Pub Date : 2023-11-29DOI: 10.1353/abr.2023.a913417
Frederick Luis Aldama
<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span> <p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> Interventions<span>An Interview with Cristina García</span> <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Frederick Luis Aldama </li> </ul> <p>Since Cristina García burst onto the global literary stage in 1992 with her critically acclaimed debut novel, <em>Dreaming in Cuban</em>, she emerged as a singular, significant force in the shaping of our contemporary world letters. Her many novels have been translated and published in numerous languages, reaching a wide international audience. Her diverse body of work encompasses not only celebrated poetry but also children's and young adult books as well as edited literary anthologies. Cristina's consequential creations introduce us to an array of vividly imagined characters that include extraordinary matriarchs, ex-guerilla activists, artists, magicians, and polyglot drag queens as well as bloodthirsty dictators and machista patriarchs.</p> <p>Cristina possesses an immeasurable talent for vividly portraying a wide spectrum of human experiences and backgrounds. She also dares to powerfully pause, push open, and stretch wide our engagement with oft-cataclysmic moments in world history; great wars and revolutions work as the push-pull forces that scatter, re-root, and unite characters. Indeed, the power of Cristina's pen is precisely her ability to powerfully transport us through portals to grand historical events where we can sink our mind and bodies deeply into the minutiae of everyday sensations, feelings, actions, and interactions of her wondrous panoply of protagonists. Cristina's fiction, like that of other prodigious literary talents who wedge fiction into history, such as Luis Urrea, Sandra Cisneros, Rosario Castellanos, Reyna Grande, Reinaldo Arenas, Ruth Behar, Fernando del Paso, and Junot Díaz, wakes us to the bigness of world-altering events as they resonate in our daily interactions, reflections, sensations, and dispositions.</p> <p>Cristina's achievements and accolades are legion. She has been nominated for the National Book Award and has received esteemed honors such as the Janet Heidinger Kafka Prize, the Northern California Book Award, and the Whiting Writers' Award. Additionally, she has been granted prestigious <strong>[End Page 69]</strong> fellowships including the Guggenheim, NEA, and Princeton's Hodder Fellowship. Throughout Cristina's career, she has held notable positions at institutions such as UT Austin's Michener Center for Writers, the University of Miami, and as University Chair in Creative Writing at Texas State University– San Marcos.</p> <p>During the exciting launch of her whirlwind worldwide book tour of <em>Vanishing Maps</em> (2023), I had the great pleasure of learning from Cristina García.</p> <strong><small>frederick luis aldama</small></strong>: <p>Cristina, what drives you to write nonfiction, poetry, and fiction?</p> <strong><small>cristina garcía</small></s
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Pub Date : 2023-11-29DOI: 10.1353/abr.2023.a913428
Thomas C. Marshall
<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span> <p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>Finalists</em> by Rae Armantrout <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Thomas C. Marshall (bio) </li> </ul> <em><small>finalists</small></em><br/> Rae Armantrout<br/> Wesleyan University Press<br/> https://www.weslpress.org/9780819580672/finalists/<br/> 176 pages; Print, $16.95 <p><em>Finalists</em> is, as we usually like a book of poetry to be, a treasury of small pleasures. The prevailing trends have taught us to expect little insights and clever wording. This book, however, uses those expectations in order to critique them. They are not just met here, but made part of how the book attacks the usual. Rae Armantrout's works have all along been twists on poetry's ways, incorporating the expected while offering new perspectives on expectations themselves.</p> <p>From "Compound" in <em>Crawl Out Your Window 11</em> (1983) to "Crescendo," prominently placed in the October 18, 2021, <em>New Yorker</em>, Armantrout's short lyrics have kept up a throbbing basso continuo of tension within perceptions of the world and our ways of putting them into language or finding them there. Those two poems, embracing forty years of an expanding career that has brought her a Pulitzer and other honors, have in them the momentary perceptions we expect as insight from the best poets along with an undertow of penetrating social critique. Armantrout's analyses are subtle, hidden in an approach that looks at things and ways of putting things—and at the world that encompasses both of those—with the same ever-so-slight snarkiness that Dickinson used in "Some Keep the Sabbath." One might call these poems <strong>[End Page 125]</strong> "ana-lyrical," as they engage both analytical critical thinking and lyrical musicality in their wording. "Crescendo" and "Circles" are two of the many clear examples of this approach in <em>Finalists</em>.</p> <p>There are many dozens of other fine, enjoyably intelligent poems in the book. They often play one kind of diction against another. "Hang On" opens the volume with an "unlikely eye" and what it notices: like an empty shopping cart / parked on a ledge / above a freeway." The poem moves from this social-symptom image to contemplation of the beauties of a barnacle. "Ceremonial" juxtaposes some chemistry of poisons with a critique of communion. "My Place" examines emotion as if "from a call center perspective." But the one the <em>New Yorker</em> put right in the middle of their article on Paul McCartney's premiere party for Peter Jackson's <em>Let It Be</em> (2021) film presents the complexity of Armantrout's analysis right where it is born—in "languaging." They show how something gets put into words and what the words have to do with how we see that thing. A little close reading can unfold this process in those two two-part poems for us, and show us how to sense it throughout <em>Finalists</em>.
代替摘要，这里是内容的简短摘录:评审:决赛选手由雷·阿曼特劳特托马斯·c·马歇尔(传记)决赛选手雷·阿曼特劳特卫斯理大学出版社https://www.weslpress.org/9780819580672/finalists/ 176页;就像我们通常喜欢的那样，《决赛》是一本充满小快乐的诗集。主流趋势告诉我们，不要指望什么洞见和聪明的措辞。然而，这本书用这些期望来批判它们。这些问题不仅在这里得到了满足，而且成为了这本书攻击常规的一部分。雷·阿曼特劳特的作品一直是对诗歌方式的扭曲，在融入预期的同时，为预期本身提供了新的视角。从1983年《爬出你的窗户11》(Crawl Out Your Window 11)中的“复合”(Compound)，到2021年10月18日《纽约客》(New Yorker)上的显著位置上的“渐强”(Crescendo)，阿曼特罗的短歌词一直保持着一种跳动的低音持续，表达着对世界的感知以及我们将它们表达为语言或在那里找到它们的方式。这两首诗涵盖了她40年来不断扩大的职业生涯，为她带来了普利策奖和其他荣誉，其中包含了我们所期望的最优秀诗人的洞察力，以及穿透性的社会批判的潜流。阿曼特劳特的分析是微妙的，隐藏在一种看待事物和放置事物的方式——以及包含这两者的世界——的方法中，用狄金森在《有些人守安息日》中所使用的同样非常轻微的讽刺。有人可能会称这些诗为“反抒情”，因为它们在措辞上兼具分析性批判性思维和抒情音乐性。“渐强”和“圆圈”是决赛中使用这种方法的两个明显例子。这本书中还有许多其他优秀的、令人愉快的智慧诗歌。他们经常用一种措辞对抗另一种措辞。“Hang On”以一种“不太可能的眼光”打开了这本书，它注意到:就像一个空的购物车/停在一个窗台上/在高速公路上。这首诗从这个社会症状的形象转移到对藤壶之美的沉思。《仪式》将一些毒药的化学反应与对共融的批判并列。《我的地方》仿佛“从呼叫中心的角度”审视情感。但是，《纽约客》在一篇关于保罗·麦卡特尼为彼得·杰克逊的电影《顺其自然》(Let It Be, 2021)举办的首映式派对的文章中，把这句话放在中间，展示了阿曼特劳特分析的复杂性，这正是它诞生于“语言”的地方。它们展示了事物是如何用语言表达的，以及这些语言与我们看待事物的方式有什么关系。细读一下这两首两部分的诗，就能让我们了解这一过程，并向我们展示如何在决赛中感受到这一过程。“渐强”的两部分分别被称为“光1”和“光2”。两部分似乎都看到了花园灌木上同样引人注目的光线，第二部分可能受益于第一部分中更详细的描述。第一部分从这幅对傍晚光线的敏锐描绘转向思念某物或某人的情感。“我会想念你的，”上面写着，“当你离开的时候，我会非常想念你。”——这句话配得上贺曼公司(Hallmark)的一首诗，但“你”似乎指的是在某一刻的光线下观赏梨花和仿橘子的景色。“如果我把目光移开/或者如果一片云遮住了太阳，我会想念你的”暗示了受光和它改变事物的方式影响的快乐的短暂性。接着，这首诗宣称“我怀念这一刻/因为它正在发生”，所以它把我们带到一个更大的哲学或现象学框架，关于我们如何以各种方式“怀念”这一刻的一切。这当然是一首完整的诗，是我们多年来一直期待的那种:形象、洞察力和进一步的感知——所有这些都在纪律严明的诗人“不太可能的眼睛”和头脑中，简单地安排好了，所以我们毫无疑问会“理解它”。然后是《光明2》。也许这是诗人笔记本上的下一页，下一次尝试或尝试不要错过……
{"title":"Finalists by Rae Armantrout (review)","authors":"Thomas C. Marshall","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913428","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913428","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>Finalists</em> by Rae Armantrout <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Thomas C. Marshall (bio) </li> </ul> <em><small>finalists</small></em><br/> Rae Armantrout<br/> Wesleyan University Press<br/> https://www.weslpress.org/9780819580672/finalists/<br/> 176 pages; Print, $16.95 <p><em>Finalists</em> is, as we usually like a book of poetry to be, a treasury of small pleasures. The prevailing trends have taught us to expect little insights and clever wording. This book, however, uses those expectations in order to critique them. They are not just met here, but made part of how the book attacks the usual. Rae Armantrout's works have all along been twists on poetry's ways, incorporating the expected while offering new perspectives on expectations themselves.</p> <p>From \"Compound\" in <em>Crawl Out Your Window 11</em> (1983) to \"Crescendo,\" prominently placed in the October 18, 2021, <em>New Yorker</em>, Armantrout's short lyrics have kept up a throbbing basso continuo of tension within perceptions of the world and our ways of putting them into language or finding them there. Those two poems, embracing forty years of an expanding career that has brought her a Pulitzer and other honors, have in them the momentary perceptions we expect as insight from the best poets along with an undertow of penetrating social critique. Armantrout's analyses are subtle, hidden in an approach that looks at things and ways of putting things—and at the world that encompasses both of those—with the same ever-so-slight snarkiness that Dickinson used in \"Some Keep the Sabbath.\" One might call these poems <strong>[End Page 125]</strong> \"ana-lyrical,\" as they engage both analytical critical thinking and lyrical musicality in their wording. \"Crescendo\" and \"Circles\" are two of the many clear examples of this approach in <em>Finalists</em>.</p> <p>There are many dozens of other fine, enjoyably intelligent poems in the book. They often play one kind of diction against another. \"Hang On\" opens the volume with an \"unlikely eye\" and what it notices: like an empty shopping cart / parked on a ledge / above a freeway.\" The poem moves from this social-symptom image to contemplation of the beauties of a barnacle. \"Ceremonial\" juxtaposes some chemistry of poisons with a critique of communion. \"My Place\" examines emotion as if \"from a call center perspective.\" But the one the <em>New Yorker</em> put right in the middle of their article on Paul McCartney's premiere party for Peter Jackson's <em>Let It Be</em> (2021) film presents the complexity of Armantrout's analysis right where it is born—in \"languaging.\" They show how something gets put into words and what the words have to do with how we see that thing. A little close reading can unfold this process in those two two-part poems for us, and show us how to sense it throughout <em>Finalists</em>.","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"14 11","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-11-29","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"138512509","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-11-29DOI: 10.1353/abr.2023.a913424
Austin Alexis
<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span> <p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>My Body Lives Like a Threat</em> by Megha Sood <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Austin Alexis (bio) </li> </ul> <em><small>my body lives like a threat</small></em><br/> Megha Sood<br/> FlowerSong Press<br/> https://www.flowersongpress.com/store-j9lRp/p/my-body-lives-like-a-threat<br/> 96 pages; Print, $18.00 <p>Megha Sood's debut full-length poetry collection, <em>My Body Lives Like a Threat</em>, is a model of contemporary poetry at its most political. Centering around timely issues such as police brutality, the Black Lives Matter movement, immigration policy, bodily autonomy, and fake news, the book is an example of a poet's passionate engagement with the public turmoil and crises of our time. Even a glance at the table of contents reveals the collection's predilection, since the book is divided into five sections with bluntly political associations: I: Black Truth; II: War and Peace; III: My Body Is Not an Apology; IV: A Just Immigration Policy; V: My Body Lives Like a Threat.</p> <p>The first section references a number of deaths of people of color, particularly Black men, at the hands of police officers (or biased citizens) in recent years. One poem, "A Nation in a Chokehold," ends with a list of victims of law enforcement: "Here the nation remembers: / <em>Eric Garner, Briyonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd</em> / Here the nation learns again how to <em>breathe / Freely!</em>" (the italics are Sood's). She uses them to emphasize the importance of each individual life and to exclaim over the senseless demise of these individuals. The poem "An Act of Self Defense" is dedicated to Ahmaud Arbery, and alludes to his mother's grief over his death, which ironically occurred while he was peacefully jogging in a neighborhood in Georgia and was not practicing his "right to the <em>Second Amendment</em>" to bear arms. Other poems in this section use the vocabulary associated with police misconduct: chokehold, asphyxiated, "<em>broken prison system</em>," lynched, police gun, "protest-laced streets." The poet stresses the universality to abuse in "Does Hurt Have a Gender?" by ending that poem with these interrogatory lines: <strong>[End Page 107]</strong></p> <blockquote> <p><span>Do screams have a religion too? Do cries have a race?</span><span>Does hurt have a gender? Do wounds have a nationality?</span></p> <p><span>Does your tongue curl into sin when you call out my name?</span><span>Does the triteness of ideologies still mollify your pain?</span></p> </blockquote> <p>Some of the poems in this section of the book are prose poems, as if the extremity of the violence that is chronicled is too disturbing to be rendered in verse. Two such poems—"The People We Love, the People We Care" and "A Revolution by Choice"—emphasize the isolation of activism against abuse as well as the continuing struggle t
代替摘要，这里是内容的简短摘录:回顾:我的身体生活像一个威胁由梅加·苏德奥斯汀·亚历克西斯(传记)我的身体生活像一个威胁梅加·苏德FlowerSong出版社https://www.flowersongpress.com/store-j9lRp/p/my-body-lives-like-a-threat 96页;梅加·苏德的处女作长篇诗集《我的身体像威胁一样活着》是当代诗歌最具政治性的典范。这本书围绕着警察暴行、“黑人的命也是命”运动、移民政策、身体自治和假新闻等及时的问题展开，是一位诗人对我们这个时代的公共动荡和危机充满激情的参与的一个例子。只要看一眼目录，就能看出这本书的偏好，因为这本书分为五个部分，与政治有着直接的联系:1:黑色真相;第二章:战争与和平;3 .《我的身体不是道歉》四、公正的移民政策;V:我的身体活得像个威胁。第一部分提到近年来有色人种，特别是黑人死于警察(或有偏见的公民)之手的事件。一首名为《一个被扼住脖子的国家》(A Nation in A窒息)的诗以一列执法受害者的名单结尾:“在这里，这个国家记住了:/埃里克·加纳、布里约娜·泰勒、阿莫德·阿贝里、乔治·弗洛伊德/在这里，这个国家再次学会了如何自由呼吸!”(斜体是苏德的)。她用它们来强调每个个体生命的重要性，并对这些个体毫无意义的死亡表示哀悼。《自卫法案》这首诗是献给阿默德·阿贝里的，暗指他母亲对他的死亡的悲痛，讽刺的是，他在乔治亚州的一个社区平静地慢跑，没有行使他的“第二修正案权利”，没有携带武器。这部分的其他诗歌使用了与警察不当行为相关的词汇:扼喉、窒息、“破碎的监狱系统”、私刑、警察的枪、“抗议充斥的街道”。诗人在《伤害有性别吗?》中强调了虐待的普遍性，他在诗的结尾用了这些质疑的句子:尖叫也有宗教信仰吗?哭泣有种族吗?伤害有性别吗?伤口有国籍吗?当你呼唤我的名字时，你的舌头是否卷成罪恶?陈腐的意识形态还能缓解你的痛苦吗?书中这一部分的一些诗是散文诗，似乎记录的极端暴力太令人不安，无法用诗来表达。两首这样的诗——“我们爱的人，我们关心的人”和“选择的革命”——强调了反对虐待的行动主义的孤立，以及与虐待作斗争的持续斗争。第二部分转向国际，诗歌讲述了诸如2020年头几周伊朗和美国之间的紧张关系;波斯尼亚、苏丹、伊拉克、卢旺达和叙利亚的种族灭绝;“家被烧成灰烬”，这可能发生在任何地方;以及在战争中唤起上帝和祈祷的诗歌。虽然没有明确提到堕胎的权利，但第三部分提到了很多关于身体、血液、子宫和分娩的内容。因为这一部分的诗大多是用第一人称写的，而不是书中前几部分的第三人称诗，所以这一部分名为“我的身体不是道歉”，有一种私人和亲密的感觉。“我不想让你在半夜安慰我/只为了在早晨解开我的痛苦”和“真相从敞开的伤口中撕开”等台词是这一部分的特点，在这里，感官和肉体取代了该系列前几部分明显的政治语言。第四部分“公正的移民政策”，将政府的权力与“AK - 47步枪”和“美国边境特工摧毁留给移民的物资”并置，与移民在美国寻求庇护时的脆弱性进行对比。尽管他们很脆弱，但许多移民都带着一种挑衅的语气:“我要渗进去，我不需要救世主。”具有讽刺意味的是，有时诗歌作者的焦虑会在人物宣称……
{"title":"My Body Lives Like a Threat by Megha Sood (review)","authors":"Austin Alexis","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913424","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913424","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>My Body Lives Like a Threat</em> by Megha Sood <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Austin Alexis (bio) </li> </ul> <em><small>my body lives like a threat</small></em><br/> Megha Sood<br/> FlowerSong Press<br/> https://www.flowersongpress.com/store-j9lRp/p/my-body-lives-like-a-threat<br/> 96 pages; Print, $18.00 <p>Megha Sood's debut full-length poetry collection, <em>My Body Lives Like a Threat</em>, is a model of contemporary poetry at its most political. Centering around timely issues such as police brutality, the Black Lives Matter movement, immigration policy, bodily autonomy, and fake news, the book is an example of a poet's passionate engagement with the public turmoil and crises of our time. Even a glance at the table of contents reveals the collection's predilection, since the book is divided into five sections with bluntly political associations: I: Black Truth; II: War and Peace; III: My Body Is Not an Apology; IV: A Just Immigration Policy; V: My Body Lives Like a Threat.</p> <p>The first section references a number of deaths of people of color, particularly Black men, at the hands of police officers (or biased citizens) in recent years. One poem, \"A Nation in a Chokehold,\" ends with a list of victims of law enforcement: \"Here the nation remembers: / <em>Eric Garner, Briyonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd</em> / Here the nation learns again how to <em>breathe / Freely!</em>\" (the italics are Sood's). She uses them to emphasize the importance of each individual life and to exclaim over the senseless demise of these individuals. The poem \"An Act of Self Defense\" is dedicated to Ahmaud Arbery, and alludes to his mother's grief over his death, which ironically occurred while he was peacefully jogging in a neighborhood in Georgia and was not practicing his \"right to the <em>Second Amendment</em>\" to bear arms. Other poems in this section use the vocabulary associated with police misconduct: chokehold, asphyxiated, \"<em>broken prison system</em>,\" lynched, police gun, \"protest-laced streets.\" The poet stresses the universality to abuse in \"Does Hurt Have a Gender?\" by ending that poem with these interrogatory lines: <strong>[End Page 107]</strong></p> <blockquote> <p><span>Do screams have a religion too? Do cries have a race?</span><span>Does hurt have a gender? Do wounds have a nationality?</span></p> <p><span>Does your tongue curl into sin when you call out my name?</span><span>Does the triteness of ideologies still mollify your pain?</span></p> </blockquote> <p>Some of the poems in this section of the book are prose poems, as if the extremity of the violence that is chronicled is too disturbing to be rendered in verse. Two such poems—\"The People We Love, the People We Care\" and \"A Revolution by Choice\"—emphasize the isolation of activism against abuse as well as the continuing struggle t","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"13 3","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-11-29","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"138512515","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-11-29DOI: 10.1353/abr.2023.a913427
Laura C. Stevenson
<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span> <p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>Bags and Tools: Poems</em> by Michael Fleming <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Laura C. Stevenson (bio) </li> </ul> <em><small>bags and tools: poems</small></em><br/> Michael Fleming<br/> Green Writers Press<br/> https://greenwriterspress.com/book/bags-and-tools/<br/> 76 pages; Print, $15.95 <p>From the quadrameter title poem with which it begins to the celebrational sonnet with which it concludes, Michael Fleming's <em>Bags and Tools</em>, the winner of the Sundog Poetry Book Award of 2021, is a debut collection in which every poem reveals penetrating vision, crafted with such care that its technique appears effortless.</p> <p>While the collection is filled with a variety of subjects, moods, and memories that reflect a long and thoughtful poetic history, Fleming has placed his most recent works in his first section, "Just a Word." As suggested by Frances Cannon's haunting sketch of a seventeenth-century plague doctor, most of the section's poems are concerned with the pandemic. Of these, the most impressive—both technically and philosophically—is "Corona," a sequence of seven interlocking sonnets. The sequence opens with an echo of the Book of Genesis but quickly shifts to the perceptions of a TV audience:</p> <blockquote> <p><span>In the beginning it was just a word—some</span><span>kind of bug, a blip in the news,</span><span>another ambient danger, like murder</span><span>and bad service and diaper rash—the dues</span><span>for being alive, one more thing to think</span><span>about.</span></p> </blockquote> <p>Soon, however, the word becomes a danger that can't be dismissed:</p> <blockquote> <p><span> It began to cover the sun</span><span>and we said this isn't happening, sinking</span><span>into the sea isn't happening, none</span><span>of this is real, unpredicted eclipses</span><span>cannot occur, we will not allow <strong>[End Page 120]</strong></span> <span>it. Then all at once night fell—time was stripped</span><span>of meaning, birds stopped singing in a cloudy,</span><span>starless sky. No hint of dawn. We must</span><span>have failed to see this coming, most of us.</span></p> </blockquote> <p>"Most of us" implies that a few people <em>did</em> see coming doom, but while that idea hovers in the air, the second sonnet merely portrays the sorrow of a society that now recognizes its former inattention:</p> <blockquote> <p><span>We failed to see it coming, most of us,</span><span>because we never thought about the plague</span><span>or pestilence—antique notions we must</span><span>have forgotten.</span></p> </blockquote> <p>After describing suddenly newfound fear, the iambics break into a nightmare disorientation that mixes past and present:</p> <blockquote> <p><span> Everything we thought we knew</span><span>was wrong, delusional, a dream of climbing</span><span>an endless staircase made
代替摘要，这里是内容的简短摘录:由:包和工具:诗歌迈克尔·弗莱明劳拉·c·史蒂文森(生物)包和工具:诗歌迈克尔·弗莱明绿色作家出版社https://greenwriterspress.com/book/bags-and-tools/ 76页;从开头的四格诗到结尾的庆祝十四行诗，迈克尔·弗莱明(Michael Fleming)的《包和工具》(Bags and Tools)是2021年Sundog诗歌图书奖(Sundog Poetry Book Award)的得主，这是一本处女作，每首诗都揭示了敏锐的洞察力，精心制作，技巧似乎毫不费力。虽然这个系列充满了各种各样的主题、情绪和回忆，反映了一段漫长而深思熟虑的诗歌历史，但弗莱明把他最近的作品放在了他的第一部分，“只是一个词”。正如弗朗西丝·坎农(Frances Cannon)对17世纪鼠疫医生令人难忘的素描所暗示的那样，该部分的大部分诗歌都与瘟疫有关。其中，最令人印象深刻的——无论是在技术上还是在哲学上——是《Corona》，由七首环环相扣的十四行诗组成。这个片段以《创世纪》的回声开场，但很快就转移到电视观众的看法上:一开始，它只是一个词——某种虫子，新闻中的一个小插曲，另一个周围的危险，比如谋杀、糟糕的服务和尿布疹——活着的代价，又多了一件需要考虑的事情。然而，很快，这个词变成了一种不可忽视的危险:它开始遮住太阳，我们说这不会发生，沉入大海不会发生，这一切都不是真的，无法预测的日食不会发生，我们不会允许它发生。突然间，夜幕降临，时间失去了意义，鸟儿在多云无星的天空中停止了歌唱。没有黎明的迹象。我们大多数人肯定没有预见到这一点。“我们大多数人”暗示着少数人确实看到了厄运的到来，但是当这种想法在空气中徘徊时，第二首十四行诗仅仅描绘了一个社会的悲伤，这个社会现在认识到它以前的疏忽:我们没有看到它的到来，我们大多数人，因为我们从来没有想过瘟疫或瘟疫——我们必须忘记的古老概念。在描述了突然发现的恐惧之后，他们陷入了一场混淆了过去和现在的噩梦般的迷茫:我们以为自己知道的一切都是错的，是幻觉，是一个爬上一段无尽的沙楼梯的梦，光线被黑暗和不信任感染，时间变得粘稠，像胶水一样。很快，就有了面具。它们出现在第四首十四行诗中，以优美的措辞回忆起“我们的脸/被揭开，毫无疑问”的日子。然而现在，我们的面具是我们为呼吸和冒险所付出的代价。我们错得太多了。我们一直戴着面具。接住主题，第五首十四行诗继续说道:我们一直都是戴着面具的，只有戴着面具才能知道这一点。现在我们看起来和以前一样——助产士和强盗，护理者和外科医生，偷偷摸摸的小偷，亡命之徒。谁不爱戏服呢——如果我们的灵魂是光秃秃的，我们都会羞愧而死的!随着“服装”的引入，“面具”变成了“假面”——在这场悲剧中，我们玩家计划“戴上爱、失去和犯罪/激情的面具”。但是我们试图表演熟悉的场景失败了。幕布升起，屋子里一片黑暗——突然一切都不对劲了。我们一丝不挂，我们的面具什么也遮掩不了。当我们喊“line!”时，得到的是沉默。我们错过了我们的标记，忘记了我们的角色，恳求上帝。在一片混乱中，导演咆哮道:“关于音乐，这一切都是错的，因为唱歌是被禁止的——一直都是。”就这样，我们被留在了一个禁止歌唱的冬天的寂静中:月份没有节奏，没有顺序地展开——一场寂静的狂热之梦，像一群鹿在篱笆上流动。天变冷了。我们不想这样。一开始我们都不敢相信，那时它还只是一个词。随着最后一首十四行诗的结尾与该序列的开场白相呼应，我们又回到了原点——“我们”就像一直以来一样，是……
{"title":"Bags and Tools: Poems by Michael Fleming (review)","authors":"Laura C. Stevenson","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913427","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913427","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>Bags and Tools: Poems</em> by Michael Fleming <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Laura C. Stevenson (bio) </li> </ul> <em><small>bags and tools: poems</small></em><br/> Michael Fleming<br/> Green Writers Press<br/> https://greenwriterspress.com/book/bags-and-tools/<br/> 76 pages; Print, $15.95 <p>From the quadrameter title poem with which it begins to the celebrational sonnet with which it concludes, Michael Fleming's <em>Bags and Tools</em>, the winner of the Sundog Poetry Book Award of 2021, is a debut collection in which every poem reveals penetrating vision, crafted with such care that its technique appears effortless.</p> <p>While the collection is filled with a variety of subjects, moods, and memories that reflect a long and thoughtful poetic history, Fleming has placed his most recent works in his first section, \"Just a Word.\" As suggested by Frances Cannon's haunting sketch of a seventeenth-century plague doctor, most of the section's poems are concerned with the pandemic. Of these, the most impressive—both technically and philosophically—is \"Corona,\" a sequence of seven interlocking sonnets. The sequence opens with an echo of the Book of Genesis but quickly shifts to the perceptions of a TV audience:</p> <blockquote> <p><span>In the beginning it was just a word—some</span><span>kind of bug, a blip in the news,</span><span>another ambient danger, like murder</span><span>and bad service and diaper rash—the dues</span><span>for being alive, one more thing to think</span><span>about.</span></p> </blockquote> <p>Soon, however, the word becomes a danger that can't be dismissed:</p> <blockquote> <p><span> It began to cover the sun</span><span>and we said this isn't happening, sinking</span><span>into the sea isn't happening, none</span><span>of this is real, unpredicted eclipses</span><span>cannot occur, we will not allow <strong>[End Page 120]</strong></span> <span>it. Then all at once night fell—time was stripped</span><span>of meaning, birds stopped singing in a cloudy,</span><span>starless sky. No hint of dawn. We must</span><span>have failed to see this coming, most of us.</span></p> </blockquote> <p>\"Most of us\" implies that a few people <em>did</em> see coming doom, but while that idea hovers in the air, the second sonnet merely portrays the sorrow of a society that now recognizes its former inattention:</p> <blockquote> <p><span>We failed to see it coming, most of us,</span><span>because we never thought about the plague</span><span>or pestilence—antique notions we must</span><span>have forgotten.</span></p> </blockquote> <p>After describing suddenly newfound fear, the iambics break into a nightmare disorientation that mixes past and present:</p> <blockquote> <p><span> Everything we thought we knew</span><span>was wrong, delusional, a dream of climbing</span><span>an endless staircase made ","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"11 12","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-11-29","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"138512523","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-11-29DOI: 10.1353/abr.2023.a913414
Shadi Bartsch
<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span> <p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> On Reading a Classic <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Shadi Bartsch (bio) </li> </ul> <p>We were in mid-conversation. "Oh!" said my student, her eyes widening. "Vergil calls him pious all the time, and Aeneas says it of himself, but the rest of the narrative just doesn't back that up. There's the sacrifice of Italians. And he dissimulates to Dido. And he never shook Latinus's right hand for the treaty. That's not pious, not even by Roman standards. But what is Vergil <em>doing</em> then? Aeneas is the hero of the poem!"</p> <p>"Good question," I said, nodding encouragingly.</p> <p>"And it's not just the word <em>pious</em> that's applied to him. He's virtuous and manly and in sync with the gods. But then the Italians claim he's a fop who curls his hair and wears a bonnet to war. Another contradiction," she adds. "Which side are we supposed to believe?"</p> <p>"What if we think about the gap itself, rather than taking sides?" I ask.</p> <p>She thinks. "Do Aeneas and Augustus share the same kind of gap? They're both described with fine words on the surface, like in the <em>Res Gestae</em>, that list of accomplishments Augustus put out, but in his history he used to be Octavian, who was pretty nasty and did bad things before he became the <em>princeps</em>. It's like the gap where on one side, the <em>Aeneid</em> is like official praise, on the other, we see unpious stuff that Aeneas does."</p> <p>"But at the same time, Vergil doesn't seem to condemn the praise, does he?" I ask. "Is that a simple political choice, or does it mean something more?"</p> <p>"I don't know," she says.</p> <p>"Something to think about!" say I.</p> <p>Our time was up, and off went my earnest reader of the poem.</p> <p>I have modeled this conversation because it shows so nicely both how students read and how they don't. My student had just engaged in interpretation level one—reading the text closely, coming up with frameworks for interpretation that were shaped by as much as she knew of the context. And there was another factor here: the sorts of questions I posed were coming from me, professor of Classics at the University of Chicago in the year 2022, the product of Western education abroad and in the US, a woman, of middle-class origin, left of center politically, animal lover and vegetarian, translator <strong>[End Page 56]</strong> of the <em>Aeneid</em>, who happened to participate in a student's political meaning-making out of the <em>Aeneid</em>, which just happened to go down this path among the many, many possible paths it could take. An awareness of this, of the contingency of one's interpretation, is what I call interpretation level two. Notice the apparent tension between the two levels: I am both aware that the discussion models a particular type of reception, <em>and</em> I believe in it, and my students end up (often) believing what I believ
{"title":"On Reading a Classic","authors":"Shadi Bartsch","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913414","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913414","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> On Reading a Classic <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Shadi Bartsch (bio) </li> </ul> <p>We were in mid-conversation. \"Oh!\" said my student, her eyes widening. \"Vergil calls him pious all the time, and Aeneas says it of himself, but the rest of the narrative just doesn't back that up. There's the sacrifice of Italians. And he dissimulates to Dido. And he never shook Latinus's right hand for the treaty. That's not pious, not even by Roman standards. But what is Vergil <em>doing</em> then? Aeneas is the hero of the poem!\"</p> <p>\"Good question,\" I said, nodding encouragingly.</p> <p>\"And it's not just the word <em>pious</em> that's applied to him. He's virtuous and manly and in sync with the gods. But then the Italians claim he's a fop who curls his hair and wears a bonnet to war. Another contradiction,\" she adds. \"Which side are we supposed to believe?\"</p> <p>\"What if we think about the gap itself, rather than taking sides?\" I ask.</p> <p>She thinks. \"Do Aeneas and Augustus share the same kind of gap? They're both described with fine words on the surface, like in the <em>Res Gestae</em>, that list of accomplishments Augustus put out, but in his history he used to be Octavian, who was pretty nasty and did bad things before he became the <em>princeps</em>. It's like the gap where on one side, the <em>Aeneid</em> is like official praise, on the other, we see unpious stuff that Aeneas does.\"</p> <p>\"But at the same time, Vergil doesn't seem to condemn the praise, does he?\" I ask. \"Is that a simple political choice, or does it mean something more?\"</p> <p>\"I don't know,\" she says.</p> <p>\"Something to think about!\" say I.</p> <p>Our time was up, and off went my earnest reader of the poem.</p> <p>I have modeled this conversation because it shows so nicely both how students read and how they don't. My student had just engaged in interpretation level one—reading the text closely, coming up with frameworks for interpretation that were shaped by as much as she knew of the context. And there was another factor here: the sorts of questions I posed were coming from me, professor of Classics at the University of Chicago in the year 2022, the product of Western education abroad and in the US, a woman, of middle-class origin, left of center politically, animal lover and vegetarian, translator <strong>[End Page 56]</strong> of the <em>Aeneid</em>, who happened to participate in a student's political meaning-making out of the <em>Aeneid</em>, which just happened to go down this path among the many, many possible paths it could take. An awareness of this, of the contingency of one's interpretation, is what I call interpretation level two. Notice the apparent tension between the two levels: I am both aware that the discussion models a particular type of reception, <em>and</em> I believe in it, and my students end up (often) believing what I believ","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"24 3","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-11-29","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"138526975","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-11-29DOI: 10.1353/abr.2023.a913429
Joy Gaines-Friedler
<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span> <p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>The Wicking of the Broken Heart</em> by Robin Eichele <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Joy Gaines-Friedler (bio) </li> </ul> <em><small>the wicking of the broken heart</small></em><br/> Robin Eichele<br/> Cyberwit.net<br/> https://www.cyberwit.net/publications/1836<br/> 130 pages; Print, $15.00 <p>Robin Eichele's poems ask these heady, existential questions: Who are we? Why are we here? How do we fit? What is real? What is the world trying to teach me? What am I to know beyond the knowing? That is exactly what a lyrical poem is—a moment that reveals a knowing beyond the moment. From, "Feeding the Pigeons":</p> <blockquote> <p><span>In the world of small who is the smaller?</span><span>The chill of the bench seeps the heat from my thighs.</span><span>The fog of the day usurps the green of leaves.</span><span>Here is the privacy for asking</span><span>what is the consequence of matter or time or space?</span><span>Grey heads bob in Washington Square</span><span>just as they bobbed in Leicester—a sea of them–</span><span>so many years ago—pecking at crumbs with</span><span>confident precision—in cracks, on sidewalks, on</span><span>concrete and stone—tapping survival signals</span><span> demanding that I play a role as unwavering</span><span> demanding that I pose with my random rhetoricals</span><span> demanding that I scratch for meaning.</span></p> </blockquote> <p>This "transcendentalist" seeking of the grandeur that connects us to all things through the intermediary of the self (with the guidance of the poet) permeates the work in this collection. Eichele acts as a spiritual guide. It is clear that he sees this guidance as a calling.</p> <p>In the mid-1960s a group of students at Monteith College, an experimental liberal arts college within Wayne State University, formed the Detroit Artists' Workshop. The group included Eichele, activist John Sinclair, photographer Leni Sinclair, and others. Theirs was a radical community of students and artists <strong>[End Page 129]</strong> who not only lived together but hosted concerts, poetry readings, classes and exhibitions. They formed a press. They founded a co-operative record label, they rallied against war, and on behalf of women, they were outspoken activists, humanists, organizers, and early founders of the anti-nuclear movement. They became known as subversive, and police assigned undercover agents to infiltrate the group.</p> <p>Nearly sixty years later this volume of selected poems embodies those origins, and ideologies. Eichele generously celebrates the poet-artists. All artists. The now "grey heads that bob" are indeed those radical, soul-seeking, cultural icons of that community of artists, poets, professors, and musicians in Detroit and elsewhere, those who have not and will not give up, as Eichele proclaims, "scratching for meaning." His tr
{"title":"The Wicking of the Broken Heart by Robin Eichele (review)","authors":"Joy Gaines-Friedler","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913429","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913429","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>The Wicking of the Broken Heart</em> by Robin Eichele <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Joy Gaines-Friedler (bio) </li> </ul> <em><small>the wicking of the broken heart</small></em><br/> Robin Eichele<br/> Cyberwit.net<br/> https://www.cyberwit.net/publications/1836<br/> 130 pages; Print, $15.00 <p>Robin Eichele's poems ask these heady, existential questions: Who are we? Why are we here? How do we fit? What is real? What is the world trying to teach me? What am I to know beyond the knowing? That is exactly what a lyrical poem is—a moment that reveals a knowing beyond the moment. From, \"Feeding the Pigeons\":</p> <blockquote> <p><span>In the world of small who is the smaller?</span><span>The chill of the bench seeps the heat from my thighs.</span><span>The fog of the day usurps the green of leaves.</span><span>Here is the privacy for asking</span><span>what is the consequence of matter or time or space?</span><span>Grey heads bob in Washington Square</span><span>just as they bobbed in Leicester—a sea of them–</span><span>so many years ago—pecking at crumbs with</span><span>confident precision—in cracks, on sidewalks, on</span><span>concrete and stone—tapping survival signals</span><span> demanding that I play a role as unwavering</span><span> demanding that I pose with my random rhetoricals</span><span> demanding that I scratch for meaning.</span></p> </blockquote> <p>This \"transcendentalist\" seeking of the grandeur that connects us to all things through the intermediary of the self (with the guidance of the poet) permeates the work in this collection. Eichele acts as a spiritual guide. It is clear that he sees this guidance as a calling.</p> <p>In the mid-1960s a group of students at Monteith College, an experimental liberal arts college within Wayne State University, formed the Detroit Artists' Workshop. The group included Eichele, activist John Sinclair, photographer Leni Sinclair, and others. Theirs was a radical community of students and artists <strong>[End Page 129]</strong> who not only lived together but hosted concerts, poetry readings, classes and exhibitions. They formed a press. They founded a co-operative record label, they rallied against war, and on behalf of women, they were outspoken activists, humanists, organizers, and early founders of the anti-nuclear movement. They became known as subversive, and police assigned undercover agents to infiltrate the group.</p> <p>Nearly sixty years later this volume of selected poems embodies those origins, and ideologies. Eichele generously celebrates the poet-artists. All artists. The now \"grey heads that bob\" are indeed those radical, soul-seeking, cultural icons of that community of artists, poets, professors, and musicians in Detroit and elsewhere, those who have not and will not give up, as Eichele proclaims, \"scratching for meaning.\" His tr","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"31 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-11-29","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"138542263","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-11-29DOI: 10.1353/abr.2023.a913423
Duane Niatum
<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span> <p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>The Many Names for Mother</em> by Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach, and: <em>Apricots of Donbas</em> by Lyuba Yakimchuk <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Duane Niatum (bio) </li> </ul> <em><small>the many names for mother</small></em><br/> Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach<br/> Kent State University Press<br/> https://www.kentstateuniversitypress.com/2019/the-many-names-for-mother/#:~:text=Julia%20Kolchinsky%20Dasbach&text=The%20Many%20Names%20for%20Mother%20is%20an%20exploration%20of%20intergenerational,they%20reflect%20on%20the%20past.<br/> 112 pages; Print, $17.00 <em><small>apricots of donbas</small></em><br/> Lyuba Yakimchuk<br/> Translated by Oksana Maksymchuk, Max Rosochinsky, and Svetlana Lavochkina<br/> Lost Horse Press<br/> https://losthorsepress.org/catalog/apricots-of-donbas/#:~:text=Apricots%20of%20Donbas%2C%20by%20award,in%20a%20dual%20language%20edition.<br/> 166 pages; Print, $24.00 <p>It is an honor and a pleasure to introduce to you two of the major contemporary Ukrainian poets. The current situation in Ukraine has brought me out of my book review retirement. Writing this review is the least I can do for fellow poets facing one of the worst crises in modern history, an unprovoked war that is a threat to their individual lives and an attempt to wipe out their culture and history.</p> <p>Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach, author of <em>The Many Names for Mother</em>, is a poet of origins, ancestry, memory, and language. These are the central motivators for the poems in her provocative and heart-wrenching lines revealed concisely with concrete detail. I am able to get closer to these poems and their personal <strong>[End Page 100]</strong> and historical revelations because of watching the news of the Russian invasion of Ukraine that is now more than a year old.</p> <p>And like other notable Ukrainian poets and novelists, she honors her family's history that she brings into the present moment. She does this, she says, because she cannot move forward without this important part of her memory, dreams, and potential future. And, of course, her life is brought into focus in the way her words explore the journey her life has taken. But most importantly, this life is anchored to the many names for mother, as the title of her collection points to.</p> <p>This is a passage from her poem "Inheritance":</p> <blockquote> <p><span>And in that distance, who can tell</span><span>igniting times apart? The difference</span><span>between the lived and the passed down:</span><span>the sundials shadow at noon?</span><span> I'm wishing</span><span>again today still last night—</span><span>in flux like sand and water and ancestry.</span></p> </blockquote> <p>We see how Kolchinsky Dasbach's story flows on like a river of memory and will never be lost or forgotten. She is a poet who leaves no stone unturned to face the reader. T
{"title":"The Many Names for Mother by Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach, and: Apricots of Donbas by Lyuba Yakimchuk (review)","authors":"Duane Niatum","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913423","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913423","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>The Many Names for Mother</em> by Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach, and: <em>Apricots of Donbas</em> by Lyuba Yakimchuk <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Duane Niatum (bio) </li> </ul> <em><small>the many names for mother</small></em><br/> Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach<br/> Kent State University Press<br/> https://www.kentstateuniversitypress.com/2019/the-many-names-for-mother/#:~:text=Julia%20Kolchinsky%20Dasbach&text=The%20Many%20Names%20for%20Mother%20is%20an%20exploration%20of%20intergenerational,they%20reflect%20on%20the%20past.<br/> 112 pages; Print, $17.00 <em><small>apricots of donbas</small></em><br/> Lyuba Yakimchuk<br/> Translated by Oksana Maksymchuk, Max Rosochinsky, and Svetlana Lavochkina<br/> Lost Horse Press<br/> https://losthorsepress.org/catalog/apricots-of-donbas/#:~:text=Apricots%20of%20Donbas%2C%20by%20award,in%20a%20dual%20language%20edition.<br/> 166 pages; Print, $24.00 <p>It is an honor and a pleasure to introduce to you two of the major contemporary Ukrainian poets. The current situation in Ukraine has brought me out of my book review retirement. Writing this review is the least I can do for fellow poets facing one of the worst crises in modern history, an unprovoked war that is a threat to their individual lives and an attempt to wipe out their culture and history.</p> <p>Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach, author of <em>The Many Names for Mother</em>, is a poet of origins, ancestry, memory, and language. These are the central motivators for the poems in her provocative and heart-wrenching lines revealed concisely with concrete detail. I am able to get closer to these poems and their personal <strong>[End Page 100]</strong> and historical revelations because of watching the news of the Russian invasion of Ukraine that is now more than a year old.</p> <p>And like other notable Ukrainian poets and novelists, she honors her family's history that she brings into the present moment. She does this, she says, because she cannot move forward without this important part of her memory, dreams, and potential future. And, of course, her life is brought into focus in the way her words explore the journey her life has taken. But most importantly, this life is anchored to the many names for mother, as the title of her collection points to.</p> <p>This is a passage from her poem \"Inheritance\":</p> <blockquote> <p><span>And in that distance, who can tell</span><span>igniting times apart? The difference</span><span>between the lived and the passed down:</span><span>the sundials shadow at noon?</span><span> I'm wishing</span><span>again today still last night—</span><span>in flux like sand and water and ancestry.</span></p> </blockquote> <p>We see how Kolchinsky Dasbach's story flows on like a river of memory and will never be lost or forgotten. She is a poet who leaves no stone unturned to face the reader. T","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"12 10","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-11-29","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"138512516","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-11-29DOI: 10.1353/abr.2023.a913415
Joseph Farrell
<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span> <p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> We Have Never Been Ancient <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Joseph Farrell (bio) </li> </ul> <p>One of William Faulkner's most famous epigrams tells us that "The past is never dead. It's not even past." But those who repeat or paraphrase Faulkner, and even Faulkner himself, are usually concerned with a past that is not very deep. It's really just a matter of a few generations. On the other hand, "that's ancient history," a tediously common phrase that refers to a deeper antiquity, is used to dismiss something as utterly unimportant and irrelevant. This attitude is in no way exclusive to the uneducated or the anti-intellectual. A shallow view of the past is officially embraced by the history department of my own university, which requires undergraduate majors to take as few as one course that includes some material earlier than the nineteenth century. Nor is it unusual in this. The entire structure of all academic institutions, not to mention many other pillars of our society, seems dedicated to the proposition that the deep past is not very important. To those who study a culture that thrived not two hundred but two thousand years ago and more, it isn't obvious that this is a good thing. That's why it might be surprising to realize that our own discipline is part of the problem.</p> <p>Classics as an academic discipline was shaped in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries by the same forces that reshaped entire universities, promoted the nation-state as the ideal political structure, and distinguished firmly between the categories of "ancient" and "modern." This distinction is fundamental to the way most people today view human history over the <em>longue durée</em>. So familiar is it that it seems almost natural. That is why it is so shocking to realize that it amounts to little more than a rhetorical gambit.</p> <p>The most daring use of this gambit was by Friedrich Schiller in an influential essay "On Naïve and Sentimental Poetry" (1795–96). Like many contemporaries, Schiller felt vividly aware that he was living in a brave new world, a "modern" one different from any that had existed before. His purpose in this essay was to articulate the aesthetic principles of that world, specifically with reference to its most characteristic form, the novel. But how to accomplish that? Even today the novel continues to resist efforts to define it in terms of <strong>[End Page 60]</strong> form, essence, or any other quality. Schiller faced the difficulty of defining it as a reflection of the rapidly developing, heterogeneous character of the contemporary world in which the genre was becoming so prominent. But how to define anything that is defined mainly by indeterminacy?</p> <p>Schiller's great stroke of genius was to define the novel, and modernity itself, not per se but <em>in contrast to</em> some putatively simpler conce
这里有一个简短的内容摘录，而不是摘要:我们从来没有远古约瑟夫·法雷尔(传记)威廉·福克纳最著名的警句之一告诉我们:“过去永远不会消失。”它甚至还没有过去。”但那些重复或改写福克纳的人，甚至是福克纳本人，通常关心的是一段不太深刻的过去。这只是几代人的问题。另一方面，“那是古老的历史”(that's ancient history)是一个乏味的常用短语，指的是更深层的古代，它被用来把一些完全不重要和无关紧要的事情排除掉。这种态度绝不是没有受过教育或反知识分子所独有的。我所在大学的历史系正式接受对过去的肤浅看法，它要求本科专业的学生少则只选一门课，其中包括一些19世纪以前的材料。这一点也不罕见。所有学术机构的整个结构，更不用说我们社会的许多其他支柱，似乎都致力于这样一个命题:深刻的过去并不十分重要。对于那些研究两千年前甚至更早的文化的人来说，这显然不是一件好事。这就是为什么当我们意识到我们自己的纪律是问题的一部分时，可能会感到惊讶。古典文学作为一门学术学科是在18世纪末和19世纪初由同样的力量塑造的，这些力量重塑了整个大学，促进了民族国家作为理想的政治结构，并坚定地区分了“古代”和“现代”的范畴。这种区别对于今天大多数人看待漫长的人类历史的方式至关重要。它是如此熟悉，似乎几乎是自然的。这就是为什么当我们意识到这只不过是一种修辞策略时，会感到如此震惊。弗里德里希·席勒(Friedrich Schiller)在一篇颇具影响力的文章《论Naïve和感伤诗歌》(1795-96)中最大胆地使用了这一策略。像许多同时代的人一样，席勒清楚地意识到他生活在一个美丽的新世界里，一个不同于以往存在的“现代”世界。他在这篇文章中的目的是阐明那个世界的美学原则，特别是关于它最具特色的形式——小说。但是如何做到这一点呢?即使在今天，小说仍然抵制用形式、本质或任何其他品质来定义它的努力。席勒很难将其定义为当代世界快速发展的异质特征的反映，在这个世界中，这种类型变得如此突出。但是如何定义那些主要由不确定性定义的东西呢?席勒的伟大天才之处在于他定义了小说和现代性本身，不是小说本身，而是与一些假定的更简单的概念性对立面形成对比。他在古代最具特色的文学体裁中发现了这一点，他说，那就是史诗。在这里，他做了两个关键的动作。首先，他将史诗和小说分别作为古代和现代世界的特征进行了比较。同时，他还对这两种流派及其所代表的世界进行了对比。根据席勒的说法，生活在古代就像生活在史诗中:这样的生活是简单、明显、礼仪和井然有序的。根据假设，生活在现代世界与这一切完全相反。通过这篇精彩的论辩，定义现代性和小说的需求立刻消失了。它们难以形容的复杂性和不确定性无需定义或描述。我们只要把古代和史诗这两个更简单、更容易理解的对立面加以比较，就可以看出这一点。今天很少有古典主义者会认为席勒关于古代和史诗的观点是恰当的。但席勒同时代的人，他们创立了古典学这门学科，持非常相似的观点。对于像威廉·冯·洪堡、弗里德里希·奥古斯特·沃尔夫和奥古斯特·Böckh这样的人来说，希腊和罗马的文明具有早期和当代文明所缺乏的统一性、连贯性和重要性。几代人之后，古典主义者将继续持有这样的观点。但是要接受这个观点……
{"title":"We Have Never Been Ancient","authors":"Joseph Farrell","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913415","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913415","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> We Have Never Been Ancient <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Joseph Farrell (bio) </li> </ul> <p>One of William Faulkner's most famous epigrams tells us that \"The past is never dead. It's not even past.\" But those who repeat or paraphrase Faulkner, and even Faulkner himself, are usually concerned with a past that is not very deep. It's really just a matter of a few generations. On the other hand, \"that's ancient history,\" a tediously common phrase that refers to a deeper antiquity, is used to dismiss something as utterly unimportant and irrelevant. This attitude is in no way exclusive to the uneducated or the anti-intellectual. A shallow view of the past is officially embraced by the history department of my own university, which requires undergraduate majors to take as few as one course that includes some material earlier than the nineteenth century. Nor is it unusual in this. The entire structure of all academic institutions, not to mention many other pillars of our society, seems dedicated to the proposition that the deep past is not very important. To those who study a culture that thrived not two hundred but two thousand years ago and more, it isn't obvious that this is a good thing. That's why it might be surprising to realize that our own discipline is part of the problem.</p> <p>Classics as an academic discipline was shaped in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries by the same forces that reshaped entire universities, promoted the nation-state as the ideal political structure, and distinguished firmly between the categories of \"ancient\" and \"modern.\" This distinction is fundamental to the way most people today view human history over the <em>longue durée</em>. So familiar is it that it seems almost natural. That is why it is so shocking to realize that it amounts to little more than a rhetorical gambit.</p> <p>The most daring use of this gambit was by Friedrich Schiller in an influential essay \"On Naïve and Sentimental Poetry\" (1795–96). Like many contemporaries, Schiller felt vividly aware that he was living in a brave new world, a \"modern\" one different from any that had existed before. His purpose in this essay was to articulate the aesthetic principles of that world, specifically with reference to its most characteristic form, the novel. But how to accomplish that? Even today the novel continues to resist efforts to define it in terms of <strong>[End Page 60]</strong> form, essence, or any other quality. Schiller faced the difficulty of defining it as a reflection of the rapidly developing, heterogeneous character of the contemporary world in which the genre was becoming so prominent. But how to define anything that is defined mainly by indeterminacy?</p> <p>Schiller's great stroke of genius was to define the novel, and modernity itself, not per se but <em>in contrast to</em> some putatively simpler conce","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"11 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-11-29","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"138526931","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-11-29DOI: 10.1353/abr.2023.a913408
Shane Butler
<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span> <p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> Death to Classics <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Shane Butler (bio) </li> </ul> <p>As the late August evening gave way to night, I was packing my bags to leave the next day for Rome, where, among other things, I would write the dissertation that I would defend upon my return to New York two and a half years later. The windows of my apartment were open, sending the nocturnal purr of the city in on late-summer breezes that invited sleep. In an effort to resist them, I turned on the television that I otherwise seldom used except for the evening news and planted my suitcase on a table in front of it. I do not remember what was on and doubtless didn't much care then. It was tuned to ABC, where it had been for the news a few hours before—I had a weakness for the bemused gravitas of anchor Peter Jennings—so I left it there. The clothes I packed were rather rudimentary, with the exception of an ill-fitting suit I had bought on what would turn out to be the mistaken report that such was required for dinner at the American Academy in Rome. Books, however, were what mostly went in, including the Latin dictionary that had followed me since my undergraduate days, inscribed with each new phone number, which, back then of course, used to change with every move.</p> <p>As I folded, shifted, and crammed, whatever was on the television was interrupted by a "special report," the regular term when the reporting of "breaking news" was still an extraordinary event. The face behind the desk was not that of Jennings, who no doubt was home in bed, but that of a reporter I had never seen before and who himself seemed nervously surprised to be there. Princess Diana, he announced, had been in a serious car crash in Paris and had been rushed from the scene to the hospital. ABC News would of course be back as further information became available, but for now we were being returned to our regularly scheduled programming. I remember laughing, not at the news, but at the reporter, whose few words were enough to capture what struck my sympathetic ears as a voice that could only come from another gay man. The network, I said to myself, would never have allowed him in front of a camera in prime time. Indeed, had the news been about anything other than a princess, they surely would have dragged Jennings, or at least one of his regular proxies, back to the studio. <strong>[End Page 29]</strong></p> <p>As for Diana—well, to call me an anti-royalist would be to exaggerate my level of interest in the matter. It is true that, in a curious prefiguration of the story I am recalling, my mother had roused me in the predawn hours sixteen years before in order to watch her wedding to Prince Charles live on television. I must have encouraged this plan, though I cannot remember why. Were we both trying to say something about me that I myself, on the eve of my twelfth birthda
{"title":"Death to Classics","authors":"Shane Butler","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913408","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913408","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> Death to Classics <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Shane Butler (bio) </li> </ul> <p>As the late August evening gave way to night, I was packing my bags to leave the next day for Rome, where, among other things, I would write the dissertation that I would defend upon my return to New York two and a half years later. The windows of my apartment were open, sending the nocturnal purr of the city in on late-summer breezes that invited sleep. In an effort to resist them, I turned on the television that I otherwise seldom used except for the evening news and planted my suitcase on a table in front of it. I do not remember what was on and doubtless didn't much care then. It was tuned to ABC, where it had been for the news a few hours before—I had a weakness for the bemused gravitas of anchor Peter Jennings—so I left it there. The clothes I packed were rather rudimentary, with the exception of an ill-fitting suit I had bought on what would turn out to be the mistaken report that such was required for dinner at the American Academy in Rome. Books, however, were what mostly went in, including the Latin dictionary that had followed me since my undergraduate days, inscribed with each new phone number, which, back then of course, used to change with every move.</p> <p>As I folded, shifted, and crammed, whatever was on the television was interrupted by a \"special report,\" the regular term when the reporting of \"breaking news\" was still an extraordinary event. The face behind the desk was not that of Jennings, who no doubt was home in bed, but that of a reporter I had never seen before and who himself seemed nervously surprised to be there. Princess Diana, he announced, had been in a serious car crash in Paris and had been rushed from the scene to the hospital. ABC News would of course be back as further information became available, but for now we were being returned to our regularly scheduled programming. I remember laughing, not at the news, but at the reporter, whose few words were enough to capture what struck my sympathetic ears as a voice that could only come from another gay man. The network, I said to myself, would never have allowed him in front of a camera in prime time. Indeed, had the news been about anything other than a princess, they surely would have dragged Jennings, or at least one of his regular proxies, back to the studio. <strong>[End Page 29]</strong></p> <p>As for Diana—well, to call me an anti-royalist would be to exaggerate my level of interest in the matter. It is true that, in a curious prefiguration of the story I am recalling, my mother had roused me in the predawn hours sixteen years before in order to watch her wedding to Prince Charles live on television. I must have encouraged this plan, though I cannot remember why. Were we both trying to say something about me that I myself, on the eve of my twelfth birthda","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"42 3","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-11-29","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"138526996","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-11-29DOI: 10.1353/abr.2023.a913433
Jan Garden Castro
<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span> <p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>Winslow Homer: Crosscurrents</em> by Stephanie L. Herdrich and Sylvia Yount <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Jan Garden Castro (bio) </li> </ul> <em><small>winslow homer: crosscurrents</small></em><br/> Stephanie L. Herdrich and Sylvia Yount<br/> The Metropolitan Museum of Art (Distributed by Yale University Press)<br/> https://yalebooks.yale.edu/book/9781588397478/winslow-homer/<br/> 200 pages; Cloth, $50.00 <p><em>Winslow Homer: Crosscurrents</em>, the catalog for the exhibition traveling to the National Gallery, London (10 September 2022–8 January 2023), underscores the show's point: Homer applied his powerful painting prowess and narrative talent to capture both ocean and societal crosscurrents. Sylvia Yount terms this his "lifelong concerns with race and the environment." Yount is the Lawrence A. Fleischman Curator in Charge of the American Wing of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Her colleague Stephanie L. Herdrich, Associate Curator of American Painting and Sculpture in the American Wing, closes the volume by discussing how the artist framed race, class, and gender disparities as he painted nature's magnificence and its destructive force. <em>The Gulf Stream</em>, an 1899 painting reworked by 1906, is the show's centerpiece, displaying a lone Black man adrift at sea in a boat with a broken mast, surrounded by sharks. Homer used the sea literally and metaphorically in an age following the Civil War and Reconstruction, when Jim Crow laws and racist violence marginalized and endangered the Black populace.</p> <p>Herdrich's essay, "Crosscurrents: Conflict, Nature, and Mortality in Winslow Homer's Art," dives into the vortex of this exhibition and painting as she quotes curator H. Barbara Weinberg's comment that <em>The Gulf Stream</em> and other paintings "seem to ask as many questions as they answer." The same could be said about this exhibition and catalog. Experts mention Homer's one month of classes in the Barbizon style in New York and mostly speculate about the rest of his art education. Even though Homer's father and brother <strong>[End Page 149]</strong> are mentioned and seem central to his life, readers learn almost nothing about Homer's family or friends. We are sent to footnoted sources if we're curious about whether he had any romantic relationships. Similarly, we are told that the water currents of the Atlantic are central to Homer's body of work but given only general information that Homer's knowledge of this body of water came from oceanographer Matthew Fontaine Maury and was filtered through a religious source, George Chaplin Child, who believed in divine providence. Ocean patterns are discussed only as they were historically understood in 1857. Herdrich's best discussion of currents is in her consideration of <em>The Herring Net</em> (1885), where she points out "the inherent
代替摘要，这里是内容的简短摘录:回顾:温斯洛·荷马:逆流斯蒂芬妮·l·赫里奇和西尔维亚·扬Jan花园卡斯特罗(传记)温斯洛·荷马:逆流斯蒂芬妮·l·赫里奇和西尔维亚·扬大都会艺术博物馆(耶鲁大学出版社发行)https://yalebooks.yale.edu/book/9781588397478/winslow-homer/ 200页;《温斯洛·荷马:逆流》是伦敦国家美术馆(2022年9月10日至2023年1月8日)展览的目录，它强调了这次展览的观点:荷马运用他强大的绘画能力和叙事才能，捕捉了海洋和社会的逆流。西尔维娅·扬特称这是他“毕生关注的种族和环境问题”。扬是劳伦斯·a·弗莱希曼策展人，负责大都会艺术博物馆美国馆。她的同事斯蒂芬妮·l·赫里奇(Stephanie L. Herdrich)是美国馆美国绘画和雕塑的副策展人，她通过讨论这位艺术家在描绘大自然的壮丽和破坏力时如何框定种族、阶级和性别差异，结束了这一卷。1899年的《湾流》(The Gulf Stream)是这次展览的核心作品，这幅画经过1906年的改造，描绘了一个孤独的黑人在海上漂流，船上的桅杆断了，周围都是鲨鱼。在南北战争和重建之后的一个时代，当吉姆·克劳法和种族主义暴力边缘化和威胁黑人民众时，荷马从字面上和隐喻上使用了大海。赫里奇的文章《逆流:温斯洛·荷马艺术中的冲突、自然和死亡》深入探讨了这次展览和绘画的漩涡，她引用了策展人h·芭芭拉·温伯格(H. Barbara Weinberg)的评论，即《墨西哥湾流》和其他画作“似乎提出的问题和它们回答的问题一样多”。这次展览和目录也是如此。专家们提到荷马在纽约参加了一个月的巴比松风格课程，并大多猜测他的其他艺术教育。尽管书中提到了荷马的父亲和兄弟，而且似乎对荷马的生活至关重要，但读者对荷马的家人和朋友几乎一无所知。如果我们对他是否有过恋爱关系感到好奇，我们会被送到脚注来源。同样，我们被告知，大西洋的水流是荷马作品的核心，但只给了一般的信息，荷马关于这片水域的知识来自海洋学家马修·方丹·莫里，并通过宗教来源乔治·卓别林·查尔德过滤，他相信神的天意。我们只讨论1857年历史上对海洋模式的理解。赫里奇对海流的最佳讨论是在她对《鲱鱼网》(1885)的考虑中，她指出“在纽芬兰东南部富饶的大浅滩捕鱼的固有危险，这里是寒冷的拉布拉多洋流与相对温暖的墨西哥湾流相遇的地方。”作者并没有更新莫里关于洋流如何运作的观点。读者可以利用自己的资源，将气候变化纳入荷马对陆地和海洋的描绘，并像荷马一样思考人类如何与自然进行各种互动，以及种族、阶级、性别和南北文化差异如何也是一种交叉潮流。赫里奇深入研究了荷马是如何花了数年时间才完成《墨西哥湾流》的。利用他在1885年画的鲨鱼和一艘船的灾难的元素，他添加了更多威胁性的鲨鱼。在最后的构图中，速写中的甘蔗更处于中心位置，鲨鱼数量更多，更具威胁性，而没有像1885年的水彩画那样，鲨鱼围绕着一艘正在倾覆的、现已空无一人的船。在早期的艺术中，没有讨论过使用威胁性的、张着嘴的鲨鱼作为一种象征。根据专门研究17和18世纪肖像学的退休教授阿德尔海德·m·格尔特的说法，j·s·科普利1778年的一幅画中有一只张开嘴巴的鲨鱼，暗示了鲁本斯1618年的《约拿和鲸鱼》。在荷马的画中，希望的迹象是遥远的地平线上可能有一艘救援船，世界与家庭和美国联系在一起——这艘船名叫安娜，它的起源港是基韦斯特。1899年，荷马向一位朋友透露，他认为《湾流》中的人物“与画面价值大致相同”，就像特纳的……
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