I have never before heard of Greg Frankson. Apparently, he’s a Canadian poet. I have never attended any of his poetry readings. I don’t know him personally, and I don’t know anything about his life or behavior other than that he writes poetry.
Oh, except for one other thing.
He’s received a lifetime ban from a number of Canadian poetry events that I’ve never attended nor planned on attending (nothing personal, I’m sure they’re lovely occasions) for reasons of harassment and sexual assault. This was preceded and accompanied by the usual amount of soul-searching and anxiety in the communities involved. All I see is that a bunch of organizations familiar with Frankson saw the evidence, reviewed it with the sense of dread that this kind of attention usually brings, and in the end, universally condemned Frankson and delivered the only kind of punishment such groups can bring: expulsion.
The only reason I know about this, and in fact know more about the sordid behavior than I do Frankson’s poetry, is that Frankson is suing the woman who spoke out about his actions, as well as a slate of poetry organizations that took action to protect attendees at their events. He’s demanding something north of $300,000 for damages and loss of income (who knew poetry paid so well?)
Well, helloooo Barbra Streisand! What are you doing in this neighborhood?