tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45076568660077884722024-03-27T02:37:56.668-04:00The Rainbow ReaderSalem Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03272199999239458371noreply@blogger.comBlogger11313tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507656866007788472.post-65864658984992585182014-09-02T15:03:00.000-04:002014-11-06T14:17:49.888-05:00What I Did On My Summer Vacation by Salem West<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmTGU2hwmByXacXgAlHlFT6oGza0JWcrxc7Pkk0Aore-2P0MTAJSCM74Z70qJo7nPsOO77bmmReddJij0fDBpWAU9QoANGuOM6ZFqQjG2oltew43lNyedMvHonTtqi7TAz2S01CocDNM/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmTGU2hwmByXacXgAlHlFT6oGza0JWcrxc7Pkk0Aore-2P0MTAJSCM74Z70qJo7nPsOO77bmmReddJij0fDBpWAU9QoANGuOM6ZFqQjG2oltew43lNyedMvHonTtqi7TAz2S01CocDNM/s1600/4.jpg" height="168" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Remember when you were young, and every fall,
when you returned to school, one of your very first assignments was to write an
essay on what you did over your summer vacation? </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As September approaches,
you’ll notice that I have posted very few reviews on <i>The Rainbow Reader</i> over the last few months. The reason is simple,
I took a short sabbatical from reading and reviewing lesbian literature to
indulge in another passion of mine—that would be seeking out and reading books
that feature strong narrative voices. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It was a nice counter-balance to the voices in my head…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A handful of the books I chose were rereads
from my youth, and others were brand, spanking new to me. Some, but not all,
fell under the somewhat ubiquitous umbrella of “southern literature,” which is
a strange and wonderful cocktail of themes and metaphors built around concepts
such as history, family, community, justice, religion, social class, and racial
tension.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">You know, the things peoples all over the world are STILL fighting
wars over…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The rest of the books covered the spectrum from odd and uplifting to the seriously whackadoodle.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In almost all cases, the narrators were
children or adults revisiting significant periods of their youth. Some were
male and some were female. Some were gay and some were straight. Some had
enviable childhoods, and others had their childhoods wrenched from them. A few
of the narrators had distinct dialects and a few more spoke in the vernacular.
All of them were Caucasian—I mention this last point simply because it just
occurred to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The books I read covered a range of topics,
and were written in myriad styles. But, the one thing they all had in common
was that they were well written. The kind of well written that makes you stop
when you to get to a particular passage and reread it—multiple times. The kind of
well written that makes you fall in love all over again with words, syntax, semantics,
and pesky pragmatics. They were the kind of well written that reminds once and for all why written words are powerful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The bottom line is that I had a fantabulous time on my little journey,
and my literary tank is pleasantly full to overflowing. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But, before I get back on that big horse that
is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Rainbow Reader</i>, I’ll share
with you some of the highlights of my summer vacation. And, if you get a
chance, drop a comment on this post to let me know what you read over your
summer vacation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The book I consider perhaps the most perfect
story ever told. This Pulitzer prize-winning novel explores honor, justice, and
coming-of-age in the days of virulent prejudice in America’s deep south. Narrated
by the irrepressible Scout Finch, this novel is full of heart, humor, and history.
If you’ve only seen the movie, I strongly recommend reading this book not only
because there are significant variations between the two stories, but also because
the storytelling is flawless. Ironically, not long after finishing this book
for the umpteenth time, the race riots in Ferguson, Missouri took center stage
in our collective consciousness—it was a big ol’ reminder that as much as
things change, they surely do stay the same. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Best line: Scout Finch telling her Uncle Jack, <b>“Pass the damn ham,
please.” </b><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Putlizer prize-winning Author Elizabeth
Strout explores desire, despair, jealousy, hope, life, death, and love through
thirteen</span> interrelated but discontinuous narratives that are focused around the terse and brazen Olive Kitteridge,
a formidable seventh-grade math teacher in Crosby, Maine. Olive was a character
who wasn’t always easy to like, but she was always as honest with herself and
others as she could be. It is apt to say that the reader develops a begrudging
respect and admiration for her. And, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that I developed
a deep and unexpected affection for Olive’s long-suffering and effervescently
tragic husband, Henry. Great storytelling.</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Best line: Olive sums up her philosophy of life when she declares <b>“Hell.
We’re always alone. Born alone. Die alone.”</b><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihp25eaujcAXfdh4QyC9zqS8xOXmD53lX9uHiiYucLAJFYKb_wFIhrnIAaNN5Bih6r3iUWNi57FdVsB1vTnxHY6jhp_e-WZeyJHvt3dI3rGenNKSnaJ39hqgCxMqzh7WKjsQtmKKNrQzM/s1600/1402550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihp25eaujcAXfdh4QyC9zqS8xOXmD53lX9uHiiYucLAJFYKb_wFIhrnIAaNN5Bih6r3iUWNi57FdVsB1vTnxHY6jhp_e-WZeyJHvt3dI3rGenNKSnaJ39hqgCxMqzh7WKjsQtmKKNrQzM/s1600/1402550.jpg" height="200" width="131" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps one of the best book titles, ever—and
arguably as good as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">To Kill A Mockingbird</i>.
Set in Georgia, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cold Sassy Tree</i> is
about a post-Civil War family that is undergoing a rapid transformation. Told
from fourteen-year-old Will Tweedy’s point of view, the story follows a family
and a small town's reactions to the death of a beloved grandmother, and the
quick remarriage of the widowed grandfather to the town’s presumed Jezebel, Ms.
Love Simpson. Major themes include life and death, love and tolerance, and
freedom and independence. This is one of those books where every sentence is
better than the one before. As an aside, if you can find it, check out the
made-for-TV movie staring Faye Dunaway as Ms. Love, and Neil Patrick Harris as
Will Tweedy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Best line: Grandpa Blakeslee says to young Will Tweedy while they
look into Granny’s newly dug grave. <b>“Livin’ is like pourin’ water out of a
tumbler into a dang Coca-Cola bottle. If’n you skeered you cain’t do it.”</b><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Driving With Dead People: A Memoir by Monica Holloway<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Monica Holloway’s memoir is chockfull of the
deep, dark, insightful, compelling, and oddly humorous. Death is a theme for
young Monica, from the untimely death of a young girl who looks like her,
through her father’s grisly fascination with filming demise and destruction, to
her best friend's family running the town mortuary. This memoir chronicles
Monica’s chronic bed-wetting and compulsive lying, bitter anger and abuse at
the hands of her father, the physical and emotional abandonment of her mother,
and the ultimate revelation of incest. If a book can be laugh-out-loud funny,
depressing, triumphant, and heartbreaking all at the same time, this is the one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Best Line: <b>“I'd been right, even when I was in fourth grade and
saw Sarah Keeler lying in her coffin: When you're dead, no one can hurt you.”</b>
Monica, watching as her best friend’s younger sister prepares a corpse for
burial. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Running With Scissors by Augusten Burrows<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Where do you even begin to summarize <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Running with Scissors?</i> For starters, it is
the deeply disturbing and true-life story (even though there is some argument) of a young boy who took survival to a whole new level. As a youngster, Augusten
Burrows was smart, neat, and oddly grown-up. However, when his Anne Sexton
wannabe mother with supposed psychotic delusions divorced her alcoholic husband, everything
began to spiral out of control. Augusten was given to her oddball psychiatrist
(who looks like Santa Claus) and his extended family. His once neat and orderly
world is turned upside down. The family lives in what can only be described as
modern Victorian squalor, and near-farcical events begin to shape Augusten’s
new world order. Too numerous to mention, these events include one of the
doctor’s daughters believing her dead cat is reanimated, Augusten and another
daughter playing with an old electro-shock therapy machine, and the doctor openly
masturbating to photos of Golda Meir. Things take a turn for the worse when a
thirteen-year-old Augusten enters into a widely acknowledged relationship with
the psychiatrist’s 33-year old adopted son. At times humorous and others
harrowing, this memoir walks the fine line between nightmare, depravity, and grand
entertainment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Best line: Augusten coming to terms with his mother’s
idiosyncrasies, <b>“My mother began to go crazy. Not in a 'Let's paint the kitchen
red!' sort of way. But crazy in a 'gas oven, toothpaste sandwich, I am God'
sort of way.” </b><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A Handbook For Visitors From Outer Space by Katherine Kramer<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What can only be described as a Pynchonian
novel, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Handbook for Visitors From Outer
Space</i> takes place in the late 1970s or early 1980s, and is most easily
boiled down into the story of family relations, incest, and a royal family in
exile. Grandparents, parents and children all form a complex pattern of
emotional distress, betrayals of trust and distrust—and in the end, a quite
conventional and oddly classic story built around a mysterious, unlocatable war
and concluding with an epic battle on the New Jersey Turnpike. Telling several
tangentially related stories, we follow young Cyrus Quince’s road to adulthood
while stopping along the way to ponder his loves and disillusionments. Cyrus is
on a grand quest to collect all kinds of unimportant information so
as to prepare a thorough handbook for aliens visiting earth. The central theme is that
not only can Cyrus <i>not</i> explain human life to aliens, he can’t really explain it
to his friends, his family, or even to himself. It should be noted that this book
has a fantastic narrative voice, but it was the only book on my summer reading
list featuring multiple and continuous narratives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Best line: Bib Block contemplating the mythical status of one
special roadway, <b>“Sooner or later, he believed, at one stage of the journey or
another, all roads led to the New Jersey Turnpike.”</b><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg919lO3eMrFSGHlmdwVMf21jFvI4RP32-phuQuyEMYiNmQ4QHrZenRx-ctfNpbFRV7jsycUpc3BeqdGi_QNTYfRBZ-gMVBfA_LAocM6zBePdglSaQjxnFYiozOHlKBBrIlY1UmUADsWY0/s1600/9780156006217_p0_v2_s260x420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg919lO3eMrFSGHlmdwVMf21jFvI4RP32-phuQuyEMYiNmQ4QHrZenRx-ctfNpbFRV7jsycUpc3BeqdGi_QNTYfRBZ-gMVBfA_LAocM6zBePdglSaQjxnFYiozOHlKBBrIlY1UmUADsWY0/s1600/9780156006217_p0_v2_s260x420.jpg" height="200" width="131" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Magician’s Assistant by Ann Patchett<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When the charming, handsome, and terribly famous
magician Parsifal, dies unexpectedly, Sabine, his widow and faithful assistant
for more than twenty years, discovers his life was built on smoke and mirrors. Sabine
was fine with knowing she was desperately in love with a gay man, and she was
fine with sharing her married life with Parsifal and his late lover Phan. What
she wasn’t fine with was learning upon Parsifal's death that his real name was Guy Fetters, and that he had lied when he claimed to have no living
relatives. Instead he had a mother and two sisters living in his small hometown of Alliance,
Nebraska. Sabine was prepared to dislike his family, because they must have
done something terrible to make him want to deny their existence. However, when
the four women meet each other, their combined love for Parsifal helps Sabine
to accept the shocking events of his youth that motivated him to wipe out his
past. And, in finding herself becoming part of his family, she learns much
about her own desires, responsibilities, and potential. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Best line: <b>“Where we are born is the worst kind of crapshoot.”</b>
Sabine coming to terms with Parsifal’s deception.</span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsIyCpQH_Qa1gs__wXDMnxHAohi061zhfavFRshIbVnJ0Lnlpz3N22CWRGgplFwxbiFRM_RdGSjCPmJeFqII0dRRxALqQ_s0lyMVe9JQyDvUy93MWkmsUm2ncgfuSb9cgTY13X8ZZGnk/s1600/Unknown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsIyCpQH_Qa1gs__wXDMnxHAohi061zhfavFRshIbVnJ0Lnlpz3N22CWRGgplFwxbiFRM_RdGSjCPmJeFqII0dRRxALqQ_s0lyMVe9JQyDvUy93MWkmsUm2ncgfuSb9cgTY13X8ZZGnk/s1600/Unknown.jpg" height="200" width="132" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady by Florence King</b></span><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Confessions of a
Failed Southern Lady</i> is a must read memoir by the irreverent Florence King.
Raised in Northern Virginia and Washington, DC, Ms. King’s path in life was
planned long before she was ever conceived. The trouble is that she was never
good at following instructions. From the minute she was born to her baseball
loving, curse word churning mother and her musician, bartender British father, Ms.
King did her best to stymie her Grandmother’s valiant attempts at rearing her to
be a <i>Perfect Southern Lady</i>. Oh, she
learned plenty of lessons along the way, but the rub came in that she would
carefully pick and choose which lessons to mind and which conventions to break.
And she broke a lot of them. Repeatedly. This memoir is frank, honest, and absolutely
hysterical. A must read, whether you know what it means to be a failed Southern
Lady, or lucky to have ducked that particular punch.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Best line: Ms. King
explaining how deeply some aspects of her training as a Southern Lady were
engrained, "No matter which sex I went to bed with, I never smoked on the
street."</span><b><o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
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Salem Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03272199999239458371noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507656866007788472.post-35428829336664473912014-07-03T13:18:00.000-04:002014-07-03T13:18:56.963-04:00TRR Takes on Poetry with Carbinela and Kaminski<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ23vCJyLbwJzyeSfos2Uq-LXTtXFnpFWPYdVTo5dRDE2cVoApcvr5DINoQUn_-frpzo2A4FGgk7GNuQQ21n4RFWG7T3TpERTXlAPd05RaqbY4ayXVsVd-62zn6akgddW8ItqfbVgo7X4/s1600/Poet+Puzzle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ23vCJyLbwJzyeSfos2Uq-LXTtXFnpFWPYdVTo5dRDE2cVoApcvr5DINoQUn_-frpzo2A4FGgk7GNuQQ21n4RFWG7T3TpERTXlAPd05RaqbY4ayXVsVd-62zn6akgddW8ItqfbVgo7X4/s1600/Poet+Puzzle.jpg" height="189" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Without a doubt, poetry is one of the most mangled
and misunderstood forms of written expression. </span>Whether with great intent or
lack of thought, we are taught from a young age that poetry is rhyme. But in truth, poetry is a complex
jumble of imagery, syntax, diction, rhythm, sound, metaphor, and theme. Even
with its signature compressed and condensed form, poetry manages to convey a
wide range of emotions and ideas to each and every reader. The use of devices
such as assonance and repetition even allow some poems to achieve a near musical cadence. Regardless of what is and isn’t in any given poem, the careful
layering of some-to-all of these effects generates what effectively becomes
that poem’s meaning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Super! Great! Fantastic! </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But how does the
average reader determine whether a poem is good, bad, or ugly? Heck, how does
the above average reader determine whether a poem is strong and successful, or
weak, clichéd, and broken? And perhaps most pressing of all, how does a twitchy
little reviewer determine if a book of poems reaches near mythical levels of
greatness, or plummets into the darkest depths of seriously major suckage?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>That, my friends, is the hundred thousand
dollar question . . . .</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Book: Attar: A Bouquet for You<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Author: Rrrose Carbinela<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Publisher: Regal Crest Enterprises</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7i3dpWNcsm8qCxrQd02WxuPWFZZV_i3eguDc3M84ZSQg4RzCzYqnJWt0kqhzAlXmNqtxa_lKupib_Ivjud7NKVM8GosZeSlTWDF5fTTaIWUVfndHf9SsBvOqqP1ByuabAd-NT92e7vw/s1600/Attar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7i3dpWNcsm8qCxrQd02WxuPWFZZV_i3eguDc3M84ZSQg4RzCzYqnJWt0kqhzAlXmNqtxa_lKupib_Ivjud7NKVM8GosZeSlTWDF5fTTaIWUVfndHf9SsBvOqqP1ByuabAd-NT92e7vw/s1600/Attar.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Poet Rrrose Carbinela’s collection, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Attar: A Bouquet for You</i> takes the
reader on a thirty-year journey through one woman’s life, full-to-brimming with
ecstasy, agony, life, death, and a few fleeting moments of whimsy. The poems
that form this collection each take on a different emotion, and tell stories
that form a well-lived life. The reader is offered small bites of first love
and heartbreak, thunderstorms and desert skies, rants and meditations, Goddesses
and vulnerability. A few poems are sweet and sensuous, while others are dark
and edgy—a small handful even trickle slowly into the murky waters of anger,
fear, war, and the loss of one nation’s collective innocence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">From a technical perspective, Ms. Carbinela’s
descriptions are active and original, showing far more than they tell. And, while
there was an abundance of end rhyme throughout the collection, several of the
poems used unexpected and interesting rhyme schemes and clever line breaks to
great effect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The simplicity of
presentation in many of the poems is appealing because it allows the statements
to speak for themselves. For example, in “Initiation” the author’s solemn vow
is offered up to any higher power that will listen:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And I am ready, I think.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And I am able, I know,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">with your help,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and your guidance,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and your blessings,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">To follow the path you will lead me on,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">to serve,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">to heal, <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">to bring good to those around me.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Beyond the collection of poetry, two special elements
stand out in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Attar: A Bouquet for You</i>:
First, while not unique, the author includes “Poet’s Notes” after the final
poem. These charming little explanations offer a peek inside the poet’s mind,
and allow for further insight and understanding into the inspiration and inner
workings of each poem. And, since poetry is not an exact science, it was
interesting to read the notes, and then compare the backstory to the imagery
presented within each poem. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And,
second, while the cover design is quite lovely and apropos to the content, the
publisher’s choice to go with a matte cover versus a glossy cover was truly
inspired—the muted colors soften the brightness of the red roses, and the matte
texture simulates the feel of rose petals, both giving the reader a surprising
and enhanced sensory experience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Some lovers of poetry are drawn to the
saccharin of sonnets, and others to the edge of rhythmic despair, and this
collection manages to cover most of the real estate in between—sometimes
offering direct experience, sometimes not, drawing on love, life, loss,
history, and myth, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Attar: A Bouquet for
You</i> is clearly a product distilled from the author’s most essential
emotions and experiences.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Zine: The Queer Quartets and Other Poems<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Author: Helena Kaminski<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Publisher: House Hippo Press</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFA80Iu5W3JrwBF5TDtSbCZGpHZU-AXHZCsa9VGIsDauk6Ex73rRr2ps7K_sOan7A3qXPLv8CgvVx1Rn98l_v47gOOuRtuItmSQgWwtrR5nTi79_ZQqJlGkKotMekXnxXEwf7mkxdDXeg/s1600/Queer+Quartets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFA80Iu5W3JrwBF5TDtSbCZGpHZU-AXHZCsa9VGIsDauk6Ex73rRr2ps7K_sOan7A3qXPLv8CgvVx1Rn98l_v47gOOuRtuItmSQgWwtrR5nTi79_ZQqJlGkKotMekXnxXEwf7mkxdDXeg/s1600/Queer+Quartets.jpg" height="200" width="123" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Canadian author Helena Kaminski is largely
unknown to traditional readers of lesbian genre poetry. While she writes on a
broad range of feminist matters, her works have been accepted by the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gay and Lesbian Review, Worldwide</i>, and
the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gramsci Monument</i>, a public arts project
in NYC. She has been published in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Paris Review, New Directions</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">AGNI</i>,
and studied with renowned poet, Thom Gunn of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Movement</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The West End. Bitterly cold out.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Everyone stamping their so-called boots.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Clockwise, it’s the fag end of Saturday.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Counter-clockwise it’s Sunday.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">All the clubbers are screaming something from the B side of<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 3.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">speech,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When the brain cannot quite manage words.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Three women (good guess they’re gay),<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Are taking the air, and it’s taking them ages.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">For every breath they take in, they need a breather.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It’s that cold.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And so begins “I” from h<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">er most recent
release, </span><i>The Queer Quartets and Other Poems</i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">,</span> a chapbook-style zine of queer
feminist poetry published by the upstart House Hippo Press. This edgy and
erotic collection features the “Queer Quartets, I-V,” and three other poems.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Kaminski’s poetry is raw and passionate, full
of rhythm, imagery, and metaphor. Her voice is not just active, but aggressive,
and her poems feature variable sentence structures, lively line breaks, and
original rhyme. For example, in “III”, she uses her poetic style to balance the
edge with the erotic, the cool with the contentious, and the stark with the sensuous.<a href="" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">They might have shared some
weed, a drink and dance,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Topped up with a no-frills
fuck.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What they haven’t done is
click.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Standing there nursing her
full-fat coke, super-sober<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Where everyone’s high,
drunk and<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">O</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ff</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">-duty,
Ms Tall’s on patrol.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The cheesy great strobe
light<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Parceling out its di</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ffused
</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">used psychedelics<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">To every last inch of a
dance-floor and<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Stage that flit unafraid
between retro and techno<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Tonight they all work for
Ms Tall, on the house.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Slave accessories helping
her play<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am an enigma<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">You’ll never break<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But, heh, you go ahead,
try.</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Feminist writers come in many sizes, shapes,
and packages, and Ms. Kaminski’s cadence, funk, verve, and experimental style
bring to mind Post-Beat writer Anne Waldman, whose technique highlights the
intersection of poetry, performance, activism, and feminism. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Queer Quartets and Other Poems</i> isn’t
traditional lesbian genre poetry, but it tells a familiar tale in a way that is
not just compelling but enticing. These poems are loaded with heavy rhythm,
improvisation, free association, rich poetic phrases, clever word play, and their
own special slang—they border on the aggressive and “in your face,” and they make
you want just a little more. I appreciate the look, the sound, and the vibe of Helena
Kaminski’s poetry, and if there is one complaint of the collection, it’s simply
that it wasn’t longer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">William Carlos Williams of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Red Wheelbarrow</i> fame once said, “But
all art is sensual and poetry particularly so. It is directly, that is, of the
senses, and since the senses do not exist without an object for their
employment all art is necessarily objective. It doesn’t declaim or explain, it
presents.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I love two things about his statement: First,
it proves that he was a better poet than he was a philosopher. And, second,
that appreciation of poetry—all poetry—good, bad, or ugly, belongs only to the
reader.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It’s true with any form of
writing, but never more so than with poetry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Salem Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03272199999239458371noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507656866007788472.post-34116829679788174892014-05-28T15:53:00.000-04:002014-05-29T07:15:04.783-04:00Forty Years On with Dykewomon and Jacobs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJs6Ysc5IbFqxalrvrh7ecXn-0KOG65Hn3uCAtiep2097B-X1w-A_D-ebWhAc8T16e-km1CQ-shs6Oi6lnUUhKic90yE47KNYuRZWWHpL3GkROl01IK_2CJvj4P9sbYnIwpQd1v0uLipc/s1600/Patty_Hearst-_Hibernia_bank_robbery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJs6Ysc5IbFqxalrvrh7ecXn-0KOG65Hn3uCAtiep2097B-X1w-A_D-ebWhAc8T16e-km1CQ-shs6Oi6lnUUhKic90yE47KNYuRZWWHpL3GkROl01IK_2CJvj4P9sbYnIwpQd1v0uLipc/s1600/Patty_Hearst-_Hibernia_bank_robbery.jpg" height="200" width="157" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Patty Hearst makes<br />a withdrawl</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The year was 1974, and the world was a wild
and wonderful place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Earth’s population hit 4 billion people, and Patty
Hearst used an M-1 Carbine to make an unauthorized withdrawal from the Hibernia Bank in San Francisco. News anchor, Christine
Chubbock demonstrated, all too effectively, how to commit suicide in a live
broadcast. The last Japanese World War II soldier surrendered on the Indonesian
island of Morota, 34 years after joining the Imperial Japanese Army. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Nineteen seventy-four was the
year that welcomed the bouncing baby glitterati of Ryan Seacrest, Xzibit, and
Victoria Beckham, while saying goodbye to tried-and-true legends like Cass
Elliott, Duke Ellington, Bud Costello, and Agnes Moorehead. In the wonderful
world of literature, panelists, Eyvind Johnson and Harry Martinson scandalized the
Nobel Foundation by jointly awarding themselves the prize for Johnson’s "narrative
art, far-seeing in lands and ages, in the service of freedom" and Martinson’s
"writings that catch the dewdrop and reflect the cosmos". <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Of course they did. Apparently hack
authors like Shel Silverstein, Patricia Highsmith, Maya Angelou, Studs Terkel,
Kurt Vonnegut, Zig Zigler, Gabriel García Márquez, and Judy Blume had absolutely
nothing insightful or compelling to tell.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Nineteen seventy-four was also the
year that Elaine Noble became the first openly queer individual to be elected
to a state legislature when she joined the Massachusetts House of
Representatives. One month later, Allan Spear, future President of the
Minnesota State Senate, revealed to the world that he was a proud gay man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And in Southern Illinois, a twitchy little
blogger-to-be rocked the bowl cut, practiced her cursive, learned her multiplication
tables, and began a love affair for the ages when she discovered homonyms.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But 1974 was notable for one
other very important milestone: an passionate young lesbian published the
groundbreaking novel, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Riverfinger Women</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Book:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Riverfinger
Women<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Author: Elana Dykewomon<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Publisher: OpenRoads Media<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDAJHZRG1JuqL6DO-ZWs4V-egaZL2sgey0Qe_11AILavFlxd4iS5R4ERzd8umv-S3RsD8cGDYgeSjmCV_RpXMPcpV-py1pKekxd61ScMyNIwl3Jw3jeW0Gw2b1hmZ1F2YB1NhpMRnjC_A/s1600/Riverfinger+Woman+Original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDAJHZRG1JuqL6DO-ZWs4V-egaZL2sgey0Qe_11AILavFlxd4iS5R4ERzd8umv-S3RsD8cGDYgeSjmCV_RpXMPcpV-py1pKekxd61ScMyNIwl3Jw3jeW0Gw2b1hmZ1F2YB1NhpMRnjC_A/s1600/Riverfinger+Woman+Original.jpg" height="200" width="129" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In her debut, coming-of-age novel, Dykewomon
presents Inez and her circle of friends—the Riverfinger Women—who are all struggling
to find themselves amid the changing social mores of the Civil Rights era. Inez,
who has known she was a lesbian since childhood, moves from the conservative
confines of her boarding school to a Greenwich Village apartment populated by a
host of moveable figures. It is in the Village that she encounters cascading
new emotions—friendship, romance, longing, disappointment, and a sexual
relationship, with schoolmate Abby. Along with their wide-open friend, Peggy,
Inez and Abby begin a transition into womanhood, all the while confronting
unexpected prejudices. As the story unfolds, the Riverfinger Women explore
sexual violence, prostitution, drugs, love, and odd snippets of happiness during
this unique time of personal and sexual discovery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Many readers of contemporary lesbian
literature tend to shy away from stories that make them work for a payoff. Opting
instead for sexy romps between Barbie twins with impressive bank accounts, or
high-adrenaline shootouts featuring tough and chewy butches with guns and the
vulnerable hotties who love them. However, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Riverfinger
Women</i>, penned by Dykewomon when she was only twenty-four years old, is both
a feminist manifesto and hallmark of lesbian fiction. It manages to combine
equal parts YA angst with cutting-edge exploratory fiction. It’s deep. It’s
dark, It’s gritty. And, it’s a little bit salty. It starts out slowly, and
builds into the powerful confession of a woman and a lesbian coming into her
true self.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Riverfinger Women</i> is a story
that should be read by every lesbian “of a certain age,” because it
deconstructs themes that have run through all of our lives. Dyekwomon’s women made
the world what it is today, just as surely as she helped make us the women we
can be today. But younger readers should read this novel, too. Specifically
because it was written 40 years ago when life as a woman and as a lesbian were
harder, when society was less tolerant, and when books like this were published
in back rooms and mailed out in brown paper wrappers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Forty-years ago, I was seven going on eight.
I didn’t know what a lesbian was, but I’m pretty sure I was one. Elana
Dykewomon, and a legion of strong, smart, and courageous women made sure that
when I grew up, I could say “lesbian” without having to whisper, that I could
marry the love of my life—legally, and that I could write a very public blog on
the World Wide Web featuring books by, for, and about women just like us. We
owe Elana and all of our foremothers the respect of reading the stories that
helped change our world. This is our one, true birthright.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Book:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time Fries!
Aging Gracelessly in Rehoboth Beach<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Author: Fay Jacobs<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Publisher: A&M Books<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Here’s one of the worst kept secrets of the
Lesbiverse: I have a spouse-approved crush on Fay Jacobs. It’s true. When I
grow up, I want to be Fay Jacobs. Until then, I’ll settle for being her Cabana
girl. This is not an easy job. I have to be at the ready with a martini shaker,
polarized Foster Grants, bleu cheese stuffed olives, and three different kinds
of vodka—none of which I might add, are named “Popov.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When I finally got to meet her in person a
few months ago, I actually screamed like a teenage groupie at a Justin Bieber
court hearing. I think I might have even jumped up and down, asked for an
autograph, and thrown my bra at her. I can’t remember, what with all the
swooning and giggling. Fay is a pro, though. She’s used to forty-something
lesbians flinging black Wacoals in her path. Still, she had the good sense to
be amused, sign an autograph, and get her picture taken with me before requesting
a Temporary Restraining Order. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Our relationship is complicated, but it works
for us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Yes, I love me some Fay Jacobs.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwHh30hyphenhyphenwnnb-ZuDJRn4_eBEGAlEDzyUmYfvrW-LPOML7Q7KO_VMpXPGmk4U7wokh_vfO5QgU7ONn_6IxI6UuJGVnLZwv3MDdlPBDzvxUtGmO7Q4it286uMGlQnSeTinwdO-CEdfCBYI/s1600/Time+Fries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwHh30hyphenhyphenwnnb-ZuDJRn4_eBEGAlEDzyUmYfvrW-LPOML7Q7KO_VMpXPGmk4U7wokh_vfO5QgU7ONn_6IxI6UuJGVnLZwv3MDdlPBDzvxUtGmO7Q4it286uMGlQnSeTinwdO-CEdfCBYI/s1600/Time+Fries.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I also love me some <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Time Fries! Aging Gracelessly in Rehoboth Beach</i>. In this, her
latest madcap memoir, Fay takes on technology, social media, catastrophic
insurance, a passive-aggressive GPS, the repeal of DOMA, retirement, downsizing,
and her very own Big, Fat Jewish Wedding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Heck, she even cops to her own life-long, spouse-approved crush on the
lovely and talented Angela Lansbury. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As with her three previous memoirs, Fay’s
stories range from the warm, wise, and witty to the laugh-out-loud. Along the
way, she reminds us how far we have come, but cautions at the distance yet to
travel. As is her trademark, Ms. Jacobs approaches each essay with bracing
honesty, homespun humor, and a hearty helping of self-deprecation. Her writing
is crisp and clean, but her storytelling is epic. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">While I might be a bit biased, it’s
impossible to deny that Fay Jacobs is a national treasure. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Time Fries! </i>and its companions (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">As
I Lay Frying</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fried & True</i>,
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For Frying Out Loud</i>) really and
truly should be read and savored. Fay’s stories are our stories—they’re just a
little more zany, usually involve a marauding horde of Mini Schnauzers, and are
served straight up in a martini glass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As a reviewer, I have been writing about
lesbian literature for three-and-a-half years. Until now, I’ve had one simple, ironclad
rule: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">with so many established and
emerging authors, I will only review each author once</i>. This rule has served
me well. But every now and then I long to revisit an author because the writing
is something special, or because the work contains something that I want to put
on the collective radar of the lesbian reading community. With this blog entry featuring
Elana Dykewomon and Fay Jacobs, I’m breaking my own rule, and writing for a
second time about two of our community’s greatest riches. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I chose Dykewomon’s coming-of-age <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Riverfinger Women</i> because it has been
re-released as an e-Book on its 40th anniversary. Dykewomon, a Jewish lesbian
activist, is a trailblazer in lesbian literature who fiercely navigates an
unkind world through her essays, poetry and fiction—all the while giving women
and lesbians a strong voice and positive imagery. However, the general lesbian
reading community tends to see Dykewomon more as a feminist who writes about
lesbians, rather than as a lesbian who writes about women. The simple truth is
that her voice is poetry, her message is positive, and she helped change how we
read lesbian fiction today. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Besides my spouse-approved crush on Fay
Jacobs, I chose <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Time Fries!</i> because
it captures brilliantly the profanity of the everyday world through the eyes of
a mature woman. Jacobs, another Jewish lesbian activist, is likewise a
trailblazer in lesbian literature who has flung open the doors to her life,
teaching us lessons about faith, trust, love, survival, and dignity. She’s not
just smart and funny, but passionate, sincere, and wide-open. She’s the premier
storyteller of our writing community. Through her stories, everyone—male and
female, and gay and straight—learn how provocative our everyday lives truly
are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Two books and two authors who span a writing
generation. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Dykewomon, writing as a 24-year old, gave us a
deep, dark, moody coming-of-age novel with a happy ending.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Jacobs writing as a 65-year old takes us on a
celebration of life, and all that we hold holy: family, friends, community, the
right to marry, and gay-friendly martini bars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7Y-Cqjn-K34wvYAGhf1hrKstvdBmWfTU6Eobj83K9c9IBMqCQ7S-vXiWm8a61CcMRDWNpkBm0pqxUxDFLVRc_LZ5moTkiAcoTqn_Y7iq0DtGPfX6zztfoyPXfGkTaqJqTqvRuei7IA8/s1600/40+yrs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7Y-Cqjn-K34wvYAGhf1hrKstvdBmWfTU6Eobj83K9c9IBMqCQ7S-vXiWm8a61CcMRDWNpkBm0pqxUxDFLVRc_LZ5moTkiAcoTqn_Y7iq0DtGPfX6zztfoyPXfGkTaqJqTqvRuei7IA8/s1600/40+yrs.jpg" height="51" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>And the world is a very
different place.</i></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Salem Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03272199999239458371noreply@blogger.com17