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One of the author's specialties is the South. On Being Southern, she writes: "It's like being German. / Either you remember that yours was a defeated country / (The South breeds the finest soldiers, my uncle said, / himself a general in one of his incarnations) / or you acknowledge the guilt, not even your guilt, but-- / Can any white person write this, whose ancestors once kept slaves? / Of course there were "good" Germans."
For her five volumes of poetry over the course of her career, Jane Cooper (1924–2007) was deeply admired by her contemporaries, and teaching at Sarah Lawrence College for nearly forty years, she served as a mentor to many aspiring poets. Her elegant, honest, and emotionally and formally precise poems, often addressing the challenges of women’s lives—especially the lives of women in the arts—continue to resonate with a new generation of readers. Martha Collins and Celia Bland bring together several decades’ worth of essential writing on Cooper’s poetry. While some pieces offer close examination of Cooper’s process or thoughtful consideration of the craft of a single poem, the volume also features reviews of her collections, including a previously unpublished piece on her first book, The Weather of Six Mornings (1969), by James Wright, a lifelong champion of her work. Marie Howe, Jan Heller Levi, and Thomas Lux, among others, share personal remembrances of Cooper as a teacher, colleague, and inspiration. L. R. Berger’s moving tribute to Cooper’s final days closes the volume. This book has much to offer for both readers who already love Cooper’s work and new readers, especially among younger poets, just discovering her enduring poems.
Layering climate science, mythologies, nature writing, and personal experiences, this New York Times Notable Book presents a stunning reckoning with our current moment and with the literal and figurative end of time. Desert Notebooks examines how the unprecedented pace of destruction to our environment and an increasingly unstable geopolitical landscape have led us to the brink of a calamity greater than any humankind has confronted before. As inhabitants of the Anthropocene, what might some of our own histories tell us about how to confront apocalypse? And how might the geologies and ecologies of desert spaces inform how we see and act toward time—the pasts we have erased and paved over, this anxious present, the future we have no choice but to build? Ehrenreich draws on the stark grandeur of the desert to ask how we might reckon with the uncertainty that surrounds us and fight off the crises that have already begun. In the canyons and oases of the Mojave and in Las Vegas’s neon apocalypse, Ehrenreich finds beauty, and even hope, surging up in the most unlikely places, from the most barren rocks, and the apparent emptiness of the sky. Desert Notebooks is a vital and necessary chronicle of our past and our present—unflinching, urgent—yet timeless and profound.
As editor David Hamilton notes in his introduction to this eclectic anniversary volume of nearly eighty poems and stories, "To a considerable extent we have defined ourselves by them; thus Hard Choices, a generous sampling of the best and most interesting writing from the Iowa Review's first years, defines the past and the future of American literature.".
An epic true story of greed, power and a desire for legacy from an acclaimed Australian storyteller. July 2014, a lonely road at twilight outside Croppa Creek, New South Wales: 80-year-old farmer Ian Turnbull takes out a .22 and shoots environmental officer Glen Turner in the back. On one side, a farmer hoping to secure his family’s wealth on the richest agricultural soil in the country. On the other, his obsession: the government man trying to apply environmental laws. The brutal killing of Glen Turner splits open the story of our place on this land. Is our time on this soil a tale of tragedy or triumph – are we reaping what we’ve sown? Do we owe protection to the land, or does it owe us a living? And what happens when, in pursuit of an inheritance for his family, a man creates terrible consequences? Kate Holden brings her discerning eye to a gripping tale of law, land and entitlement. It is the story of Australia. ‘An incredible writer.’ —Books+Publishing ‘Kate Holden finds the epic thread in this crime and weaves a quintessential Australian story.’ —Chloe Hooper ‘Beautifully written, meticulously researched, carefully plotted and seamlessly stitched together. This book is a major contribution to the canon of Australian land and social history: a bedfellow with Francis Ratcliffe, W.E.H. Stanner, Tim Flannery, Bill Gammage and Bruce Pascoe ... Its power is in exposing a hidden, suppurating sore in the psyche of our nation.’ —Charles Massy, author of Call of the Reed Warbler ‘A gripping account of our land, and our selves.’ —Tara June Winch ‘I felt utterly in the grip of this agonising and powerful parable. Kate Holden brilliantly telescopes centuries of history and law into fatal conversations at a farm gate. As one man stalks another on a winter road, the whole psyche of modern Australian settlement comes under trial. An enthralling and disturbing tale told with deep insight and compassion.’ —Tom Griffiths ‘Beautifully and compellingly told, shattering in its reverberations, The Winter Road is a story for our times – a battle that is being fought the world over as we try to find a better way of managing the land and respecting the forces of nature that sustain us.’ —Isabella Tree ‘This is a special book, and I cannot thank Holden enough for writing it. By telling the human story of a man and his land, Holden reveals the timelessness of brigalow country, and threads a narrative that is ecological, humane and grounding.’ —Anna Krien
This impressive volume provides over 1,700 biographical entries on poets writing in English from 1910 to the present day, including T. S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas, and Carol Ann Duffy. Authoritative and accessible, it is a must-have for students of English and creative writing, as well as for anyone with an interest in poetry.
Room to Fly is a unique journal—or ongoing memoir—by a woman who traces the elusive contours of cultural perceptions East and West, welcoming us into the intimate geography of individual lives. The book takes its shape and direction from a tenet of Japanese Sumi painting: If you depict a bird, give it space to fly. Padma Hejmadi explores the human spaces surrounding language, landscape, literacy and illiteracy, music, dance, legend, the cadence of ancient craft, and the ceaselessly unfolding layers of family relationships. Part autobiography, part lively meditation, Room to Fly represents a new genre with an old diction. Hejmadi's spare, luminous prose combines lyricism with humor and intellectual rigor, drawing us from Bombay to the Bahamas, from Japan to New England, the Greek Isles to New Mexico.
Kazim Ali is a poet, novelist, and essayist whose work explores themes of identity, migration, and the intersections of cultural and spiritual traditions. His poetry is known for its lyrical and expressive language, as well as its exploration of themes such as love, loss, and the search for meaning in a rapidly changing world. "Sukun" means serenity or calm, and a sukun is also a form of punctuation in Arabic orthography that denotes a pause over a consonant. This Sukun draws a generous selection from Kazim's six previous full-length collections, and includes 35 new poems. It allows us to trace Ali's passions and concerns, and take the measure of his art: the close attention to the spiritual and the visceral, and the deep language play that is both musical and plain spoken. [sample poem] The Fifth Planet Come, early summer in the mountains, and come, strawberry moon, and carry me softly in the silver canoe on wires to the summit, where in that way of late night useless talk, the bright dark asks me, "What is the thing you are most afraid of?" and I already know which lie I will tell. There were six of us huddled there in the cold, leaning on the rocks lingering in the dark where I do not like to linger, looking up at the sharp round pinnacle of light discussing what shapes we saw—rabbit, man, goddess—but that brightness for me was haunted by no thing, no shadow at all in the lumens. What am I, what am I, I kept throwing out to the hustling silence. No light comes from the moon, he's just got good positioning and I suppose that's the answer, that's what I'm most afraid of, that I'm a mirror, that I have no light of my own, that I hang in empty space in faithful orbit around a god or father neither of Whom will ever see me whole. I keep squinting to try to see Jupiter which the newspaper said would be found near the moon but it's nowhere, they must have lied. Or like god, there is too much reflection, headsplitting and profane, scraping up every shadow, too much light for anyone to see.