This volume presents a historical-textual study about transformations of the aesthetics of the sublime—the literary and aesthetic quality of greatness under duress—from early English Romanticism to the New Poetry Movement in twentieth-century China. Zheng sets up the former and the latter as distinct but historically analogous moments and argues that both the European Romantic reinvention of the sublime and its later Chinese transformation represent cultural movements built on the excessive and capacious nature of the sublime to counter their shared sense of historical crisis. The author further postulates through a critical analysis of Edmund Burke’s Inquiry into the Origins of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful, William Wordsworth’s Prelude, and Guo Moruo’s experimental poem “Fenghuang Niepan” (“Nirvana of the Phoenix”) and verse drama Qu Yuan that these aesthetic practices of modernity suggest a deliberate historical hyperbolization of literary agency. Such an agency is in turn constructed imaginatively and affectively as a means to redress different cultures’ traumatic encounter with modernity. The volume will be of interest to scholars including graduate students of Romanticism, philosophy, history, English literature, Chinese literature, comparative literature, and (comparative) cultural studies.
Alcatraz, the first winner of the Verna Emery Poetry Competition, was selected as the best of 500 manuscripts submitted to the Purdue University Press in 1991. The collection begins with "Bay Cruise," a reminiscence of the author's boat tour of San Francisco Bay on the eve of his induction physical in 1966, and ends with "Memorial," an account of the author's visit, in 1989, during free time on a job interview at the Kent State Campus, of the monument to the MD students
Neil Myers' poetry reflects his interest in the moods of local landscapes and in the language of ordinary experience. For this collection he has chosen forty lyric poems which deal with basic themes: the world around him, his family, children, parents, the past, and the seasons' cycle. The poet writes of his work: "I'm not concerned with labels. I admire poems that show energy and clarity, that deal with inward value held up against the weather, that are part of a constant process of making up one's mind about the world."
Set in a variety of landscapes, this collection of poems blends diverse cultural experiences through the poet's unifying eye: the watchful, patient eye of the crow. The poet's sympathetic vision shows his love for the physical world through which he moves and for the humanity he encounters.
Modern poetry on ruins performs an awakening call to the lurking real, to the violence of history in the making. The attacks in New York on September 11, 2001, and in Madrid on March 11, 2004, provoked diverse political reactions, but the imminence of the ruins triggered a collective historical awakening. The awakening can take the shape of bombs in Kabul and Baghdad, or political change in government policies, but it is also palpable when poetry voices a critique of the technological warfare and its versions of progress. Contemporary events and the modern ruins are reminiscent of the political impact that the Spanish Civil War and the two World Wars had on poetry. In Cities in Ruins: The Politics of Modern Poetics, Cecilia Enjuto Rangel argues that the portrayal in poetry of the modern city as a disintegrated, ruined space is part of a critique of the visions of progress and the historical process of modernization that developed during the nineteenth century and the first half of the twentieth century. Enjuto Rangel analyzes how Charles Baudelaire, Luis Cernuda, T. S. Eliot, Octavio Paz, and Pablo Neruda poeticized ruins as the cornerstones of cultural and political memory, and used the imagery of ruins to reinterpret their historical and literary traditions.
How can there be a book that maps these continents of clouds that drift apart, reshape their puzzle pieces, and coalesce into new geographies of air within one windblown hour?" Donald Platt delights in enticing his readers with unique thoughts and questions such as this in Cloud Atlas. Being his second published book of poetry, the collection comes alive with elegance and refinement. Poems from this collection originally appeared in publications including The New England Review, The Best American Poetry 2000, Paris Review, New Republic, and The Kenyon Review. "In [these] poems. . . daring and discipline meet in an encounter which is rare enough in contemporary poetry. Flowers, anger, memory and a meeting in traffic-all wayward fragments of life-are given coherence and power in these achieved poems. These are lyrics which pay a real attention to the experiences they come out of." -Eavan Boland
By drawing our attention to what we may, at first, be tempted to overlook, the author surprises us by relating it to something else which is not obviously related, but which, by virtue of her keen perceptions, shows itself to be attached, sometimes emotionally, sometimes morally, often mysteriously. Christianne Balk writes about land, landscape, wind, rock, bird, plant and animal, river and ocean as if to record as well as to protect. At the center of her work is a profound reverence for the scaffolding of the earth itself, a willingness to embrace the continual cycles of disintegration and growth we are all part of.
In her second collection of poems, Fleda Brown Jackson holds with a meditative rapture to the place she call home-home as family, the source of trouble and joy; home as the embellished stories of family; and home as a place called Central Lake. And when the poems move outward-to Stonehenge, Edinburgh, Kitty-Hawk, Roanoke, St. Pete Beach, and the Mississippi River-the past keeps resonating. At last, the voice that remembers becomes "nothing but a riding, a hunger." "If I were a swan," she imagines, "The world would move / under me / and I would always be exactly / where I am."
Brouwer's work does the opposite of what I expect from an academic press. t sparkles, hypnotizes, connects, and squeezes juice out of the poet's life and into your funny bone." - Kevin Sampsell "In an economy bouyed on the stock margins of companies...poet Joel Brouwer's new book captures the spirit of this gilded age. There's a magic here, the kind that hard work reveals." -- Kevin Ducey "There are no trick mirrors here. No hocus pocus. Brouwer's poems are beautifully exact. They are verbal sleights of hand that cause the mind to blink." -- S. K. Carew
The poet explains the origin of the poetry books unusual title: "A sure way to catch catfish and other bottom-feeders is to squeeze a ball of partially dried cow's blood around a hook. The blood dissolves slowly, spreading its tendrils of odor into the surrounding water. It's like the tight wad of blood relations out of which I keep flinging myself and my words, both to lure whatever is out there and to assure myself of how tightly I'm hooked to the center
There is continuity in art just as there is in family life. Geraldine Connolly has written a marvelous celebration of both."
"Like the Mozart of his imagination, Donald Platt finds the notes that love one another and (like his Mozart), puts them together...He has a delicate ear, Platt, and a generous mind that lets the world come in. His range is connected to this generosity, as it is connected to his unrelenting memory and his intense pity and his unforgetting eye. He is a fine poet."
Sensual, intelligent, and possessed of a quiet Puritan genius, these poems are a mysterious celebration of a characteristic life
The twelve poems in the title piece express a respect for traditions. Another four poems conjure up images of a brother killed in war. And six poems paint icons, some from real objects and others from moments in the mind. Several poems create experiences in very small places, such as Winnemucca, Nevada, and Horsefly, British Columbia. This poet sees poems in subjects others might easily miss.
E.M. Schorb's book of pathologies and cures, Murderer's Day, reflects life on the mosquito coasts, the plains and foothills of Parnassus. There is less magic down here than there is up there, and the poet seems certain, as all poets must be, for wonder is their way, that there is even more magic beyond. Schorb hopes that his little missal/missile shines with truth and reflects his faith that, although it is dark down here, we are all going into a world of light
No Moon is a book of poems about the powers and misadventures of memory, about chancy intimacies and unquiet departures parceled out as time, loss, death-an almanac of forces that mystify and transform our everyday lives
Poets, deeply imbued in the language and conditions of their society, stand forth to produce an utterance that reveals their constant "exposure" and their resourceful adaptiveness. Albert Cook's wide-ranging study characterizes poetry by testing its reach beyond given points or boundaries of expression. Through an insightful analysis of key poets in various Western traditions, Cook demonstrates that the best poetry rises above these conditions by playing them back against themselves with a freedom whose ineffability is the sign of its ultimate lucidity. Beginning with modern poetry, Cook moves backward in time, aiming at the effect of echoes as much as of cumulations. In each movement forward, the intensities are gathered-by Dante, the troubadours, Catullus, or Alcman. This reach forward is also a reach backward: Alcman's fusions in the seventh century B.C.E. remain permanent within the Western tradition and are accessible in the stream of discourse to modern poets who may never have heard of him. In addition to addressing poems in the short compass of epigram, and ballad, The Reach of Poetry discusses the distinctive achievement of certain lyric poets-among them Wordsworth, Rimbaud, Whitman, Donne, the Shakespeare of the Sonnets, Dante, the troubadours, Catullus, Lucretius, Pindar, and such modern poets as Yeats, Stevens, Rilke, Montale, Follain, Lorca, Char, Celan, and Ashbery.
Red Lights by Mokichi Saito (1882-1953), who was a major Japanese tankaist, continued the trend in bringing new life to tanka. Sbakko, translated as Red Lights, appeared in 1913. This collection of tanka created an immediate sensation in Japan as it introduced into this venerable art form the modern note of a rich variety of subject matter, including sordid sexuality and chaste love, psychiatric scrutiny, and the complicated mental processes of a mind reaching into those layers of nature and human nature that hardly seemed possible in thirty-one syllables.
The people and creatures in "The Ones Consumed" become absorbed-figuratively or literally-by the world around them. Though the absorption often destroys them, the section opens and closes with poems which reveal the can be compensation and justice in the process. "Separate States" deals with the experiences of those who find themselves cut off from the lives most familiar to them. This separation results in their gaining knowledge stronger and deeper than the kind offered by the surfaces of the commonplace. Isolation has more severe physical and emotional consequences for the people of the poems in "Scars of What Touches." Even when someone chooses isolation, as in the final poem of the section, the presence of the outside world forces itself past the barriers erected against its intrusion. The last section, "Shaped by Shells and journeys," is peopled by those who find reason for hope, even though the innocence of an earlier age has vanished for them. They accept the limitation that the only part of their world they can truly change is themselves, and this releases them from the isolation which wounds or destroys so many in the earlier sections. It is thus at the final poem transforms a scene of unthinking devastation into one where the poet alters the way he will five from that time on.
Eliot is a disconcerting writer. Though trained in philosophy, he spoke repeatedly of his incapacity for abstruse reasoning, as well as noting such other shortcomings as his incompetence and lack of interest in aesthetics. When in 1964 he published Knowledge and Experience in the Philosophy of F. H. Bradley, he professed not to understand it and presented it only as a curiosity of biographical interest which shows how his own prose style was formed on that of Bradley. These curios statements have served to reinforce the common assumption that Eliot left his philosophy in his dissertation or that, in any event, with the supervention of religion he went blind in his philosophic eye. The consequence has been, as The Critic as Philosopher shows, that Eliot and his commentators have been talking at cross-purposes. Moreover, commentators who ignore or discount Eliot's Bradleyan philosophy cannot as a rule find a meaning for the language of the critical prose - either Eliot does not mean what he says of what he says does not mean anything. Lewis Freed's study reveals, on the positive side, that the critical prose - reviews, prefaces, essays, lectures - is informed by a definite theory of philosophy, and it is the same theory or philosophy in the later as in the earlier prose. Eliot chose to preserve his philosophy in cryptogram, and The Critic as Philosopher explains how he uses his philosophy without exposing it. In this sense, the present work is a study of Eliot's habits of prose composition - his "style."
In poems that are at once colloquial and elegant, Perillo strives to bridge the gap between the exuberant voice of the streets and the rarefied voice of literary tradition. Using the long lines and narrative style that have been identified with some of the finest male poets of our times, Perillo tells the stories of female experience with a grim eye for the comic and an ear turned to language's highest pitch.