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readliterately · 7 years
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Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now by Matthew Olzmann
Most likely, you think we hated the elephant,
the golden toad, the thylacine and all variations
of whale harpooned or hacked into extinction.
It must seem like we sought to leave you nothing
but benzene, mercury, the stomachs
of seagulls rippled with jet fuel and plastic.
You probably doubt that we were capable of joy,
but I assure you we were.
We still had the night sky back then,
and like our ancestors, we admired
its illuminated doodles
of scorpion outlines and upside-down ladles.
Absolutely, there were some forests left!
Absolutely, we still had some lakes!
I’m saying, it wasn’t all lead paint and sulfur dioxide.
There were bees back then, and they pollinated
a euphoria of flowers so we might
contemplate the great mysteries and finally ask,
“Hey guys, what’s transcendence?”   
And then all the bees were dead.
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readliterately · 7 years
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Vol. 19: Dream author hangs, Faces in the Crowd, and criollazos
Clicklit: As a poet, cook, and enthusiastic eater who does not make much money each year, I so appreciate this gorgeous, dense, and delicious offering from poet Gabrielle Calvocoressi: The New Economy Chapbook Cookbook: Volume 1. || We all make sense of the world in our own way. Here are some poets’ explosively brilliant attempts at answering the question: “If 2017 was a poem, what would you call it?” || I think every celebrity, business, and organization should have a Poet-in-Residence. We have a lot to offer, us poets. Not the sort of skills you’d find on a resume, but other, more stardusty skills.  Grindr gets it. || Has everyone read Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed yet?! Cheryl Strayed is so much more than a Reese Witherspoon character. She is awesome, and she’s got good advice. — T || A very accurate bookstore name. (Also, still mourning the loss of BookCourt.) || Sage words from Roxane Gay: “I vigorously encourage women and people of color to be ambitious, to want and work for every damn thing they can dream of. We’re allowed to want, nakedly, as long as we’re willing to put in the proverbial work. Ambition is a distraction if it’s the only motivator. I am ambitious because I love what I do, not simply for ambition’s sake.” Also, Difficult Women is dark and uncomfortable and great. You should read it. || Loved this interview with Eula Biss, which includes a discussion about the lts of language and where action needs to start. || This calendar speaks to me. || International Women’s Day has come and gone, but here’s one way to keep the celebration going. || One of the only times the digital version is just a million times better than the print version. I <3 you, NYTimes. || Zan Romanoff (whose newsletter I very much enjoy & recommend) wrote a piece in response to the recent uptick of threats against Jewish community centers and schools. Her conclusion: “When you scare us, all you prove is that we are human, and you have made yourself numb to that fact. You remind me to find something sweet to eat, to call my mother and my friends, to be grateful for the gorgeous resilience of my tradition, and for the fact that we will do everything we can to keep our children safe, except to stop being Jews.”— K
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Book Crü: A bite-sized recap (BSR) followed by a bite-sized discussion (BSD). BSR | Faces in the Crowd is a strange, lovely, and intelligent book. Luiselli deftly weaves together the stories of three characters: a woman living in Mexico City who is writing a novel and also has two young children; a translator living in Harlem (a younger version of the woman?); and Gilberto Owen, a Mexican poet who lived in Harlem during the 1920s. Luiselli jumps back and forth between the three characters, playing with reality and making the reader question whose reality we’re actually in – is the novel we’re reading the one the woman is writing? Or, is the woman an apparition that Owen dreamed up: is she the face in the crowd? Surreal, hazy, and whip-smart, Faces in the Crowd challenges ideas of self, art, and how we define what’s real. BSD | In a book that veers between time, voice, and place, what felt most real to you? – K
In this non-linear, quixotically unencumbered-by-narrative book, what felt most real to me was the idea that our lives are made of paper-thin layers, layers which build up and recede, thicken and erode. We share ourselves willingly and unwillingly; sometimes a child is a blessing, other times a burden; sometimes the shadow of a dead poet in the subway is a curse, sometimes a sacrament. Our lives are more than a sum of our days; our lives are a sum of our interests, our curiosities, and our obsessions. In this book, Luiselli interrogates her interest in poetry, in ghosts, in relationships, and in the ways we are all not one, but many. We are multitudinous, and we multiply. Do we know where ourselves end and our apparitions begin? We do not. — T
LIT LIST!: Authors we’d like to hang out with (and what we’d do).
Taylor’s list:
1. Frank O’Hara: We’d go to the Met and be both quiet (in the presence of art) and loud (in the presence of each other); then we’d drink gin martinis at a bar around the corner and end up at a friend’s place.
2. Emily Dickinson: We’d sit by a pond and gives names to every frog, bobolink, and raven that passed by us. And she’d have prepared us a simple lemon tart, which we would eat with our hands.
3. Patti Smith: We’d start our morning in Paris on the banks of the Seine, with coffee and pain au chocolat, and by nightfall we’d be vandalizing her living room with our Bic pen portraits.
4. James Schuyler: I would awake to find him writing in his notebook at my dining room table, his bare feet tapping out a rhythm on the wooden floor, his eyes fixated on the rain-ruined lilacs. I would silently make him another cup of coffee.
5. Nikki Giovanni: She’d teach me how to make a pie crust (finally!) while we sliced apples in a hot summer kitchen. When the pie was ready, we’d wash it down with spiked lemonade as the sun set.
6. Heidi Julavits: We’d binge-watch Friday Night Lights together and discuss the specifics of our Tim Riggins fantasies. Also celebrity culture, the mini-dramas of pen-palship, and our least favorite recently-raved-about novels.
Kathryn’s list:
7.  Annie Dillard: We would sit by Tinker Creek for an hour, or three. Afterwards, we would compare notes, barefooted.
8. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: Together, we’d shop for party dresses while discussing feminism, because the two things are not mutually exclusive.
9. M.F.K Fisher: We’d cook a feast large enough to feed eight just for the two of us. As we cooked, we’d enjoy a cheese platter, washing it down with copious amounts of red wine.
10. Heidi Julavits: We would go yard sale shopping in Maine and then exchange the small treasures we found that day.
11. Ann Patchett: I’d visit her at her bookstore in Nashville and help her sell books for a day. Our dogs would meet and become the best of friends.
12. Kathleen Collins: She’d take me as her date to a raucous, loud dinner party where candle wax covered the tables, where everyone had an opinion, and together, we’d drink a little too much cheap wine - in a good way.
Here’s a Poem: Prophecy may arrive at any moment. Beware its symptoms.
Word Up: This Spanish word was found in the pages of Faces in the Crowd.
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readliterately · 7 years
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Symptoms of Prophecy by Camille Rankine
In the new century, we lose the art of many things. For example, at the beep, I communicate using the wrong machine. I called to say we have two lives and only one of them is real. When the phone rings: you could be anybody. In the evening: you are homeless and hunting for good light, as safe a place as any to make a bed for the night. In both my lives, my nerves go bust. I’m certain that I’m not as I appear, that I’m a figment and you’re not really here. The struggle is authenticity. I have a message. You must believe me.
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readliterately · 7 years
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Vol. 18: Our carceral nation, Danez Smith, & the books on our bedsides. 📚
Clicklit: I’m feeling so much love for the poet Danez Smith these days that it’s hard to contain myself. Read/listen to “C.R.E.A.M.” here. Next up is “my nig.” Also then why not enjoy “The 17-Year-Old & the Gay Bar” while you’re at it? || You may not know that Kathryn is an amazing trip planner. And nothing makes a great trip like reading a book about the place you’re visiting while you’re there. || Poets are regular people with irregular (read: exciting) inner lives, as Paterson relays (or so I’m told; I haven’t seen it yet). || Being “unlikeable” is one of our culture’s biggest sins pinned on women. May we all strive to write well, treat our loved ones well, and worry less about likeability. || There’s lots of talk these days about the “MFA machine” and what exactly it churns out. || Empathy can replicate faster than cancer cells with a little education. Let’s read these books by & about Muslims. || I like big books & I cannot lie...but there’s also something scrumptious about short novels. || The NYTimes rarely has anything valuable to say about poetry (sad, but true), but this article jives with me. || Yaa Gyasi: trusted news source. || This poem for Obama was written by over 200 poets. YAS. — T || 5 years late on this one, but news still worth sharing, especially in these exciting times. || I went to Ireland last month and of all the stunning scenery I saw, this just might be my favorite. Other fun and bookish adventures I had in Ireland: learning more about James Joyce, discovering new authors (Maeve Brennan, I’m looking at you), and cozying up at pubs while drinking Guinness and reading a local literary journal. Take me back? || Q: What’s the most interesting, memorable, or just plain weird thing you’ve found in a library book? A: A whole, cooked shrimp. (Read on for more.) || Marlon James 4 lyfe. || Counting down the days until March 7th. || The perfect Valentine for your booklover. Xoxo — K
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Book Crü: A bite-sized recap (BSR) followed by a bite-sized discussion (BSD). BSR | The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander, a law professor at Ohio State University, provides a detailed breakdown of the way in which our judicial system has essentially replaced Jim Crow as a racial caste system. As Alexander explains, our country now employs the language of criminal justice, instead of the language of race, thereby designing a legal, practically untouchable way to relegate black Americans to the lowest caste system in our country: felons. She begins with this simple equation: in our country, our judicial system has been designed to target people of color. People of color are then labeled "criminals." And it is legal in our country to discriminate against criminals. Therefore, we have a system of legalized racism in place, and it’s only getting more entrenched by the year. Through her exploration of Emancipation, the Reconstruction Era, the War on Drugs, and myriad court cases throughout our nation's history, Alexander paints a bleak picture of the systematic racism that permeates every aspect of our judicial system. To read this book is to be convinced of the truth: that we are now living under the new Jim Crow. This book is dense, and not an easy read, but each time I finished a chapter, I felt simultaneously heartbroken, enlightened, and emboldened. (I also took copious notes in an effort to retain some of the main points.) Ignorance may be bliss, but knowledge is power, and Alexander empowers us with this immaculately researched explanation of the ways in which the United States refuses to let go of its racialized systems of hierarchy. BSD | Is there a particular anecdote, statistic, or court case in this book that punched you in the gut and left you reeling? – T Every single page of this book was a punch in the gut. Every. Single. Page. (Please don’t let that deter you from reading this, though, since it is probably the most powerful and important book I’ve read in years.) Here’s one such statistic that I found summarizes the main point: the majority of illegal drug users and dealers nationwide are white, but three-fourths of all people imprisoned for drug offenses have been black or Latino (p. 98). If the War on Drugs is a war on criminal behavior, then why are white people not imprisoned at the same rates as blacks and Latinos? There is no reasonable answer to this question that does not involve taking a long, hard look at our criminal justice system and who those laws are targeting. I don’t know how one could read this book without becoming convinced that something is wrong with the way we define criminality in our country. What Alexander proves is the way our system has successfully criminalized a racial group, as opposed to specific illegal actions. Something is wrong when 1 in 14 black men became incarcerated in 2006, compared with 1 in 106 white men (p. 100). Something is very, very wrong. The hardest part for me about this book was that it was published in 2012 during the Obama administration. What was devastating under Obama can only get worse under Trump. P.S. I watched this documentary while reading The New Jim Crow. Alexander is featured, along with other activists, intellectuals, and politicians, including some surprises (Newt Gingrich…?). If you get a chance, watch it. — K
LIT LIST!: Books On Our Bedsides Right Now
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1. When Women Were Birds by Terry Tempest Williams 2. Herbal Rituals by Judith Berger 3. The Days of Abandonment by Elena Ferrante 4. The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander 5. Night Sky with Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong 6. Half Wild by Robin MacArthur 7. Notebook for my writing group – T
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1. Women Who Read Are Dangerous by Stefan Bollman 2. The Springs of Affection by Maeve Brennan 3. Middlemarch by George Eliot 4. The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin 5. Seven Brief Lessons on Physics by Carlo Rovelli 6. The Odd Woman and the City by Vivian Gornick 7. Signs Preceding the End of the World by Yuri Herrera 8. Vertigo by Joanna Walsh 9. Subtly Worded by Teffi — K
Here’s a Poem: Our lives are things we make up ourselves, as we go along. Let’s celebrate our selves, each our own invention.
Word Up: #relevant to this month's Book Crü selection.
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readliterately · 7 years
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won’t you celebrate with me by Lucille Clifton
won’t you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon both nonwhite and woman what did i see to be except myself? i made it up here on this bridge between starshine and clay, my one hand holding tight my other hand; come celebrate with me that everyday something has tried to kill me and has failed.
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readliterately · 7 years
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Vol. 17: Mothers, Bookmarks, and Shmatas
Clicklit: Anne Carson is one of my patron saints; I would anthologize her ephemera with pleasure. Hoping Santa/Channukah will give me Float this holiday season. || I believe in love at first sight; I believe in friendship at first sight (I also believe in book-love at first sight). || Chris Kraus is a definitely a weird lady and I definitely like her. || Jane Hirschfield on our new (and terrible?) world: "Until anger and insult know themselves burnable legs of a useless chair.” || I will not lie, I did not love Swing Time, not one bit, but Zadie redeems herself with this (and her fabulous head scarf styling doesn’t hurt either). || Did I ever tell you about the time Mary Ruefle wrote me a letter stating, essentially, that she had no interest in being my friend? Oh well. Still interested in every little thing she has to say. || I use a photograph of Grace Paley standing in a Vermont creek in a white summer shmata as a bookmark. || Kathryn, do you think readers will know what a shmata is? (It’s Yiddish for a housedress.) – T || Super excited about this new project from two writers/lit-lovers I adore. Any place where lit meets life is a place I want to be. || I printed out Ta-Nehisi Coate’s piece on President Obama because I wanted to hold it in my hands. It’s momentous and uplifting and heartbreaking and I keep wishing that the ending were different. || NPR’s book concierge is back! || Speaking of holiday wishes… || Reading and re-reading Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s essay: “Now is the time to counter lies with facts, repeatedly and unflaggingly, while also proclaiming the greater truths: of our equal humanity, of decency, of compassion. Every precious ideal must be reiterated, every obvious argument made, because an ugly idea left unchallenged begins to turn the color of normal. It does not have to be like this.” Wishing you action and hope in 2017. – K
Book Crü: A bite-sized recap (BSR) followed by a bite-sized discussion (BSD).
BSR | The Mothers by first-time author Brit Bennett tells the story of Nadia Turner, a young woman who has recently lost her mother to suicide. We meet Nadia as she’s in the throes of dealing with (and not dealing with) her grief by entering a relationship with Luke, the pastor’s son. It’s both a typical and atypical teen romance. Yes, Nadia is pretty and yes, she’s popular. Yes, Luke was a big football star. But Nadia gets pregnant. But Nadia is realistic, ambitious, and has plans to go to college. Needless to say, they do not get married and live happily every after.
The Mothers follows Nadia as she makes the decision to not become a mother. As the story unfolds, we watch the impact that this decision  has on her life and the lives around her, including Aubrey, another motherless girl who Nadia befriends through their shared loss and who becomes Nadia’s closest friend.
Brit Bennett, who also authored the excellent essay “I Don’t Know What to Do with Good White People,” writes warmly, carefully, and cleanly. She also writes deceivingly: what may seem like a simple storyline on the surface shows itself to be deeply complex. Race, class, family, growing up, community, religion, power, love, and friendship are covered under Bennett’s skilled and insightful watch. I, for one, can’t wait to see what Bennett writes next. In the meantime, you may just find me re-reading The Mothers to fill the gap. (Also: can we talk about THAT COVER?! Genius.)
BSD | Who are the true mothers in this book? – K
The mothers in this book are mostly absent or speak only in whispers, and yet they loom over the main characters lives. Of course, absence can have its own potent effect, sometimes changing the course of a life even more than presence.  In this book’s case, I believe that the “true mothers” are the mothers who are no longer part of the story – the mothers whose lives have ended or have taken them elsewhere, leaving Nadia and Aubrey to mother themselves.
I like to think the title most directly references the church mothers, who watch the plot unfold from a similar stance as us, the readers: they are privy to some private moments, but not others; they see the characters get older, but only from a certain angle; they hear bits of stories, but not the whole stories. As the two main characters are forced to grow up and become more than somebody’s child, we get to enjoy the ways that their lives draw close, then further apart, and then close again. We, like the mothers, have opinions on their lives, despite not knowing the full story. And when we do find out the full story, perhaps we are silenced, as the mothers are, by the assumptions we once held. – T
Extra, extra! Next month we’ll be reading The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander. Join the crü by reading along with us + sending us your best photo of the book in the wild (a “shelfie,” if you will) for a chance to be featured in next month’s issue!
Lit List: Things I Have Used as a Bookmark — K
A coffee card from an adorable plant and coffee shop near my apartment.
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2. A used ticket from seeing a musical with family.
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3. A paper clip found on my desk.
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4. A receipt from a previous book purchase.
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5. A bobby pin to tame wild hair.
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6. A folded tissue: startlingly serious with its precise, folded corners.
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7. A metro card with 19 cents left on it.
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8. A postcard from a friend who went on a magical trip.
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9. A library card inspired by the sea.
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10. A fancy pencil gifted to me by a loved one.
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11. Documentation of my dog’s first time in a photo booth.
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12. An actual bookmark.
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-K
Here’s a Poem: This poem moves fast but knows slowness; this poem knows what kills. – T
Word Up: A talent we admire. 
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readliterately · 7 years
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The/A Train by David Tomas Martinez
A honey badger’s skin can
withstand multiple blows
from machetes, arrows,
and spears, but these rusted
weapons haven’t killed
anything in years, so that may
be the lesson there, that
there is no there there, like
many poems, like many
revolutions, and maybe there
isn’t a there there in many
people only that foggy
anachronistic lizard eye,
or what I have come to call
the part of consciousness that
builds impediments, isolates,
the “supertrump.” Or
what New Yorkers call
subways. Or what a King
calls a dream. Or what X
called Y. What the crowd
yells as lit, The Cave calls dim.
What they deem in West
Tejas as a fancy evening out
is rocking on the porch,
aint they good at irony,
where watching the fugitive
moon runaway takes days,
like the time I caught the C
I hoped was an A, and saw a
butterfly move in what I can
only say is protest. The wings
made small combustions
through the car. Eyes trained.
The awful is tracked by
awe. An officer lifts his
gun, yells to raise your hands
higher the TV flutters.
Watch it. They will
call you moth and kill you.
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readliterately · 7 years
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Vol. 16 | Non-literary thoughts on a new era.💔✊💗
Hi friends. It doesn’t feel right to move forward with our regularly-scheduled literary programming this month. As much as literature can open our hearts, expand the borders of our empathy, and wizen us to our gaps in knowledge, reading is – literally – not enough right now. We’re still trying to figure out how to harness our anger and fear into action, how to support and advocate for those around us who feel unsafe, how to reject the hatred that Trump and many of his supporters have espoused, and how to stay hopeful without being naïve or passive. As terrified as we are of what Trump represents, we are even more terrified to accept it and to normalize it. So, as the days pile up and Election Day moves further into the past, we urge you not to forget your feelings of anger, fear, or incredulity. We urge you to act.
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Anti-Trump rally in Portland, ME. Photo by Camille Ives.
Here is a handful of ways that you can take a stand:
1) Activate your rights as a citizen: call your government and hold them accountable. If you’re nervous about calling your representative or don’t know where to start, take a look at this sheet. Making a call is quick, thrilling, and satisfying.  The amount of calls our reps receives matters. Your voice matters!
2) Donate your time or money (or both!) to organizations that are threatened by Trump. If you can afford it, set up a recurring monthly donation, which will ensure that you won’t forget to keep offering your support even when this time of upheaval settles down. A monthly donation also helps organizations be more financially secure because they know they will get “x” amount of money that month. While there are dozens and dozens of organizations that could use your support, here are some ideas:
Planned Parenthood. Because they provide healthcare to millions of women and men who need it. Because women’s rights are human rights. Because you can donate in honor of Mike Pence.
ACLU. Because the ACLU will be more necessary than ever under Trump.
Sierra Club. Because the earth is where we live. Because according to Trump, climate change is a “hoax.”
Southern Poverty Law Center. Because they fight hate and intolerance. (They also have a petition against Stephen Bannon you can sign.)
Black Lives Matter. Because they do. Find your local chapter and become a member.
Showing Up for Racial Justice. Because it’s important that we all show up. This is an amazing organization that likely has a chapter near you.
Black Youth Project 100. Because employing a black queer feminist lens to advocate for all Black people takes into account the multiplicity of the Black American experience.
Sylvia Rivera Law Project. Because the freedom to self-determine one’s gender identity and expression is an American right.
The nearest immigration non-profit to you. Because we are all immigrants to this country, some of us just happened to have arrived more recently than others.
TransWomen of Color Collective. Because the liberation of all people includes the liberation of trans and gender non-conforming people of color.
United We Dream. Because all of the Obama Executive Action recipients will likely be at the top of the deportation list once Obama’s executive order is repealed by Trump.
Council on American-Islamic Relations. Because freedom of religion is a constitutional right. Because we must reject fear-mongering.
3) Engage with your neighbors and become more involved in your community. It is very likely that there are groups of people in your neighborhood partaking in important work that you do not know about. It is also very likely that many of them do not share your opinions. Talking across difference is a powerful way to gain knowledge, create alliances, and broaden your heart. (For example, while this initiative is only active in NYC, it could easily be replicated in many other communities.)
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At Oakland's "Hands Around Lake Merritt" rally. Photo by Jamie Thrower.
Here’s a Poem:  This prose poem by Joy Harjo will take you to the far northern tundra and talk to you about turning hatred into something else. 
Transformations 
This poem is a letter to tell you that I have smelled the hatred you have tried to find me with; you would like to destroy me. Bone splintered in the eye of one you choose to name your enemy won’t make it better for you to see. It could take a thousand years if you name it that way, but then, to see after all that time, never could anything be so clear. Memory has many forms. When I think of early winter I think of a blackbird laughing in the frozen air; guards a piece of light. (I saw the whole world caught in that sound, the sun stopped for a moment because of tough belief.) I don’t know what that has to do with what I am trying to tell you except that I know you can turn a poem into something else. This poem could be a bear treading the far northern tundra, smelling the air for sweet alive meat. Or a piece of seaweed stumbling in the sea. Or a blackbird, laughing. What I mean is that hatred can be turned into something else, if you have the right words, the right meanings, buried in the tender place in your heart where the most precious animals live. Down the street an ambulance has come to rescue an old man who is slowly losing his life. Not many can see that he is already becoming the backyard tree he has tended for years, before he moves on. He is not sad, but compassionate for the fears moving around him. 
That’s what I meant to tell you. One the other side of the place you live stands a dark woman. She has been trying to talk to you for years. You have called the same name in the middle of a nightmare, from the center of miracles. She is beautiful. This is your hatred back. She loves you. 
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Brisa Pinho's 3-year-old son at a rally in New York.
Thank you for reading, and for doing what you can to create the change you wish to see in our world. Thank you to our friends and family members who have contributed to this issue of Read Literately, who have spoken with us during this past week of anger, tears, and questioning, and who offer us the transformative power of their love. May we all move forward with open hearts, high hopes, and new partnerships.
with heart, Taylor + Kathryn 
PS: Beloved hero Rebecca Solnit is offering her e-book Hope In the Dark for free for the next 12 hours. Get on it! 
PPS: The election of Donald Trump and the death of Leonard Cohen is a strange, mournful combination. But we will sing about these dark times.
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readliterately · 7 years
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Milk Shake by Mary Ruefle
I am never lonely and never bored. Except when I bore myself, which is my definition of loneliness—to bore oneself. It makes a body lonesome, that. Today I am very bored and very lonely. I can think of nothing better to do than grind salt and pepper into my milk shake, which I have been doing since I was thirteen, which was so long ago the very word thirteen has an old-fashioned ring to it, one might as well say Ottoman Empire. Traditionally, thirteen is an unlucky number. Little did I know at thirteen that I was on the road, by a single action, to loneliness and boredom. My friend Vicki and I were sitting at the lunch counter in Woolworth’s, waiting for the milk shakes we had ordered—hers chocolate, mine vanilla—when she got up to go to the ladies’ room. The chocolate shake came while she was gone and as a joke I sprinkled salt and pepper on it, because I was, though I didn’t know it, young and callous and cruel. Vicki came back, she took the paper off her straw, she stuck her straw in her milk shake, she sucked through the straw for what seemed an eternity, and then she swallowed, which seemed like forever. This is the best milk shake I have ever had. That’s what she said, though she didn’t say it as much as she sighed it. The best shake I’ve ever had. In such sudden and unexpected ways does boredom begin. I tried her milk shake, I told her what I had done, the vanilla shake came, and we salt-and-peppered that one, too, and afterward we were bored, so we went shopping—we were in Woolworth’s after all—though by shopping we meant shoplifting, as any lonely bored thirteen-year-old knows. Vicki stole a tub of the latest invention, lip gloss, which was petroleum jelly dyed pink, and I stole a yellow lace mantilla to wear to Mass on Easter Sunday, though I never wore it to Mass; I wore it to confession the Saturday before, confessing to the priest that I had stolen the very thing I was wearing on my head. Why not? I had nothing else to confess. Playing a mean trick on my best friend, even one that turned out all right, didn’t seem worth the bother. What bothered me was that the priest seemed bored by my confession; I had thought to shock him, but it was he who shocked me, as I had so little experience of adult boredom. He gave me three Hail Marys and closed the screen. What was happening? I had shocked myself by stealing the mantilla and then confessing it, but bored the priest, whose boredom now shocked me, though it would bore me later, years later, when lip gloss was as common as clover, when the idea of Catholic women covering their heads was antiquated, when priests were suspected of being callous and cruel and the combination of salt and sugar was a raging trend, served in all the swank joints and upscale places. But, as I said, I am never lonely and never bored, and if today is an exception, it is the age-old exception of every day, for every day turns into tomorrow, and tomorrow turns into today, and today into yesterday, and I confess there is very little any of us can do to change it.
[Originally published in a recent issue of The Paris Review.]
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readliterately · 7 years
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Vol. 14 | Summer's over & Read Literately is BACK! 📚 📚 📚
Clicklit: Super into this trend of independent publishers opening their own bookstores. And if you’re into it, too, you can still support Milkweed’s kickstarter to help make their store happen. | For all you New Yorkers: it’s Brooklyn Book Festival time! | Making a plan to attack all the new fall releases with the help of LitHub’s handy guide. | I’m also counting down the days until Zadie Smith’s Swing Time is published. | Speaking of Zadie, she’s been singing Rachel Kaadzi Ghana’s praises, so I had to look into her. Her essay on James Baldwin’s house did not disappoint. (This essay is also included in Jesmyn Ward’s new collection The Fire This Time. I’m halfway through and am both devastated and hopeful.) |Monstrous births, enjoli, and mother, writer, monster, maid. | Marie-Helene Bertino had me just with the title of this essay. | Winona, forever. | Read books, live longer. | I just signed up for a trial period of the newly re-launched Book of the Month. On to you, Taylor! – K | Get ready for our Book Crü selection next month. | Do you read The Reductress yet?Ladygeniuses. | A heart-splaying work of fiction by Kristin Dombek. (I never thought a threesome would make it so eloquently into the pages of The Paris Review.) | A young poet named Max Ritvo recently died of cancer. Read this interview and then go read more.| I love you, Ann Patchett! | For you readers on-the-go: popular books summarized in three sentences or less. | From Rebecca Solnit: don’t read on trend. Read from the past. Read wild and weird (+ 9 more tips on how to be a writer). | Off I go to order Commonwealth! – T
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Book Crü: A bite-sized recap (BSR) followed by a bite-sized discussion (BSD). BSR | Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi tells the story of two half-sisters, Effia and Esi, who are both born in Ghana, but who never know the other exists. Effia is forced to marry a white slave trader, but secures her and her children’s protection while Esi is captured, sold, and brought to the United States. From here, Homegoing follows the families of each sister over 300 years. In Ghana, we watch as Effia’s family confronts its history in contributing to the slave trade and as Ghana eventually gains its independence from Britain. In the United States, we follow Esi’s family through slavery, emancipation, the Great Migration, the Harlem Renaissance and into the present. Each chapter takes place in a different time period and is told from the perspective of a new character. While this structure allows Gyasi to cover more ground, it left me wanting more, especially when I got attached to a character (which happened pretty much every time, which is a good sign).   Homegoing is Gyasi's first book, but one would never be able to tell. She writes with power, purpose, and clarity, and no one is spared as she digs into the ugly history of slavery and illuminates its lasting impact on society today. BSD | The book spans 300 years and tells the story from the point of view of fourteen different characters. What did you think of the structure of the book? How did it affect your reading experience? – K Homegoing is, hands-down, one of the best books I've read this year. It contains the type of writing that is so skilled I felt as if the words were entering directly into my body, unfettered by language or plot. The ease with which Gyasi moves the story through one generation to the next is astounding, and although I agree with Kathryn that I was left craving more about each character, I think Gyasi's pace was right on point. We care for each of Gyasi's characters not only as a result of his or her experiences, but also because we know their creation stories: who made them and under what circumstances. Understanding the family lineage allows us to empathize in an ever-deepening way, engendering sensitivity to the character's struggles, fears, passions, and gaps in knowledge. As we come to know each generation individually, we gain an increasingly nuanced understanding of their black experience of suffering, injustice, and triumph, both in the United States and in Ghana. Homegoing affirmed my belief that stories contain the power to provide understanding, compassion, and insight. This book offers us the tale of two black lineages, histories that make me suffer, wince, and pray. But even though this book is an education, it is also a joy to read. Like all good novels, it offers us the gift of empathy, a gift we need now more than ever as we struggle to understand the continued effects of slavery on our still-young nation. – T
LIT LIST!: A new Read Literately category. It’s fresh, it’s pithy, and it lists something literary in no particular order.
What We Read On Our Summer Vacation
The Girls by Emma Cline
The Turner House by Angela Flourney
Behold the Dreamers by Imbolo Mbue
Modern Lovers by Emma Straub
The Nest by Cynthia D’Aprix Sweeney
The Assistants by Camille Perri
Rich and Pretty by Rumaan Alam
Another Brooklyn by Jacqueline Woodson
Tuesday Nights in 1980 by Molly Prentiss
The Sleepwalker’s Guide to Dancing by Mira Jacob
The Fire This Time edited by Jesmyn Ward
A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara
Sweetbitter by Stephanie Danler
Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude by Ross Gay
I Love Dick by Chris Kraus
The Complete Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi
The Ecology of Care by Didi Pershouse
You may have noticed that most of these books are by women, and many of them are by first-time authors. You may also have noticed that we read a lot of books, period. It’s what we’re into!
Here’s a Poem: Sweetness remains in the world, even when it's hard to find.
Word Up: Try this word on for size and comfort.
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CONFESSION: We took a little summer break. Life beckoned us: we quit old jobs and got new ones; we moved across the country; we drank copious amounts of summer beverages. But we’re back and thrilled to dive into all the literary goodness that’s to come, so thanks for sticking with us.
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Sweetness by Stephen Dunn
Just when it has seemed I couldn’t bear   
  one more friend   
waking with a tumor, one more maniac  
  with a perfect reason, often a sweetness   
  has come   
and changed nothing in the world   
except the way I stumbled through it,   
  for a while lost   
in the ignorance of loving  
  someone or something, the world shrunk   
  to mouth-size,   
hand-size, and never seeming small.   
I acknowledge there is no sweetness   
  that doesn’t leave a stain,   
no sweetness that’s ever sufficiently sweet ....   
Tonight a friend called to say his lover   
  was killed in a car   
he was driving. His voice was low   
and guttural, he repeated what he needed   
  to repeat, and I repeated   
the one or two words we have for such grief   
until we were speaking only in tones.   
  Often a sweetness comes   
as if on loan, stays just long enough   
to make sense of what it means to be alive,   
  then returns to its dark   
source. As for me, I don’t care   
where it’s been, or what bitter road   
  it’s traveled   
to come so far, to taste so good.
(And if you want more poems in your life, sign up for Taylor’s poem share!)
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readliterately · 8 years
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Vol. 13 | All the Single Ladies 👯, Feminism, and Literary Witches
Clicklit: Taking sartorial advice from Leopoldine Core this summer. | On the importance of diaries for black women writers. | Studying the MFA. | How to make sure your writing is forgotten. | Reading all I can about Valeria Luiselli after finishing The Story of My Teeth. |Feminism and Eileen Myles. | The most beautiful combination of poetry and illustration. | I just can’t quit Maggie Nelson. | “Finally, I was someone who created without having to be asked, without waiting to be addressed.” Jenny Zhang on her summer working at Shakespeare and Company. | Enjoying these excerpts from Hot Dog Taste Test, especially this one. | “When you’re looking for things, the thing that’s the aside is the thing that becomes interesting.” An interview with Angela Flournoy. | Feminism for sale. | How to pay for digital journalism? | A conversation with Ann Friedman. | The intersection of poetry and music. | Baby-Sitters Club for the modern woman. | The Bad Women Panel: Emily Schultz speaks with Anna North, Chloe Caldwell, and Jenny Zhang about female characters and likeability (also, so looking forward to Caldwell’s forthcoming collection of essays from Emily Books and Coffee House Press). | On accents and home. | An updated list of women-run presses. | An exciting project from PEN America. | Literary witches. On to you, Taylor! – K | I just need to add in a few lit quips that I cannot keep inside. Like: this excellent book of poetry, you name the price. (I went to poetry camp with this woman and she has the stuff.). | Poet CA Conrad, who is single-handedly making Facebook interesting (check out his posts please), will be featured in a documentary. | YAS! Poetry podcasts! |That’s all the lit that’s fit to print. Stay literate, ladies ‘n gents. – T
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Book Crü: A bite-sized recap (BSR) followed by a bite-sized discussion (BSD). BSR | All the Single Ladies by Rebecca Traister is a fact-laden, anecdote-generous education on the life and impact of the single woman in America. I heard on an interview (on the fabulous podcast Call Your Girlfriend) that Traister’s pitch for this book went something like this: “Single women in our society are a modern phenomenon that needs to be written about.” Interestingly, when she began her research, she realized that the “phenomenon” of the single woman in society was not a new one. In fact, single women have consistently acted as harbingers of cultural change in our country for many generations. In this book, Traister equips us with enough statistics to speak intelligently and vehemently about the persistent shunting of women in our culture. There’s no denying that single women are a force to be reckoned with, not only socially, politically, and sexually, but culturally as well. BSD | Did you find this book empowering, or the opposite? – T I found this book both empowering and frustrating. I’m frustrated by the history of women battling to have basic human rights and frustrated that marriage is often a cultural expectation, rather than a choice. I’m frustrated that being a mother and having a career are frequently pitted as conflicting priorities. I’m frustrated that US policy could still do so much more to support women and families (we could start by guaranteeing paid maternity leave). Really,  I’m frustrated that this book even needed to be written. However, I’m also empowered because this book documents the changes in women’s rights that have taken place, the changes that are coming, and the movers and shakers who have inched our society forward (good lord, there are so many inspirational women!). I’m also empowered by the women and men in my life, including my women friends, who have demonstrated that you can be successful and career-motivated while also maintaining loving and supportive relationships with their chosen partners – married or not. I’m empowered by my sister, who is a policy wonk and advocates for women’s rights around the globe, and is also a new mother to an adorable baby boy who already has several onesies that proudly proclaim he is a feminist. I’m inspired by my husband, who was excited to participate in a video discussing the importance of talking openly about women’s health, and I’m grateful to my parents, who have encouraged my sister, brother, and me to follow our goals, regardless of gender. The tide is changing for women, but the danger is in becoming complacent. This book is a wake-up call that the onus is on us to continue to push forward. – K
LIT LIST!: A new Read Literately category. It’s fresh, it’s pithy, and it lists something literary in no particular order.
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Here’s a Poem: Eileen Myles speaks her truth re: Proust, summer, peanut butter, and the way that “All/the things I/embrace as new/are in/fact old things,/re-released.”
Word Up: Try this word on for size and comfort.
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readliterately · 8 years
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Peanut Butter by Eileen Myles
I am always hungry
& wanting to have
sex. This is a fact.
If you get right
down to it the new
unprocessed peanut
butter is no damn
good & you should
buy it in a jar as
always in the
largest supermarket
you know. And
I am an enemy
of change, as
you know. All
the things I
embrace as new
are in
fact old things,
re-released: swimming,
the sensation of
being dirty in
body and mind
summer as a
time to do
nothing and make
no money. Prayer
as a last re-
sort. Pleasure
as a means,
and then a
means again
with no ends
in sight. I am
absolutely in opposition
to all kinds of
goals. I have
no desire to know          
where this, anything
is getting me.
When the water
boils I get
a cup of tea.
Accidentally I
read all the
works of Proust.
It was summer
I was there
so was he. I
write because
I would like
to be used for
years after
my death. Not
only my body
will be compost
but the thoughts
I left during
my life. During
my life I was
a woman with
hazel eyes. Out
the window
is a crooked
silo. Parts
of your
body I think
of as stripes
which I have
learned to
love along. We
swim naked
in ponds &
I write be-
hind your
back. My thoughts
about you are
not exactly
forbidden, but
exalted because
they are useless,
not intended
to get you
because I have
you & you love
me. It’s more
like a playground
where I play
with my reflection
of you until
you come back
and into the
real you I
get to sink
my teeth. With
you I know how
to relax. &
so I work
behind your
back. Which
is lovely.
Nature
is out of control
you tell me &
that’s what’s so
good about
it. I’m immoderately
in love with you,
knocked out by
all your new
white hair
why shouldn’t
something
I have always
known be the
very best there
is. I love
you from my
childhood,
starting back
there when
one day was
just like the
rest, random
growth and
breezes, constant
love, a sand-
wich in the
middle of
day,
a tiny step
in the vastly
conventional
path of
the Sun. I
squint. I
wink. I
take the
ride.
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Vol. 12: We’re One Year Old!
Clicklit: Caitlin Moran in Esquire UK being hilarious. | "What Romance Really Means, After 10 Years of Marriage" is a show-stopper. | It's a goal. It's a mug. | Not surprisingly, it matters which books get reviewed. | Charlotte Shane and Jenny Zhang interview each other about writing about sex. | Support a poet: hire me for your next big occasion. | Still loving on Maggie Nelson after all these months. | "Do You Even Language, Bro?" | A poet named Ocean in The New Yorker, saying "I don’t think there’s ever a day when I don’t ask myself what I should be doing with these hands." | Newsletter creator/famous person, Lena Dunham, now has her own imprint at Random House. Maybe the Read Literately imprint will be next?! | Still dying to read The BreakBeat Poets anthology. Anyone have a copy to lend me? | Adrienne Rich was a human woman, just like us. | Celebrate National Poetry month by reading Ada Limon's poem about pissing when and where she need to. – T
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Book Crü: A bite-sized recap (BSR) followed by a bite-sized discussion (BSD).
BSR | Outline by Rachel Cusk is a novel comprised of conversations. The narrator is an English writer teaching a summer course in Athens. Her name is Faye, although we do not learn this until near the end of the book. We come to understand that Faye is someone who is suffering beneath the surface, though the specifics are only alluded to. Instead, through Faye’s conversations, we learn the innermost confessions of her companions: the man she sits next to on the plane to Athens tells her about his marriages and why they failed; a fellow writing instructor explains why he is content to be a one-time author; a student recounts her domestic war with the family dog. But while she draws others out, Faye remains an outline: the reader is left to fill in the pieces. Outline is both unsettling and wildly intelligent; when I finished, my first instinct was to pick the book up and start all over again.
BSD | What is the meaning of the title “Outline”? – K
There are two ways to know one’s self: one direct (“this is who I am”), and one indirect (“this is who I am not”). In Outline, we must learn who the protagonist is through an assessment of who she is not. This occurs through a series of ten conversations between the narrator and those she meets on a trip to Athens. Throughout all of these interactions, the narrator holds the details of her life hostage. As a result, it is only through the divergences between her and her companions that we are able to ascertain the ghost lines that draw the delineation of her character. All we have are her impressions, her reactions, and the questions she asks of her companions. The project of this book reminded me of the way that a person’s poetry can relay so much about him or her, without offering up anything biographical.
This book was exquisitely executed, and yet alienated me with its unwillingness to open up even small doors into the character of Faye. Although the writing was beautiful, I was held at too far a distance and denied the pleasure of closeness. I have always understood the creation of art as an act of undressing. Outline sits like a queen on a throne, swaddled in clothing, seeing all, yet unwilling to divulge a single crumb of confession. – T
Extra, extra! Next month we’ll be reading All the Single Ladies by Rebecca Traister. Join the crü by reading along with us + sending us your best photo of the book in the wild (a “shelfie,” if you will) for a chance to be featured in next month’s issue!
LIT LIST!: A new category that’s fresh, pithy, and lists something literary in no particular order.
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Here’s a Poem: Spring: defined by growth, the songs of birds, and wet laundry on the line.
Word Up: We found this word in Rachel Cusk's Outline. Ya learn something new every book!
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readliterately · 8 years
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Masters by Molly Bashaw
Between the wet clothes, I hang them on the line: a shirt, a poem, a sock, a poem, and then the long room of cotton sheets
the wind opens.
If nothing dries today, let it wait with sparrows, and I'll wait too, half naked on the grass until the Canada geese pull
or the eggplants --who are never far away-- call from their white flowers, unbuttoning
the purple shades of black.
They turn their heads from the dirt, closing everything behind them as though they have always known
where they were going.
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readliterately · 8 years
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Vol. 11: Terrance Hayes, Ladyfriendships, & Nobody Milquetoast
Clicklit: Why aren’t we reading natives? | A perfect mish-mash of fame and literature. (I’ve got my eye on this one.) | In praise of New Directions and staying small. | 216 writers writing 216 words, starting on 2/16/16. | An interview series on writers sharing how they first got started. | Going a step further than Jane Eyre: eight additional “coming-of-age” novels we should be reading. | Before they’re gone: on Brooklyn’s Admiral’s Row houses. | In awe of these women: literature, literacy, and self-publishing during war. | Brooklyn Magazine went hard on the state of publishing today: a compilation of 50 voices on diversity and where the industry is going; a flow-chart explaining how to publish a book; a partial reading list on diversity and publishing (spanning as far back as 1965!), and 23 steps we should take to end publishing’s diversity problem. | Harper Lee, in her own words. | I have no idea how to use Snapchat, but I’m intrigued by the possibilities of this app (mainly the promise of being able to finally organize my reading list). | Three unpublished essays from Annie Dillard, who strives to “call for fireworks, with only a ballpoint pen.” (She always succeeds, in my humble opinion.) | An interview with Ashley C. Ford. | George Plimpton and Sunny’s Bar – a magical combination I never knew I needed.| Are you up for an experiment?  – K
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Book Crü: A bite-sized recap (BSR) followed by a bite-sized discussion (BSD). BSR | Terrance Hayes’s poetry collection How To Be Drawn is a full-bodied and garrulous book, one that explores the construction of the American black body through discussions of history, visual arts, and a variety of daily experiences that set Hayes’s mind on fire. The title of the book sets the tone for a visually-based exploration of the gazer and the receiver of the gaze, and his three titled sections relay his struggle with this tense relationship: “Troubled Bodies,” “Invisible Souls,” and “A Circling Mind.” Throughout the wide-ranging collection, Hayes investigates ways for black bodies to shift the perspective and take control of their own image. Let us draw and not be drawn, he asserts, while also advocating for better ways of being seen. In his words: “Camera, you really have to love us/to keep us from disappearing.” BSD | What themes, phrases, poems, or moments speak the loudest to you in this collection? Why? – T I think this is the first time I’ve ever read an entire volume of poetry. Normally, I get my poetry in little bursts and gasps – a poem here, a poem there, and then back to prose. It was challenging to read a full collection, but it forced me to think about the statement that the book is making and not just how an individual poem stands on its own. It also allowed me to experience different iterations of Hayes’s skill. And this may seem frivolous knowing the heavy themes that Hayes is exploring, but I couldn’t stop marveling at Hayes’s use of language. His mastery is evident throughout the book. Take “American Sonnet for Wanda C.” as an example: Who I know knows why all those lush-boned worn-out girls are Whooping at where the moon should be, an eyelid clamped On its lightness. Nobody sees her without the hoops firing in her Ears because nobody sees. Tattooed across her chest she claims Is bring me back to where my blood runs and I want that to be here Where I am her son, pent in blackness and turning the night’s calm Loose and letting the same blood fire through me. In her bomb hair: Shells full of thunder; in her mouth: the fingers of some calamity, Somebody foolish enough to love her foolishly. Those who could hear No musicweren’t listening—and when I say it, it’s like claiming She’s an elegy. It rhymes, because of her, with effigy. Because of her, If there is no smoke, there is no party. I think of you, Miss Calamity, Every Sunday. I think of you on Monday. I think of you hurling hurt Where the moon should be and stomping into our darkness calmly. This is language that feels effortless, trips off the tongue, plays with form, inverses meaning, pulses with rhythm, and reminds me why I am a reader. – K
Extra, extra! Next month we’ll be reading Outline by Rachel Cusk. Join the crü by reading along with us + sending us your best photo of the book in the wild (a “shelfie,” if you will) for a chance to be featured in next month’s issue! 
Down the Rabbit Hole: This week’s Rabbit Hole is all about ladyfriendships. This past month it feels like everyone is writing about them (maybe because Broad City & Girls just started up again?). I began on The Rumpus, with this piece by Gila Lyons entitled “Female Friendships and Online Literary Sexism,” which opens by referring to an article by Kim Brooks called “I’m Having a Friendship Affair.” Ada Calhoun chimes in on a related subject with her piece in NYMag, “The Secret to Staying Friends in Your 30s.” Then there’s the crazy coincidence of an Atlantic article about platonic romantic comedies (which my sister & I have named “platon-coms,” a phrase that has yet to catch on, so please use it, it’s so fetch). Our fave writerlady Ann Friedman chimed in on the Broad City conversation with her piece in The Guardian about how that show speaks to her world, and then my sister sent me this article by Briallen Hopper about how relying on friends as your main relationship can be quite the fraught affair.  And on that note, I’ll go and try to read something about dude friendships this month. – T
Here’s a Poem: Not surprisingly, I wrote a poem this month about ladyfriendships, called “We Live In Girl Town.” Do you live there, too?! – T
LIT LIST!: A new Read Literately category. It’s fresh, it’s pithy, and it lists something literary in no particular order.
Nine Great Bookish Instagram Accounts to Follow:
@lastnightsreading: I’ve gushed about Kate Gavino’s illustrations before, but if you’re not following her, you’re missing out.
@subwaybookreview: Black and white photos taken of subway travelers and their trusty companions: books.
@bibliofeed: Daily recommendations of books shared by different weekly contributors.
@girlsatlibrary: Who can say no to portraits of fabulous women reading?
@parisreview: Snippets of poems, interviews, illustrations, and covers from past issues.
@hotdudesreading: Come for the photos, stay for the captions.
@book_market: For the intrepid buyer or seller of books, this account is one to watch, especially if you’re interested in books that are a little off the beaten path (The Manly Art of Knitting is an amazing recent acquisition of mine).
@tinybookreviews: Self-explanatory, but the photos are beautiful and the books are varied. A great account to follow if you need inspiration for your next read.
@bestbookgrams: This account is similar to @tinybookreviews, but this one focuses mainly on new releases, so you can be sure to stay in the know.
Plus! @personalpractice: Not in the least bit literary, but oh so enjoyable. Don’t say I never did anything for you. – K
Word up: We fully support all words that are made up of two food words put together.
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readliterately · 8 years
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We Live In Girl Town by Taylor Mardis Katz
In Girl Town we smoke herbal cigarettes and don’t laugh at each other’s fear of needles which has left us untattooed. We shop at the market nearest to our homes, we do our best to buy the healthy crackers and not the pricey tapenades that call our names like Sirens. We wear Diva Cups, or we don’t; we loan each other underwear, lipstick, ankle boots, the books we found on just the day we needed them. Some of us can pull off rompers & some can pull off patterned turtlenecks and when it’s lunch, we’ll pass along a sandwich so everyone can have a bite. We no longer try to make our hair be something that it’s not. We’re over that. It’s true we might not shave in winter but the type of men we live with understand our cycles and our seasons. Our houses hold the gifts we give each other on the mantle place: treasures stacked adjacent to the other pretty bits collected on our journeys. We know how to pay our bills & how to cook a bird but we’re not experts: when it rains there’s an equal chance we’ll crack open an umbrella like a cool, collected queen or run in horror to the nearest underpass. We’re blue some Sundays, exultant others; we don’t say we’ll sleep when we’re dead because we like sleeping now, the way the bed is like a throne where all matters can be fixed or fucked or nuzzled into. We pay our taxes and we vote when we remember because we’re citizens that way. We listen to each other in the manner of a chickadee, the bird who doesn’t leave in winter, who stays & sticks it out, who can recognize the faintest whiff of spring.
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