Simonas Bernotas

- Lithuania -

Simonas Bernotas (b. 1993 in Kaunas) is a poet, translator, and publisher. He lives in Vilnius. He holds an MA in Intermediate Literature Studies from Vilnius University. 

 

Bernotas's poetry collection Reivas (Rave, published in 2019) earned the Best Debut prize from Lithuanian Ministry of Culture. Bernotas has translated works by such authors as Roberto Bolaño, Nicanor Parra, Federico García Lorca, Octavio Paz, Jorge Luis Borges, and Julio Cortázar. In 2023, Bernotas published his second poetry collection Pasakų parkas (Park of Folktales) which was shortlisted for the 2023 Book of the Year Award for Poetry.


Poet, translator, and publisher Simonas Bernotas (b. 1993) is the author of two critically noted poetry books – Reivas (“Rave,” 2019) and Pasakų parkas (“Fairy Tale Park,” 2023). He is succinct about his own writing: “I live in the present time, and I write about where I am, what I feel, and what surrounds me.” The result of his efforts is a provocative, ironic, social poetry.

 

The title of his most recent book is not a coincidence. With “Fairy Tale Park,” Bernotas emphasizes the source of the dramatic aspect of his poetry – the balance between reality and falsehood. Artists have always been perplexed by this topic. Consider a quote by the classic of Lithuanian modernist poetry, Henrikas Radauskas, who famously said “I don’t believe in the world, but in the fable I do,” thus professing his conviction that humanists can find solace in aestheticism and art amid the global catastrophes of the 20th century. It’s difficult to apply the same sentiment in the 21st century, which gives new meanings and contexts to the idea. Bernotas likes to stress the prevailing power dynamic – that we’re surrounded by falsehoods that influence our perception. For example, it’s common to think that if we follow the laws of capitalism and adhere to the community model, we’ll all live “happily ever after.” But sureties like these are not consolations offered by the poets; they’re a smokescreen created by sociopolitical circumstances that hinders our true understanding of what’s happening. Bernotas’s poetry pushes us to see it.

 

However, reality in Bernotas’s poems is already transformed, offering us a glimpse into a perpetual carnival where daily life, fables, and dystopias coexist. It’s a place of contradiction, one where societal norms and hierarchies are enlarged, inverted, or evolved: contemporary Don Quixotes are swiping photoshopped Dulcineas on their phone screens; a lyrical subject becomes a Hero or a political leader (“His Majesty the Lyrical Subject”); sacrilege is normalized in the form of burning modern literature books (“451° Fahrenheit”); job interviews and selection processes turn the individual into a jester for consumerism (“Audition for a temporary opening…”). Because of this carnivalesque condition, a certain tension emerges, bringing an awareness of the unseen force that compels us to abide by someone’s arbitrary rules.

 

Today, this kind of poetry does not raise the question of whether art can change the world. For Bernotas, it is first a means of reacting to certain stressors, openly criticizing, and using the absurd to diagnose a crisis of authenticity. The most powerful of these stressors are clichés of language and discourses found in literature and the public space. In the hands of a creative artist, these become both a subject matter and a target for criticism, covering a wide spectrum of topics that range from political propaganda to our personal decisions to hide behind masks. As Bernotas writes, it’s never clear whether the “lonely lover sings / or maybe / we are the song.” He emphasizes that discourses are ambivalent simulations of reality – they obscure the true “I” and contradict personal beliefs.

 

In classical poetry, a command of form and the ability to align it to one’s subject matter were considered marks of harmony and mastery. Bernotas makes a conscious attempt to show us that he knows the rules of others but applies them differently. His poetry is artificial, based not on inspiration or authority but “second-hand” imagery that he inherits from other sources. Thus, it’s natural that many of his poems are built on various blueprints of (popular) culture, stylistic imitations, or stencils (a job interview, the myth of Narcissus, or styles of music). Bernotas’s poetic range is impressive, at times even suggesting that these poems were written with a passion for separating phenomena into drawers, so to speak. Yet the most important feature of this book is that it stages a theater play for contemporary issues to act out their dramatic collision. Power games built on predictable schemes are not won by those who prove the objective truth, but those who voice their own truth the loudest. In Bernotas’s poetry, the “objective” system is disturbed by subjectivity – an angry laugh in the background, a hierarchy erased from a scheme, or a happy ending that makes even the most rational things appear grotesque and inconclusive. This seems to be a recurring feature of Bernotas’s work, one that’s brutal albeit necessary to make the staging work. 

 

These poems elicit an uneasy feeling that maybe we aren’t actually living in the best of times; that authentic existence and reason are still challenging. But perhaps that’s why Bernotas’s poetry is so striking? It’s take on reality is so surreal that it can wake us up to see the world for what it really is.

 

Written by Neringa Butnoriūtė

Translated by Markas Aurelijus Piesinas