THE POET AND THE DONKEY
By May Sarton
Norton, 1996
“Everything had gone stale for Andy, and the prospect of living another twenty or thirty years without a Muse and in this loathsome condition chilled him to the bone.” May Sarton, THE POET AND THE DONKEY
Andy, poor dear, is a poet in the dark throes of a dry spell. Hard as he tries, the poems just won’t come. In a surprisingly creative attempt to recover his Muse, he borrows a donkey. That’s right, a donkey. The truly astonishing thing is that the presence of ornery, lonesome and arthritic Whiffenpoof somehow brings Andy the clarity he needs. THE POET AND THE DONKEY is a quiet book, a simple book. It is somehow heartbreaking and joyful, ordinary and extra-ordinary at the same time.
As a writer, the premise of this story was compelling to me. Don’t we all live in fear of writer’s block? I do. And so I was disheartened to realize as I read Andy’s story that I had, perhaps, set myself up for a fall. You see, just this very week I got rid of Harold.
We inherited Harold and his good friend George, African clawed aquatic frogs, from neighbors over a year ago. The neighbors were moving out of the country and the frogs needed a good home; we took them in. George died straightaway and for no reason we could discern. To learn a little about Harold’s kind, and to perhaps get some tips on how to keep him alive, we borrowed a book on frog care from the library. That is how I discovered that African clawed aquatic frogs can live for thirty years. THIRTY YEARS! I also discovered that African clawed aquatic frogs require a good deal of maintenance. I was suddenly motivated to find a new home for Harold. I have enough to take care of around here! I simply cannot put frog tank maintenance on the list of things I must attend to before I write!
And so we found Harold a good home with the Reptile Rainforest Shows. (Yes, Harold will educate and inform children around Massachusetts for the next thirty years. Surely a better life than I could have offered him here.) And now that he is gone THE POET AND THE DONKEY ends up on my desk. I have never suffered writer’s block in the way Andy does in this book. But I have had stale times, days when the words just felt wrong. If and when those times come again, there will be no donkey, no frogs, and definitely no dogs (are you reading this, children of mine?) to set me straight. I will have no choice but to keep writing, day after day, page after drivel-drenched page. Eventually the words will come out right again. Won’t they?
Best,
Loree