{"title":"The Poet as Cartographer","authors":"E. Ethelbert Miller","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913421","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913421","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> The Poet as Cartographer <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> E. Ethelbert Miller (bio) </li> </ul> <p>During a recorded Zoom conversation with Miho Kinnas, a Japanese poet and translator, I found myself thinking about why we had begun collaborating on writing poems together. Was this the result of a pandemic hangover? Had we become addicted to the daily exchanging of emails and the discussion of the work by Chilean novelists? What brings writers together when they step outside workshops and cafés? What is the relationship between collaboration and community organizing? What does it mean to share lines and stanzas of poems when walls are being constructed to keep migrants and refugees out? In our poem \"One of Us Is Missing\" Miho and I write:</p> <blockquote> <p><span>I no longer know where I am going.</span><span>I should sell my shoes for food.</span><span>I cannot find a map.</span></p> </blockquote> <p>I've always been curious about the cartography of collaboration. How does one follow another without a map? Which tends to bring me back to governmental policies adopted to deal with a crisis. How often does our leadership seem to be clueless or just lost? What is the connection between collaboration and democracy? What is the price of collaboration, and what must one sell to be successful?</p> <p>Once when I wrote to Miho and told her I missed her, she responded back that she didn't know she was missing. I chuckled after she told me this, but reflecting on her comments much later, her response seemed to summarize the poem \"One of Us Is Missing.\" We began the second stanza of the poem with this intriguing line:</p> <blockquote> <p><span>How will I survive without the others?</span></p> </blockquote> <p>So much is broken in today's world. War shatters peace. People become scattered pieces. There is a longing to connect, to return home, or to discover new homes. The invention of self is performance art. Every narrative is a <strong>[End Page 89]</strong> potential passport into newness and a conversation with oneself or another. Miho and I used the term \"twoness\" to describe what we were doing. We started exchanging lines back and forth by email. Since our work is very different in style and tone, Miho described our collaboration as improvisational while I considered it to be more call-and-response. I found our exchanges spiritual and, at times, having a Zen quality. But how does one construct a poem together? How does one build a shelter or home? What are the politics of collaboration? Is it shaped by form or content? Do we need a map to help us explore? I believe there might be four levels required for collaboration:</p> <blockquote> <p>Intent</p> <p>Process</p> <p>Result</p> <p>Transformation</p> </blockquote> <p>Every collaboration has an origin story. Intent begins with desire. The wanting to create something new and different.","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"13 4","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-11-29","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"138512514","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"The Elasticity and Capaciousness of Classics","authors":"Barbara K. Gold","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913409","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913409","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> The Elasticity and Capaciousness of Classics <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Barbara K. Gold (bio) </li> </ul> <p>Perhaps the most amazing thing about Classics/Classical Studies/Greek and Roman Studies (whatever we want to call it—the jury is still out) is its elasticity; its ability—indeed its urgency—to reach out temporally, spatially, materially, semantically, theoretically; its inability to be confined to one theory, one subdiscipline, one approach; and its desire to constantly evolve and to become something else. Classicists in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries would barely recognize what Classics has become, and I suspect that the same will be true of classicists after us in the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth centuries.</p> <p>Every one of us has our own version of what Classics is, or ought to be. But as confirmed as we might be in our beliefs, those versions change along with our embeddedness in the culture. Classics used to mean philology and the study of Latin and Greek. It was heavily based in textual work, and any analysis of those texts was historical or philological. The American Philological Association was the major North American Classics organization for many years until it changed its name in 2014 to the Society for Classical Studies, a nod to the effort to broaden the scope and appeal of Classical Studies.</p> <p>I am going to engage in a brief autobiography here to show how much Classics has changed for me at least since I started studying it back in the 1960s and 1970s. I read my way through all the major (and some minor) Greek and Roman authors with little sense of asking any of the questions I would start with today (or of being allowed to ask such questions. One friend told me that when she tried to bring up a possible reference to rape in Greek tragedy, she was shut down). I realized after graduate school that I had taken courses in Greek tragedy without anyone highlighting the role of women. How is that possible? I read Roman satire without really thinking much about sexuality in satire. I read the elegists without thinking about the role of desire and the erotic in Propertius and Ovid. I did not read any literature from late antiquity, medieval times, or Christianity. While I got what was, I suppose, a good education in the basics, I realized later that what interests me <strong>[End Page 33]</strong> most now about these authors, texts, and cultural moments was almost entirely left out of my early connection with the classical world.</p> <p>Things began to change in the 1970s (at least for me), largely because of the founding of the Women's Classical Caucus in 1972 (fifty years ago) and the increased presence of bright, powerful women who paved the way for the exciting feminist scholarship that began to see the light. Journals like <em>Helios</em> and <em>Arethusa</em> were publishing nontrad","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"6 2","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-11-29","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"138526953","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Charles W. Mills: The Self-Incurred Ignorance of White Philosophy","authors":"G. Yancy","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913438","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913438","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"121 1","pages":"173 - 179"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"139345461","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Marxism and Spatiality","authors":"R. Tally","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913431","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913431","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"46 1","pages":"137 - 141"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"139343697","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"This Insubstantial Pageant by Estha Weiner (review)","authors":"N. G. Haiduck","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a913426","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a913426","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"48 1","pages":"116 - 119"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2023-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"139345760","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"An Interview with Matt Madden","authors":"Frederick Luis Aldama","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a906493","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a906493","url":null,"abstract":"An Interview with Matt Madden Frederick Luis Aldama Educator, curator, editor, translator—all-around polymath—Matt Madden is also one of the most formally innovative and inspiring of our contemporary comics storytellers. From his first comics, such as Black Candy (1998) and Odds Off (2001), his best-selling and multi-translated 99 Ways to Tell a Story: Exercises in Style (2005) and his haiku comics to his latest Bridge (2021) and Ex Libris (2021), Madden brings an unparalleled precision of style and innovation to the comic storytelling arts. With every carefully inked line and panel configuration, he crafts stories that push the envelope on erstwhile thresholds of form and content. He awes his readers with his elevation of visual storytelling forms. He transports us into exquisite labyrinths of existential conundrums: truth and illusion, suffering and transcendence. Just as vanguardistas such as Jorge Luis Borges, Julio Cortázar, and more recently Giannini Braschi and Carmen María Machado are writer's writers, so too might we consider Madden a cartoonist's cartoonist, using the visual-verbal storytelling arts to create marvels of innovation and inspiration. His work challenges global comics creatives to up their game. We see in Madden's comics how his use of varied generative constraints leads to the crafting of stories that make new readers' perception, thought, and feeling about the known and enigmatic—the quotidian and transcendent. With Madden I think readily of Borges's \"The Aleph.\" Here Borges famously set himself the challenge of solving through fictional means the finite (human) encountering the infinite: how a human might perceive in a gestaltic instant everything in the universe from every angle simultaneously. Madden sets himself similarly seemingly impossible challenges that he not only solves through his dexterous visual-verbal storytelling expertise but does so in ways that lead to solutions to storytelling problems and the discovery of new storytelling techniques and forms. In addition to Madden's works already mentioned, he's also coauthor with [End Page 49] Jessica Abel of Drawing Words & Writing Pictures (2008) and Mastering Comics (2012). From 2008 to 2013 he was series editor with Jessica Abel of The Best American Comics. His illustration work has appeared in WIRED, The New Yorker, The New York Times, and The Wall Street Journal, among many other publications. Madden's translations of comics include Aristophanes's The Zabîme Sisters (2010), Edmond Baudoin's Piero (2018), and Blutch's Mitchum (2020). Not surprisingly, Madden's work has caught the attention of many around the world. He's the US correspondent of the French Oubapo, a comics movement in France linked to the Oulipo (Ouvroir de littérature potentielle) group. Exhibitions of his work have appeared in the United States, Spain, France, Switzerland, and Italy. Madden has been invited to teach courses and workshops around the world, including in France, Switzerland, Denma","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"86 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135144943","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Ire Land (a Faery Tale) by Elisabeth Sheffield (review)","authors":"Jane Rosenberg LaForge","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a906497","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a906497","url":null,"abstract":"Reviewed by: Ire Land (a Faery Tale) by Elisabeth Sheffield Jane Rosenberg LaForge (bio) IRE LAND (A FAERY TALE) Elisabeth Sheffield Spuyten Duyvil https://www.spuytenduyvil.net/ire-land.html 188 pages; Print, $18.00 Call it dumbing down, appealing to the lowest common denominator, or Disneyfication. For generations of American children, the land of enchantment has long since been drained of its subtleties, as the traditions of the Brothers Grimm and Charles Perrault, among others, have been sanitized for a querulous mass market. In technicolor, these tales of transformation—from rags to riches, from man to mammal and back again, from fish woman to silenced female—become mere recollections of a moral education. The protagonist must learn a lesson of humility or selflessness to earn the psychic or fiscal reward that is their due. The narrator of Elisabeth Sheffield's new novel, Ire Land (a Faery Tale), confronts this lack of nuance head-on during a ménage à trois in an Upstate New York hotel room. Having adjourned to the \"woodland paradise\" suite after a conference, the women's studies professor Sandra Dorn and her sex partners of the moment find themselves haunted by this essentially American reinvention: \"Maybe there was something provoking about that wallpaper with its Disneyfied forest scene, as if there cartoon critters peering through the trees,\" she says while divining what inspired the \"antic play of moist cavities and thrusting appendages\" that lasted for three days, until the waterbed broke. [End Page 72] Despite the fervency of her efforts, Dorn fails on this occasion, and others, to restore what has been lost by the homogenization of earthy folklore into an industry exercising a fraught cultural dominance. Whether she ever gets beyond the forces arrayed against her, or if the price she pays trying is too steep, will likely make for a diverting discussion on how any human being, particularly a woman of a certain age, can make meaning out of their life in the postmodern era. In the meantime, Sheffield delivers a frequently hilarious and finally heartbreaking dive into contested spaces in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. Much of this romp, which begins in western Colorado, jumps to New York City and parts north, and crosses back and forth into the (now) far reaches of the British Empire, centers on the female body—how it looks, or should look; who controls it, and for what purpose—but to reduce Ire Land to a story about gender is to ignore its fundamental criticism of the so-called binary world and the vicious divisions we struggle through in its wake. Though Dorn is ostensibly the novel's narrator and protagonist, Ire Land is an epistolary novel, the leavings of a daughter of Irish immigrants who has become unhoused, and possibly unhinged, as she records her final metamorphosis. She recalls beginning her adult life as a \"big ripe pimple of potential\" and is alternately referred to as a \"hag,\" a \"cutting edge bitch,\" a","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"175 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135144935","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Capricorn, Venus Descendant: 50 Poems of Pandemos, Karkinos, & Eros by Michael Joyce, and: Light in Its Common Place by Michael Joyce (review)","authors":"Daniel T. O'Hara","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a906510","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a906510","url":null,"abstract":"Reviewed by: Capricorn, Venus Descendant: 50 Poems of Pandemos, Karkinos, & Eros by Michael Joyce, and: Light in Its Common Place by Michael Joyce Daniel T. O'Hara (bio) CAPRICORN, VENUS DESCENDANT: 50 POEMS OF PANDEMOS, KARKINOS, & EROS Michael Joyce Broadstone Books https://www.broadstonebooks.com/shop/p/capricorn-venus-descendant-50-poems-of-pandemos-karkinos-eros 64 pages; Print, $22.50 LIGHT IN ITS COMMON PLACE Michael Joyce Broadstone Books https://www.broadstonebooks.com/shop/p/light-in-its-common-place-poems-by-michael-joyce 96 pages; Print, $22.50 In recent psychoanalytic theory, when revisiting Freud's later speculations on the death drive, the idea of unbinding the tangled bundles of erotic and destructive, even self-destructive impulses (and their memories and fantasies), is a way of talking about what happens in the cases of patients who succumb to their suicidal compulsions. When untangled by analysis, unbound by it, unless there is an object readily available toward which those destructive (or erotic) feelings can be directed, they turn immediately around on the self, with, in the former cases, too often tragic results. Imagine, if you will, the famous fort/da game invented by Freud's grandson Ernst for the times when his mother, Sophia, leaves him alone. Ernst in his crib ties a string to a toy and throws it over the side and reels it back in, saying as he does so what sounds like fort (there) and da (here). For a poet, disinvestment, unbinding impulses of an erotic or a destructive kind, can be a dangerous, delicate process. This is not to claim that Ernst ties the string [End Page 128] around his neck, changes the toy at its end to a heavy weight, and hangs himself in his crib, rather than suffer the periodic losses of his mother's presence. But as Olivia Laing, in The Trip to Echo Spring: On Writers and Drinking (2013), outlines it usefully in her chapter on John Berryman, his disinvestment in his parents, especially his father, informs and shapes his alcoholism definitively throughout his life, sacrificing himself even as his poetry rises to major status, especially in his personal epic, The Dream Songs (1969). Rossella Valdre's Psychoanalytic Reflections on the Freudian Death Drive: In Theory, the Clinic, and Art (2019) is the best guide to this recent theoretic development, which I single out as I find it most useful in reading the poems in Michael Joyce's both important and subtly disturbing volumes. Two poems, one from each of these volumes, can exemplify what I mean. \"North Wildwood\" is the first poem, from Light in Its Common Place. It adopts the commonplace tone of this volume, and its run-on syntax is typical of Joyce as it paints a beach scene at two a.m. of three brothers observing \"a lone crane,\" feeding \"amidst lapping waves,\" as \"false dawn traces a horizon beyond the blackness.\" The brothers, as they move along the boardwalk under the \"bright wand\" of the lighthouse, fall silent and disturb two lovers who are whi","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"21 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135144963","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"The Morning Line: A Writer's Odds","authors":"Jay Neugeboren","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a906486","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a906486","url":null,"abstract":"The Morning LineA Writer's Odds Jay Neugeboren (bio) By the time I was twenty-four years old, when I sold my first short story to the now defunct Colorado Review for ten dollars, I had accumulated, by my count, 576 rejections. I had also written seven unpublished novels. One cold winter morning, about six months before I received the good news from Colorado Review, and after a particularly disheartening series of rejections, I decided to wallpaper my one-room flat in Bloomington, Indiana, with my rejection slips. I read through them and sorted them out—the form letters to one side, the personal notes to the other—and arranged the slips and letters in stacks by size and color, after which I began taping and stapling them to the wall directly above my desk. In some perverse way, I believed these pieces of paper would prove to me that I was what I doubted most of all: a real writer. I would create a dazzling, ingeniously quilted patchwork made up of the words of those who were resisting me, and by having their words in front of me while I was writing, I would do them battle. I'll show the bastards! I screamed silently. I'll show them by writing stories and novels whose brilliance and power will be undeniable, and someday, when my work is published and praised, and these same editors, publishers, and magazines come around to solicit my fiction . . . To my surprise—I was, as ever, at least as naive as I was persistent—it took less than an hour of taping and stapling before I found myself falling into the blackest of depressions. I took all the rejection slips down and put them in the bottom drawer of my desk, and I brooded on my nonexistent literary career: I would never be published, and—an inevitable consequence—I would never be happy again. I did not, however, take down two sheets of paper that had been on the wall before my antic impulse took over—one that contained a quote by George Gissing I read each morning to encourage me to stay the course, and one on which, to keep track of submissions, I listed where my various books, stories, and articles were, and when I had sent them out. Then, one morning not long after I'd gotten out of the wallpapering business, when I was typing up a fresh list of what I had out on submission, and [End Page 18] after I'd typed the title of my most recently completed novel, the name of the publisher I'd sent it to, and the date on which I'd sent it out, I hit the tab key, let the cartridge slide to the left, and typed in odds—9,999 to 1. Then I typed in odds for each item, and when I got to the bottom of the page, under the column in which I'd posted odds, I listed a Best Bet, Long Shot, Hopeful, Sleeper, and Daily Double. To the left of these selections, in order to keep a running score of how my work was faring in the world, I typed in the words \"THEM\" vs. \"US.\" I've kept a scoreboard on a wall near my desk for the sixty years that have passed since then, and though the odds can fluctuate wildly from day to day, de","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"69 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135144964","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Carrying on in Cuneiform: An Interview with Kyle Schlesinger","authors":"Charles Alexander","doi":"10.1353/abr.2023.a906517","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/abr.2023.a906517","url":null,"abstract":"Carrying on in CuneiformAn Interview with Kyle Schlesinger Charles Alexander (bio) In previous columns I have explored some past practitioners of poetry and the printing and publishing arts, and wanted, now, to turn attention to some things happening at present, among printers, poets, and bookmakers, beginning with the profoundly thoughtful and innovative practice of the proprietor of Cuneiform Press, Kyle Schlesinger. Schlesinger has worked with poets and artists including Jim Dine, Gil Ott, Alistair Johnston, Trevor Winkfield, Ron Padgett, Johanna Drucker, Lisa Rogal, and many more. By \"has worked with\" I mean a range of practices, but mostly pushing toward, and often becoming, full collaborations. In his poetry, too, he has tended to collaborate with others, though his individual volumes, such as A New Kind of Country (Chax 2022), show his decidedly individual, independent, and bold practices in the arts of the word. His version/vision of the arts (and life) embodies uncertainty and poses questions. The last stanza of the title poem reads: Motion as a verbSound not a wordLike wild jasmineA long way hereWhich way is AmericaSound not a wordWhich way is America I posted a set of questions to Schlesinger about his work and about inhabiting the roles of poet, printer, and publisher. Or, in truth, I sent these questions to him and asked him to simply \"hang out\" in their spaces, and while doing so, write something in response. He did that, and more. Here are those questions and his responses. [End Page 158] 1. Metal, paper, ink—what do these elements have to do with your work, and with how you think about printing? Do they creep into your poetry, too? Metal, paper, and ink are the bedrock of civilization as we know it. Without the printing press, literacy would still be a privilege of the aristocracy alone. It is easy to forget that just a few hundred years ago a book was a rare, valuable, mysterious object. As a reader, writer, and printer, I am grateful to be a small part of that glorious tradition. Of course I've never been one to adhere to any particular purist lineage, nor am I interested in period pieces per se, but there is a reverence for words, materials, and their construction ingrained in me. As a poet I have an insatiable curiosity about the materials of writing, the embodiment of ideas. I'm interested in the tools poets used, artifacts and artifice. As a scholar, I need history to anchor literary theory, \"no ideas but in things,\" like Williams said. The practice of typography taught me an economy of language in my poems, which I get from Creeley and Dickinson as well. When I read a poem, I want to know all about the poet, printer, papermaker, artist, typographer, publisher, et cetera, to see the book as a unique form of collaboration, a sum far greater than a disembodied text. 2. I think you are self-taught as a printer/bookmaker. Is that true? Can you talk about your beginnings? What sparked you? What did you have in mind? What surprise","PeriodicalId":41337,"journal":{"name":"AMERICAN BOOK REVIEW","volume":"12 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135144965","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}