An Infinite Number of Monkeys

Ronald Koertge

 After all the Shakespeare, the book
 of poems they type is the saddest
 in history.

 But before they can finish it,
 they have to wait for that Someone
 who is always

 looking to look away. Only then
 can they strike the million
 keys that spell

 humiliation and grief, which are
 the great subjects of Monkey
 Literature

 and not, as some people still
 believe, the banana
 and the tire.

Commentary

1997

A wonderfully quirky little poem, with a dash of pathos thrown in. For those of you unfamiliar with the infinite monkeys meme, it runs thus: “If an infinite number of monkeys randomly hit the keys of an infinite number of typewriters, would they eventually produce the complete works of Shakespeare?” The idea that the monkeys are just waiting for the “Someone who is always looking” to turn away for an instant, so that they can produce their masterpiece, harmonises nicely with the theme, harking back to childhood fantasies of toys that came to life the minute everyone was asleep.

In fact, the poem is very reminiscent of Billy Collins, with its reflections on art, poetry and the interaction between the creator and the audience, and it’s wonderful “what if” suspension of disbelief, a sort of magic unrealism that draws the reader in and invites him to participate in the process. And who knows - maybe humiliation and grief really are the great subjects of Monkey Literature.

— Martin


The Wondering Minstrels, poem #1483 · 21 March 2004

Poem selected by Martin DeMello

Fair use

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From the Wondering Minstrels mailing list, 1999–2008.

NKSH · 28 March 2004

I see the subject of this poem rather differently. Doesn’t the “Someone who is always watching” refer to human beings, watching the monkeys to see how they are like us, and keeping them in subjugation towards us? And it seems to me Koertge is saying that humiliation and grief are the real subjects of monkey literature because humiliation and grief are what monkeys experience at the hands of their human cousins. Since, after all, one writes what one knows, and a thousand monkeys captive before a thousand typewriters would have a more intimate knowledge of those two emotions than of bananas and tires.

carlynn