and so, and so shutters, and so shutters shut.
And so shutters shut and shutters and so.
And so shutters shut and so and also.
And also and so and so and also.
Exact resemblance.
To exact resemblance.
The exact resemblance as exact as a resemblance.
Exactly as resembling, exactly resembling.
Exactly in resemblance, exactly as resemblance,
exactly in resemblance.
For this is so.
Because.
Now actively repeat it all.
Have, hold and hear.
Actively repeat it all.
I judge judge.
As a resemblance to him.
Who comes first?
Napoleon the first.
Who comes too?
Coming, coming too.
Who goes there?
As they go they share.
Who shares all?
All is as all as as yet or as yet.
Now to date now to date.
Now and now and date and the date.
Who came first?
Napoleon at first.
Who came first?
Napoleon the first.
Who came first?
Napoleon first.
Presently.
Exactly do they do.
First exactly.
Exactly do they do too.
First exactly.
And first exactly.
Exactly do they do.
And first exactly and exactly.
And do they do at first exactly, and first exactly,
and do they do the first exact thing.
And do they do the first exactly at first exactly.
First as exactly.
As first as exactly.
Presently as presently and as presently.
He he he he and he and he and and he and he and he
and and as and as he and as he and.
He is and as he is, and as he is and he
is, he is and as he and he and as he is and he and he and--
and he and he.
Can curls rob can curls quote, quotable.
As presently.
As exactitude.
As trains.
Has trains.
As trains.
Presently.
Proportions.
Presently.
As proportions as presently.
Father and farther.
Was the king or room.
Father and whether.
Was there-- was there-- was there-- what was there?
What was there?
Was there?
There was there.
Whether and in there.
As even say so.
One island.
Two island.
Three.
The land.
Three the land.
Three I land.
Two I land.
One I land.
Two I land.
As a so.
They cannot.
A note.
They cannot a float.
They cannot.
They don't They cannot.
They as denote.
Miracles play.
Play fairly.
Play fairly well.
As well is well.
As or as presently.
Let me recite what history teaches history teaches."
It's a hell of a portrait, right?
[LAUGHTER]
Who is he?
"He he he he," recites the poet as if you were
laughing at the very question.
Here the phoneme "he" only blooms
into a grammatical and psychological subject
once it's followed by "is."
"He is and as he is."
Pronounced as a series of stressed
syllables, "he he he he" sounds like sardonic laughter.
But the unstressed he of "He is and as he is" invokes a man.
Like the "a" that opens Bernard Fay, parts of speech
assume new ontologies, new forms of being,
when they're voiced differently in this poem.
For examples, we need look no further
than the lexicon of resemblance that Stein mobilizes
throughout her portrait--
like, as, and so.
"So" can act as an adverb or a conjunction,
depending on when and how you say it.
"As" functions variously as an adverb, a conjunction,
or a preposition.
"Like" works the hardest of all, moonlighting
as an adverb, a conjunction, a preposition, an adjective,
a verb, or a noun.
I can't think of another word in our language that's like "like"
in this respect.
The poem's opening question, "If I told him would he like it"
exploits this diversity of meaning to subtly stress
the connection between pleasure, "Would he like it,"
and resemblance.
Will he like his likeness?
It all depends on who he is.
Napoleon would be a reasonable guess.
But that's too exact a resemblance
for Stein's curious art.
Napoleon surfaces in this portrait
because he's not unlike the diminutive yet commanding
subject of the poem, "If I Told Him: A Completed Portrait
of Picasso."
Stein, like Picasso, makes portraits
that show how likeness itself is not what it seems.
To some readers, "If I Told Him" may resemble nonsense,
a form of linguistic chaos.
But I think it's more like one of Rorschach's inkblots
when you look a little more closely.
Unlike chaos, Stein's repetitions
are never self-identical.
When the phrase, "exactly as as kings" becomes,
"exactly or as kings," the almost imperceptible difference
of phrasing casts any exact resemblance whatsoever
in doubt.
It's worth keeping in mind that "exactitude as kings"
is a pluralized, not absolute sovereign.
By the end of the poem, it's hard to say whether "a note"--
this is the last few lines of the poem--
whether "a note" is like or unlike "a float"
with any exactitude.
Are we talking about a musical note or a doctor's note?
A parade float or a root beer float?
The words sound alike, nonetheless.
Stein's rhyme makes us hear how "a note" resembles
"a float" as a sound, though they may be
quite different in other ways.
Sound implants an invisible network
of resemblance throughout Stein's portrait of Picasso
because "a note" "a float" sounds like "they dote,"
we sense the invisible relationship
between musical movement and desire.
Two lines later, "they as denote"
introduces meaning into the wavy equation.
Somehow it makes perfect sense that this series of rhymes
concludes with the line, "Miracles play."
Stein is a poet in the ecstatic tradition,
if you take her at her word.
Her verbal portraits awaken us to unseen
orders of resemblance.
In the end, I can't really say whether Stein
fills her literary canvas with internal differences
or internal resemblances.
Are shutters like queens?
What's the difference between asking, "If I told him would
he like it," and, "Would he like it if I told him"?
Is "now" the same thing when it appears three lines
after another "now"?
Maybe we can think of these things as not unlike.
Of course, the double negative is just a more roundabout way
of saying that one thing is like another.
But it's different, too.
Stein's portraits produce a field of the not
unlike in literary art.
Is it just me, or are there political ramifications
to this way of seeing resemblances?
On any given day, I'm not sure if I'm like a Freemason
or different from a Freemason.
But after gazing on Stein's inkblot of Bernard Fay.
I'd probably say, I'm not unlike a Freemason.
For the record, I'm totally not a Freemason.
[LAUGHTER]
What would our imagined communities
look like if this were our measure of affiliation?
They might resemble utopias or utter chaos.
I think Stein wants us to consider the possibilities.
By the end of "If I Told Him," we find ourselves
in a history lesson, "Let me recite what history teaches."
The poet concludes, "History teaches."
How is a portrait like a history lesson?
We've just come in from recess where our teacher reminded
us to "play fairly."
Or maybe it was music class where we
managed to "play fairly well."
Is the music room like a playground?
Is a poem like a painting?
Stein's experiments in resemblance
show us how different things are not unlike.
She makes portraits of objects, landscapes of plays,
geographies of identity.
Everything in her words is like a very strange likeness
and pink.
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]