Anne Raeff on Toni Morrison’s Beloved

Anne Raeff on Toni Morrison’s Beloved

(Guest post by Anne Raeff)

Two years ago, tired of being in a perpetual state of anger about the state of the world and the United States especially, my wife, Lori, and I decided that we needed a different approach to life. We needed to do something we had never done before, something that would give us purpose and from which we could learn in a new, not an intellectual, way. Over the years of our relationship—we have been together for 28 years—we sometimes talked about adopting a child or fostering, but we enjoyed the freedom and focus on our work and writing that childlessness provided, so the conversations never were very serious. But this time, when my wife, Lori, mentioned fostering, we kept on talking about it, imagining what it would be like.

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Angela Pneuman on Samantha Harvey's Dear Thief

Angela Pneuman on Samantha Harvey's Dear Thief

(Guest post by Angela Pneuman)

Samantha Harvey’s Dear Thief is a single, book-length letter addressed to the narrator’s oldest friend from childhood, the rarely named Nina—a heroin addict who had an affair with the narrator’s husband. It’s been nearly a decade since the two women, now in their fifties, have seen each other, and the letter is written on the occasion of the narrator’s husband, Nicolas, asking to return to a shared life with the narrator. As she writes, the narrator considers the offer, discusses it in this long, one-way conversation. There’s nothing in the book outside of the direct address—even the narrator’s life, as she moves in and out of the days it takes her to write the letter, is carefully transcribed. But even though it’s quite literally a one-way conversation, what makes this book so lovely and even dynamic is how the letter writer moves so easily among her current life, remembered events—often revisited and adjusted as memories are—and moments of bold imagination. The imagined moments are what stand out to me—I’m so interested in the technique, which seems especially helpful within the restrictive first-person point of view, and the added restriction of the epistolary form.

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Annie Kim on Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre: The Possibility of a Walk

Annie Kim on Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre: The Possibility of a Walk

(Guest post by Annie Kim)

It’s a shameful thing for a poet to admit: I hate walking. I am what you’d call a bad walker.

Sure, Wordsworth lay blissfully on his back in an empty field, staring at clouds. Wallace Stevens composed whole poems in his head as he strolled to his job each morning at the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company. I, though, have never been moved by a walk to do anything other than walk faster. Why walk when you can run? Drive?

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Devi S. Laskar on Natalie Diaz's When My Brother Was an Aztec

Devi S. Laskar on Natalie Diaz's When My Brother Was an Aztec

(Guest post by Devi S. Laskar)

One of my favorite Natalie Diaz poems is her pantoum “My Brother at 3 a.m.,” in her first book, When My Brother Was An Aztec.

I am first a poet and I had the pleasure of being Natalie’s student for one day several years ago, in a workshop in Santa Cruz. She is a terrific teacher and she talked about perspective and writing practice and continuity. Pantoum is a favorite poetry form of mine, I love the way the lines are braided through the stanzas and how you as a writer have a chance to perform a bit of magic and change meaning or perspective. In Natalie’s poetry, I admire how she tackles difficult subjects. In the case of this pantoum, it’s drug addiction. The language is vivid and precise and she gets the pantoum to bend a little at the end so that we readers end up with two POVs and it’s pure poetic magic.

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