One night at Ragdale, a woman talked about her inability to write, despite the gift of time at this fabulous art colony. Her first book and subsequent stories had been told in a voice of brilliant, pointed humor. Now, she was finding, the ironic voice that had served her so well didn’t allow a deeper plunge into the pain that was her subject. But what choice did she have, she asked. “After all, the opposite of irony is sentimentality.”

“Maybe,” I said, “the opposite of irony is sincerity.”

Last week, Alan Kaufman posted a Red Room blog about what he called “Beat Gravitas.” Alan wrote that Ginsberg and Kerouac weren’t interested in sarcasm, but in the sacred.

“The Life and Times of Allen Ginsberg” (a movie now on dvd) offers many opportunities to watch Ginsberg come from, and insist on, this sacred sincerity. One example: Ginsberg didn’t agree with the Yippies’ anarchic approach to the 1968 Democractic Convention demonstrations; he thought it unconscionable to encourage young people to attend because of their principles, while nearly rejoicing in the probability that the scene would become violent. Ginsberg was there, doing everything he knew how to do – poetry and om chants – to encourage the hordes to take a deep collective breath. Ginsberg looked nearly a fool. In the film he spoke about how little he knew at that point about meditation or chanting. But he was willing – willing to look a fool, willing to be ignorant – in order to take advantage of his public persona and put himself to positive use.

In perhaps my favorite exchange in the movie, Ginsberg appears on William Buckley’s TV show, “Firing Line.” Buckley, of course, was a master of cool irony; the mere rise of his eyebrow spoke volumes. Ginsberg was in full hippie regalia, hairy and wild eyed. Buckley began with some snide question. Ginsberg offered to say a poem. He recited, his eyes intent on Buckley’s face. Buckley put on every cool mask he could manage, but Ginsberg’s sacred sincerity never wavered. For one moment, Buckley smiled – a real smile, a sweet smile. Ginsberg didn’t smirk at this victory, he just sang and stayed steady.

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