Explication of Paul Stewart's Poem, "Ledger"

T.S. Eliot said that a deep understanding of poetry requires effort. It’s not just about passively taking it in. Stewart’s first line reads, “It’s not my job or my commission to make you feel at ease when you turn the page in my ledger.” Criticism, therefore, done well, is inseparable from appreciation. I have a strong desire to appreciate Paul Stewart’s poem “Ledger.” But I also know that something is often lost in explaining it. As Robert Frost once noted, "Poetry is what gets lost in translation." So, I will do my best to pull something from a reading of Stewart’s poem, even though there will be things lost.

It must be said from the outset that in Stewart’s poem, it is clear that he wishes to explain himself. This is, after all, his ledger, and he wishes to account for himself. The word “explicate” stands alone in his poem, and the letters “EX” and “I” are the only letters capitalized. Perhaps he wishes to X himself out, yet leaving himself in.

You can't fully appreciate this poem without understanding the artist, Escher. Stewart includes his name in the poem. M.C. Escher (1898–1972) is a well-loved but mixed figure in 20th-century art. Escher's art focuses on important themes like impossible geometry, infinite regress, tessellation, and the difference between how we see things and what is real.

Stewart shares a fascination with all four, especially impossible geometry. You can see this in both his poem and the artwork that goes with it. Stewart creates geometry with words, as he does with “easier control.” The letters fall and wind down like a bomb being dropped, or like the stairs in his drawing. In this way, control is maintained yet at the same time released.

The poem begins rapidly, punctuated with emphasis (R. A. P. I. D) and then “slow.” He doesn't hold the reader's hand: “No handholding…” Still, he wants to “distract” us from the disaster. One wonders if the “HELP” he mentions is the hope we won’t misinterpret who he is. He is “[trapped]” inside his own genius.

Then he uses numbers, specifically the numbers 10 and 6: “10safety10” and “six denotes.” The Pythagoreans viewed 10, known as the tetractys, as their most sacred number. It comes from adding 1, 2, 3, and 4. This number symbolizes the complete structure of numbers and the universe—point, line, plane, and solid. The word “safety” is nestled between the number 10. This suggests that Stewart feels a sense of self-security; it may also mean he is reaching out for help.

The number 6 is the first “perfect” number, and it is paired with the word “denote” which can mean a number of things. It's clear that the word has a certain certainty. This contrasts with Stewart’s later spelling of certainty as “ytniatrec.” Again, back to Escher's how we see things and what is real. The word “pleisure” is then used, a very personal, Scottish spelling of “pleasure.” Stewart is Scottish, and this adds another dimension in which the poem is personalized. Stewart wants us to know his poetry is both for pleasure and pain.

He plays with the words “silence” and “minute” (M.inute, C.ilence). The period slows the poem down, creating silence. This shows that Stewart wants to be heard and understood. Or, perhaps he wishes this for himself.

In the end, he asks the reader if we’re “tired.” My answer is a resounding “No.” I am not in the least tired after reading this poem numerous times and explicating it with my limited abilities.

Stewart is a man who wishes to understand himself and to use poetry for that purpose. He wants the reader to spend time with him. Take it slow. Use those moments to grasp the genius of his words and how he forms them.

Surely, there is more behind this poem. Perhaps references I have missed or other allusions I have been blinded to. But I do know it was a pleasure to think about and write about this poem. I will never look at Stewart’s work in the same way again.