Sonnet from the tireless reader …

… Sonnet for Wednesday, November 20, 2024b>

Laughter …

… An approximation to God ...

And so it goes again

… My “bucket list” project resumes and continues

Let us pray …

Marilyn Monroe in Purgatory? TV Host Alleges Vision of Actress Suffering in Flames

A poem for today …

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Contentment …

… I live in my own world under my hat.

We can only hope …

Dozens of stars backed Harris’s campaign and yet she lost. Is the era of celebrity endorsements over?

Below this windowsill …

… Green blades grow pale and still

Ah, yes, I remember it well …

… Story of murder immortalized by musical trio in 1958.

A poem for today …

… Jane Hirshfield — Autumn.

Jon Fosse

 

I'll be the first to admit that I'd not heard of Jon Fosse until he was awarded the Nobel Prize. Of course, I was curious, and so I recently read Aliss at the Fire. 

Praise for the novella -- which has been positioned as an entry point into Fosse's larger oeuvre -- focuses on its fragmentation: the degree to which time itself becomes a malleable thing. Fosse abandons traditional grammar in favor of another sort of fragmentation: one in which sentences run indefinitely as time is presented a force without beginning or end. And then, of course, there's the complexity of Fosse's narration, which transitions from one character to another, often in the middle of a phrase or thought. 

Who am I to critique this approach? Fosse has won the Nobel after all. 

But I must say, I found the novella to be, well, to be sort of gimmicky: the shift in perspective, or narrative tone, or time is awakening at first, but becomes predictable by the end. And more: Fosse seems to bend the concept of time, but without building three dimensional characters. For me, there were elements of Stein and Faulkner here; and yet, I felt that both American authors explored these themes with greater effect: the layered quality to Faulkner's novels, in particular, far exceeds Aliss at the Fire. 

I agree that there is an emotional impact to Fosse's novella, and that he is able, in very few pages, to develop a competing sense of poignancy and pain. But for me, I was never quite convinced by the style: it seemed unnecessary or strained -- like a trick that would have better served as the basis for a thought experiment than for a published work of fiction.

Musical theater history …

… A smash success from the first night

Another poem …

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A poem for today …

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Tough times in NYC …

… 8,000 lay siege to northern end of Manhattan.

Let me live to my sad self hereafter kind …

… I cast for comfort I can no more get

In the beginning…

… Important approval after 16 months of debate

Nature’s first green …

Then leaf subsides to leaf

Breaking news …

… Newspaper identifies head of the rebellion.

Meanwhile

… For nine years in me it has waited

Sad …

Theodore Olson, RIP - The American Spectator | USA News and PoliticsThe American Spectator | USA News and Politics i am sure I met Ted and soent very afternoon chatting with him.

“To Any Reader” on the poet’s birthday …

… Another child, far, far away

Honor, duty, country …

… Army general’s final ‘walk’ at Tomb of the Unknowns

Rachel Cusk

 

I've now finished the third of Rachel Cusk's "Faye" novels, Transit. And let me say at the start: this novel, like the others in the trilogy, is excellent: I mean absolutely excellent. (I read the novels out of order.) 

Part of what I liked so much about Transit -- and Outline and Kudos -- is that it occupies a rare literary space: it auto-fiction without the narcissism. It is a book about questions: about how we pose them, and what we expect to hear or receive in response. 

If Cusk is the main character in this experiment, that seems secondary: because her role in the novel is primarily to listen, and to endow conversations -- as I've written on the blog before -- with a universal quality. That is magic of Cusk: her ability to transcend the banal, to mold it into something great, with a lesson to impart. 

What Transit is about exactly is not the point: you might say it is a novel about transitions, about spaces, about homes, about London, about loss. And all of these themes are indeed addressed. But they're explored less by way of character, and more by way of memory, discussion, and reconnection.

In Transit -- more than in Outline or Kudos -- Cusk orients her reader: she is in London; this is her builder; his name is X; he is this way or that. But now having read a few of Cusk's novel, I know that these details are less important than what the builder recounts to Cusk and how she structures those remembrances. This is a novel in which each section, each chapter, represents the transformation of the ordinary into something weighty, something transcendent.

It had been a while since a trilogy like this caught my attention, but these three novels are exceptional: they demand thought and reflection, and a new way -- it is no exaggeration -- of processing literature. 

We are the dead …

And now we lie in Flanders fields

Blogging note …

I am awaiting the arrival a nurse and may be taken to the hospital. So I may not be posting today.

Offered on the poet’s birthday …

… What art can wash her guilt away?

Not good …

THE HECK? Documents show FEMA official ordered workers to ignore houses with Trump signs | Not the Bee

Bless me now …

… Old age should burn and rave at close of day.

The power of. Imagination |

Zealotry of Guerin: Poetry and Fiction by Christopher Guerin: Bathers By A River (Henri Matisse), Sonnet #626

Philadelphia history worth celebrating …

… First library in America gets its start in Philadelphia.

Cosmic irony …

… Alexandrine lines on the loss of the “Titanic”

What to make of a diminished thing …

… And comes that other fall we name the fall,

Voting and reading …

… Trump makes history (and I offer a blogging note.

In case you wondered …

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For what it’s worth …

… everyone I spoke with today, wherher black or white, thought that Trump is going to win. they seemed quite sanguine about it. Well, we shall see.

See ya …

Love%20It%20Or%20Leave%20It%3A%20Once%20Again%2C%20the%20Left%20Threatens%20to%20Leave%20If%20Trump%20Wins%20%u2013%20PJ%20Media

The hazards of voting …

… Woman defies law by voting; then she is fined $100.

'They're Targeting Voters Under the Guise of a News Org': Inside a Soros-Funded 'Fake News' Network's $9 Million Digital Ad Blitz

'They're Targeting Voters Under the Guise of a News Org': Inside a Soros-Funded 'Fake News' Network's $9 Million Digital Ad Blitz They ought to deport Soros. The only thing he has done since coming here is try to undeermine our demoocracy. Throw the bum outl

Worth pondering …

Joe Rogan makes surprise endorsement on eve of Election Day | Blaze Media

“Not an interesting place”

…

Sending a message …

… Republican wins big with 489 electoral college votes

Today’s poem …

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A poem

Living With An Ogre My man's like living with an ogre I think: “Let's get romantic. I'll just make A candle out of some of my ear-wax.” It's laughable, that's just my take. I sit on the couch like a Chinese princess. He lumbers in, dick and beer in hand. He grabs me and throws me over his shoulder Yeah, well he's an ogreish kind of man. It's November, our pear tree has tiny little pears Its twisted branches are otherwise bare. It's like our love, there's nothing left But love's fruit hanging in the air. Jennifer Knox

The other day …

… I found myself in the L section of the dictionary

A poem …

Living With An Ogre My man's like living with an ogre I think: “Let's get romantic. I'll just make A candle out of some of my ear-wax.” It's laughable, that's just my take. I sit on the couch like a Chinese princess. He lumbers in, dick and beer in hand. He grabs me and throws me over his shoulder Yeah, well he's an ogreish kind of man. It's November, our pear tree has tiny little pears Its twisted branches are otherwise bare. It's like our love, there's nothing left But love's fruit hanging in the air. What will it be, my sweet daddy ogre? You don't love my poems, you're glad when they're over.

One bright morning in Chicago …

… Why that dude’s older than Cheerios

The sound of trees …

… I shall have less to say, but I shall be gone.

Verse on the range …

… Cowboy poetry: Using form: Doc Mehl, ‘Poems Used To Rhyme’ (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

One had to be versed in country things …

… For them there was really nothing sad

Now the eyes of my eyes are opened …

… i thank You God for most this amazing / day:

The complete Voca Me …

… Voca Me: A Poem in 72 Voices.

Finding a Bible in an abandoned cabin …

… Eight hundred words of perfect wordless lace

About those polls

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Dangerous liaison …

… POTUS pledges support for South Vietnam in 1954.

Reminder …

… Wedding bells and bucket list

The epistemology of loss …

… The Ball Poem by John Berryman.

Exactly why am I supposed to give a damn what Bill Maher thinks?

Bill Maher sent Democrats into a panic with this terrifying message to Kamala Harris - 247 Politics

Fondly remembered …

… Sonnet for George Burns and Gracie Allen

Learning from falling …

Falling is Not Failure, and Getting up is Not the Point - Front Porch Republic [Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

Today’s poem …

… Sarah Manguso — The Bear