Mohammed Al Herz: ‘I cannot tell where the poet in me ends and the critic begins’

These reasons became a driving force for me to embrace critique. I saw it as a valuable aid in understanding the essence of modern poetry, especially when I was faced with the contemporary poetic experiments of friends and felt a pressing need to connect with their texts deeply. However, I exercised caution, avoiding the lure of rigid and mechanistic academic theorisation.

In the modern era, the Western styles of criticism made their mark on the literary world, and many Arab critics imported their methods. On what foundations did you build your unique critical experience?

My exposure to Western schools of criticism wasn't extensive enough to craft a distinctive critical experience for me.

I think the mood of the poet governs my critical approach. I don't hold back my emotions when encountering a beautiful text; instead, I engage with it and write about it. This way of engaging with creative texts doesn't find its way into the toolkit of a professional critic. Here lies the difference as I see it.

I lean towards the poet-critic, who, in my view, is better suited to understand, interpret, and internally develop the text. On the other hand, the professional critic excels in understanding and interpreting the text externally.

In essence, poetic texts evolve within cultural, literary, and social contexts linked to the poet's experience with other poets, acting as both an influencer and an influenced entity. This evolution is steered by the poet, whether consciously or unconsciously.

However, from my perspective, the poet-critic possesses the necessary tools and logical language to interpret this evolution, capturing it from within. On the other hand, professional critics, in certain aspects of their work, tends to fall into the trap of theory.

As such, they may view texts as societal or cultural phenomena –some cultural theories certainly emphasise this perspective – or explore the theory's limits and horizons without paying mind to the aesthetic elements that the text offers through the text rather than the theory.

Another aspect of the professional critic I value is their historical spirit, placing texts and experiences within their historical context and offering an additional dimension for understanding and interpretation.

After releasing several critiques examining the Saudi cultural scene, what distinguishes this landscape the most, in your view?

We must distinguish between pre-Vision 2030 and post-Vision 2030.

Over three decades, culture was perceived as either literary pursuits – concentrating on poetry, short stories, novels, and modest theatre, and officially secured and nurtured by institutions – or as explorations into thought, society, and religion.

These explorations, in turn, had two orientations: intellectual endeavours relying on the individual efforts of intellectuals and thinkers through seminars, media platforms, and newspapers or academics presenting their ideas to students through academic discourse.

In both, there were no clear signs of the emergence of influential intellectual movements, nor was there centralised authority. Of course, this is unless we connect the cultural scene with its robust ties to educational policies and their profound impact on the Saudi individual's perceptions of culture, homeland, the world.

After the advent of Vision 2030, a transformative phase unfolded, marking one of the most profound shifts in the recent history of Saudi society. The Vision's strategic approach unveiled dormant, unexploited sources of strength within the community: profound, diverse, rich heritage, inherited and contemporary forms of arts, fashion, theatre, music, cinema, and more.

In my perspective, Vision 2030 not only shattered the conventional image of the Saudi individual, but concurrently crafted a new narrative that portrayed Saudis as global participants actively contributing to the evolution of the world.

What motivates you to write poetry?

It's the will to articulate a retrospective stance, stemming from various dimensions: worries, immersion (though not in the mystical sense), and a pause in the daily rhythms of life.

I'm not the kind of poet who hastily captures events, moments, or transient musings with lightning speed. Like all humans, I navigate the realms of sorrow, joy, pain, solitude, tragedy, and loss. Each poet, contingent on emotional and mental preparedness, talent, and cultural context, gives poetic expression to these shared human encounters.

I align with poets who allow themselves to experience the impact of life's shocks, whether brief or enduring, eventually turning them into verses once they are etched deep upon the memory.

Your journey started with traditional verse and ended with prose poetry. What revelations has prose poetry brought you?

I perceive the prose poem as a sealed treasure trove of gold and diamonds, firmly enclosed within my grasp. Attempting to unlock its myriad closures proves elusive.

What the guideless expedition that is prose poetry gave me is that repeated endeavour to access this precious trove. The treasure might be a figment of imagination, yet it paves a path for exploration and nurtures literary curiosity, serving as a powerful incentive in comprehending text, humanity, and the world.

When writing poetry, does the internal critic direct the verses like a maestro, or does it take a liberated stance and allow a spontaneous verbal dance to unfold?

It is hard to tell where the poet in me ends and the critic begins during the act of writing. Defining that limit is like drawing lines with an ever-fading pencil.

The sway of dominance is determined by the spectrum of experiences accumulated in writing and understanding poetry, without being overbearing.

But I still question these absolute boundaries. Reflecting on my early poetic endeavours, particularly the collection Lighter than Feathers, Deeper than Pain, the ambience was steeped in a philosophically driven critique with narrative undertones.

However, this atmosphere vanished in subsequent collections, giving rise to a fluid integration of critique and sensitivity, blending seamlessly into the lyrical composition.

How do you handle the complexities of language while navigating through the depths of poetry?

I have come to realise that each language, maybe even each word, bears the weight of its historical lineage and intricate narratives.

Inspired by the surreal dimensions of the poetic universe, I try to set these linguistic burdens free and reshape them within the diverse contexts of poetry. Detaching language from its historical anchors, I craft words into fresh horizons of meaning.

While this grants a certain ease of manoeuvring, it also propels me into a labyrinth of enigma, where poetic language transcends mere skill and becomes a gateway to the complex territories of linguistic contemplation and cultural memory.

Later, I understood that 'language is the house of being', as Heidegger said, the medium through which we establish the conditions of our existence, wielding its authority even through its subtle power. Consequently, when crafting poetry, my struggle to conjure language is entwined with this profound understanding of language as the very essence of our existence.

Summoning language into the text is not merely a linguistic act, but an invoking of one's unique approach to navigating the world. As Roland Barthes aptly stated, style is the man himself, emphasising the integral connection between language and our lived experiences.

You once said that poetry is a personal pain. How can it be a source of pain if it liberates painful emotions and leads them to triumph in the form of a poem? Is poetry a source of pain, or is pain the motivation for poetic expression?

This dual nature of poetry encapsulates both aspects, their fusion dependent on our nuanced understanding of the term pain, which is closely linked to words signifying emotional distress.

Poetry serves as a release, untethering us from psychological restraints and deeply rooted sentiments. Simultaneously, it deepens the vulnerability of a poet's soul, particularly if the poet's mental, physical, and social constitutions are fragile.

This delicate equilibrium can lead to despair and, tragically, even self-destructive tendencies and suicide, and the poignant fates of numerous revered poets bear testament to this.

Moreover, there's a type of pain intricately linked to the birth of a poem, akin to the pain a mother feels during the delivery of her child, which ultimately transforms into an existential joy.

Do you think the surge of prose poetry elevated prose?

Not as an outright assertion. From Gibran Khalil Gibran to Urkhan Muyassar, Nizar Qabbani, and Hussein Mardan, not to mention the Egyptian Renaissance literati, many visionary writers and poets have shaped prose through their unique methods yet refrained from declaring their prose as poetry.

Prose thrived alongside the evolving landscape of Arabic traditional poetry, whose evolution was predominantly tied to content and rhythmic, semantic expanse.

Yet the poets who contemplated prose poetry posited theories that did not leave an impact on subsequent prose poets in a way that significantly bolsters the evolution of poetry.

Reasons include poets being absorbed in the application of theoretical frameworks that curb the poetic adventure, although theory fundamentally hinges on the freedom to write and break free from constraints.

This does not apply to the history of prose poetry since its inception in contemporary Arabic literature. Nevertheless, it stands out as a distinctive phenomenon within this literature, differentiating it from global literary traditions.

How far have you come in writing your autobiography, and what key themes shape its narrative?

The first part is complete. It features an array of themes, each illuminating a specific chapter. I recount the maritime tale of my life, which I've lived between Al-Ahsa and Muharraq in Bahrain, two cities separated by the Arabian Gulf. I also discuss fathers and the meaning of land.

I'm taking my time. I'm not in a rush to unveil it to the world at this moment.

Through your critical lens, how do you envision the future of the cultural movement in Saudi Arabia?

Our cultural landscape is a beehive buzzing with continuous events, activities, festivals, and forums throughout the year, with unlimited support from state institutions.

These efforts are set to propel the Saudi cultural scene to the most dynamic and influential in the Arab world, opening broad horizons not only for local intellectuals, writers, and thinkers, but for their peers from all across the Arab world as well.