CHICAGO REVIEW最新文献

{"title":"Chicago Review Article","authors":"Stan Brakhage","doi":"10.2307/25304801","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/25304801","url":null,"abstract":"There are many living poets who inspire my life, whose work I enjoy as a regularity in my living, but there are three, right now, who contribute directly to my filmmaking as powerfully as Pound, Stein, Olson, Creeley, Dorn when I was young (*) (as powerfully as \"the ancients\" of the craft whose poems form a basis for my, and everyone else's, English-language being): these three today are Michael McClure, Ronald Johnson, and Lisa Jarnot. McClure's aesthetic evolution has, since the friendship in our early twenties, always seemed consonant with mine--i.e., his words worn as if \"on the sleeve\" of his physical being (much as I see my filmed images as extensions of my optic system, and then later my whole body as mentor to that system. Finally now the medium itself, the muse, as it were, becomes outlet for my nerve system's most hidden sparking innards). McClure always, and more and more as he grows older, gives his reader access to the verbal impulses of his whole body's thought (as distinct from simply and only brain-think, as it is with most who write). He invents a form for these cellular messages of his, a form which will feel as if it were organic on the page; and he sticks with it across his life \"like a solid moving through an inferno.\" I too stick with the given window of film, the slightly variable rectangle of film's-frame; and I (however much I admire D. W. Griffith's varieties of frames) adhere to that widening beam of projector ligh t and its rectangle of eye's composed feed-back--this \"the stage\" for sharing the anomalies of my visual privacy... (only exception, the Purgation sequence of The Dante Quartet, in cinemascope for its \"widening gyre\" of transformation, as Yeats would have it): and my display of visions (like Michael's enverbaled vision) come to the film window (\"the page\"?) directly from my physical self, the rhythms and tones of my biological response, my very breath and organic breadth of being. Few poets have managed to complete an epic poem in our Time: Pound's Cantos are left undone, trailing off in a ragged stitch of lines more emblematic of the social Times of their post-WW II writing then integrally related to the whole poem; Olson also leaves a lovely \"garland,\" as it were, of variants upon the themes of Maximus Dr. W. C. Williams also veering off Patterson into the variant greatness of Desert Music; H. D. coming-to-rest but not to a thematic conclusion of Helen In Egypt. The only completed epic poetics of the twentieth century I personally accept-as-such are those of Louis Zukofsky, his \"A\", Gertrude Stein, her Stanzas in Meditation, possibly completed, although one wonders (in the light of Ulla Dydo's monumental research) if the terrible quarrel between Alice Toklas and Gertrude didn't shift the poem radically away from its pristine linguistic beginnings into the more narrative drama of their irresolvable argument. Finally, for me then, we have Ronald Johnson's ARK, miraculously finished a couple years before his d","PeriodicalId":42508,"journal":{"name":"CHICAGO REVIEW","volume":"47 1","pages":"38"},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2001-12-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/25304801","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"69013187","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Geometric versus Meat-Ineffable (1994)","authors":"Stan Brakhage","doi":"10.2307/25304803","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/25304803","url":null,"abstract":"From \"time...en dit\" There are two pictorial extremes of human thought process--The Geometric and (what I like to call) Meat-ineffable...no \"the\" before \"Meat\"--inasmuch as raw cells are such a diversity of impulse as to defy hierarchy. To be sure, it is such diversity-of-cells' electrical arcing which hatches The Geometric also, but it does so in spite of the originating cell structure irregularities--as an act-of-spark, I'd guess, or rather in organized emulation of the energies of their synapse process...as an Ideal, so to speak, of the \"straight\" energetic snap-line between two cells, the triangle between three, square four, soforth on up the scale of \"hedrons\" until a \"circle\" can be inferred. It is all (i.e. Geometrical Thought) inferred, inasmuch as meat energies move in waves, as pulse: but the inference is intrinsic to Humans, existing only in Nature where Humans are-as anyone knows who has flown over wilderness and then, from an airplane window, spotted the beginning of Farm or Town. The so-called geometrics of the bee-hive, or of the flies' eyes, are (upon closer inspection) mere approximates of such as the Human Mind imagines--and then \"reads into\" the microcosms of Nature--as are the idealized circles of suns, the rectangles of rock formation, or those fractured symmetries of the Crystalline so prized by humans, all approximations of The Geometrical Mind (including Towns and Farms) which when presented to human sensibility are prized simply because the imaging of them (through the viscous meaty orbs of human receptivity) is more easily absorbed as corollary of a mental ideal than, say, the ordinarily overwhelming multiplicity of most of Nature's irregularly globular and disjunctly fretted entanglementof-curves impinging (via radiant waves) upon the senses. The Human Mind has fashioned its Ideal in despite and despising of its self's pulp of animal being-an ordering at the expense of cell's self...a bureaucracy of...a veritable facism of...sense's sense of self. Language is but an offspring of this mode-of-thought, for all words are but signs evolved from, and implicit in, the geometries of thinking. Contrarily, and as an antidote to the rigidities of The Geometric, Meat-ineffable is that steady inclination of the brain to mimeticize its intrinsically variable shapes as visible manifestations resistant to either name or category but true (in its variability, to begin with) to the very organic mode (as distinct from process) of its own existence. Whether there are, or are not, straight lines in Nature is beside the point: we are too viscous to receive them as such...thus they must, if that IS The Ideal, be invented by thought. Words are, at scratch, but a glyphic extension of Geometric thought inasmuch as words can be seen as signs which (certainly as hieroglyphs) abstract the phenomenological input of the visible world. These signifiers later evolve to make oblique reference to ear's intake, as the tongue is given further (and more ab","PeriodicalId":42508,"journal":{"name":"CHICAGO REVIEW","volume":"47 1","pages":"47"},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2001-12-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/25304803","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"69013202","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Tales of the Tribes","authors":"P. A. Sitney","doi":"10.2307/25304809","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/25304809","url":null,"abstract":"Introducing Andrei Tarkovsky to an audience at the 1983 Telluride Film Festival, Stan Brakhage declared: I personally think that the three greatest tasks for film in the 20th century are 1) To make the epic, that is, to tell the tales of the tribes of the world. 2) To keep it personal, because only in the eccentricities of our personal lives do we have any chance at the truth. 3) To do the dream work, that is to illuminate the borders of the unconscious. (1) Although he praised Tarkovsky as \"the greatest living narrative film maker\" and the only one who \"does all these three things equally in every film he makes,\" Brakhage seems to have been acclaiming Tarkovsky for independently replicating his own agenda, most obviously in the requirements for personal filmmaking and explorations of \"the dream work.\" In the nearly twenty years since he made that introduction, Brakhage has accelerated his own version of affirming the \"tales of the tribe\": Anazazi Indians, Dante, Marlowe, Goethe, Novalis, Stephen Foster, D. H. Lawrence, Plato, Rilke, Mann, and Stein have been evoked in the titles and themes of various films. An even more revelatory catachresis of the words \"telling\" and \"tales\"--implicitly acknowledged by Brakhage's use of quotation marks--appeared in a theoretical text of 1993: Some ur-consciousness also then must be inferred--each cell both shaper and carrier of every spark struck from and through it, affected by each impulse-backlash and in synaptical montage with each previous and following impulse: the whole organism feeding its varieties-of-fire into this interplay between brain and eye, as finally each cell of the foetal body can be intuited to be \"telling\" its \"story\" interactive with every other cell's story throughout the developing body, over-ridden by some entirety of rhythming light (as every individual heart-cell is conjoined to the dominating beat of each heart-part's over-riding beat) in the conglomerate rhythm of the whole heat-light of any given organ...of which each cell is a radical part compromised by every other cell's variable interaction, all contributory to the organic \"tales\" of these cells in concert. (2) Through an ironic loop in the history of avant-garde film theory, here Brakhage offers, in 1993, a physiological phantasmagoria in justification of what Hollis Frampton once facetiously called \"Brakhage's Theorem\" (1972)--that all films are narrative. More narrowly conceived, the Biblical and Classical tales of the tribes have been elliptically retold in Brakhage's films, off and on, since the 1950s: Oedipus (The Way to Shadow Garden [1954]), The Descent to the Underworld (The Dead [1960], Dante's Styx [1975]) The Sinai theophany (Blue Moses [1962]), Apocalypse (Oh Life, a Woe Story, The A Test News [1963]), Genesis (Creation [1979]), The Fall (The Machine of Eden [1970], The Animals of Eden and After [1970]), The Vision of Isaiah (The Peaceable Kingdom [1971]), The Afterlife and Orpheus (The Dante Quartet [1987]), and","PeriodicalId":42508,"journal":{"name":"CHICAGO REVIEW","volume":"47 1","pages":"97"},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2001-12-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/25304809","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"69013253","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Autoinhibition of mixed lineage kinase 3 through its Src homology 3 domain.","authors":"H Zhang, K A Gallo","doi":"10.1074/jbc.M107176200","DOIUrl":"10.1074/jbc.M107176200","url":null,"abstract":"<p><p>Mixed lineage kinase 3 (MLK3) is a serine/threonine protein kinase that functions as a mitogen-activated protein kinase kinase kinase to activate the c-Jun NH(2)-terminal kinase pathway. MLK3 has also been implicated as an I kappa B kinase kinase in the activation of NF-kappa B. Amino-terminal to its catalytic domain, MLK3 contains a Src homology 3 (SH3) domain. SH3 domains harbor three highly conserved aromatic amino acids that are important for ligand binding. In this study, we mutated one of these corresponding residues within MLK3 to deliberately disrupt the function of its SH3 domain. This SH3-defective mutant of MLK3 exhibited increased catalytic activity compared with wild type MLK3 suggesting that the SH3 domain negatively regulates MLK3 activity. We report herein that the SH3 domain of MLK3 interacts with full-length MLK3, and we have mapped the site of interaction to a region between the zipper and the Cdc42/Rac interactive binding motif. Interestingly, the SH3-binding region contains not a proline-rich sequence but, rather, a single proline residue. Mutation of this sole proline abrogates SH3 binding and increases MLK3 catalytic activity. Taken together, these data demonstrate that MLK3 is autoinhibited through its SH3 domain. The critical proline residue in the SH3-binding site of MLK3 is conserved in the closely related family members, MLK1 and MLK2, suggesting a common autoinhibitory mechanism among these kinases. Our study has revealed the first example of SH3 domain-mediated autoinhibition of a serine/threonine kinase and provides insight into the regulation of the mixed lineage family of protein kinases.</p>","PeriodicalId":42508,"journal":{"name":"CHICAGO REVIEW","volume":"40 1","pages":"45598-603"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2001-12-07","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.1074/jbc.M107176200","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"91015017","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"The Precision We Need Is of Another Earth","authors":"Sarah Manguso","doi":"10.2307/25304780","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/25304780","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":42508,"journal":{"name":"CHICAGO REVIEW","volume":"47 1","pages":"94"},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2001-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/25304780","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"69013535","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Deal Me Jacks or Better","authors":"J. Kudritzki","doi":"10.2307/25304785","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/25304785","url":null,"abstract":"She was alone, in the passenger's seat, with the windows up, her face screened behind a manila folder spread open like a newspaper. Her station wagon was dark and foreign, running in one low arc from bumper to bumper. The tires were wide with a low profile. Epaulettes and effects of polished aluminum decorated the fenders and doors. The interior was like shade: neither blue nor black. Clarke became nervous at the door of her car. When he rapped on the window, she shook the folder in irritation. Her husband wasn't standing by the filling pumps or in the hard plastic chairs of the cramped waiting room. Clarke rapped again. The folder remained raised. He said, \"I'll drive your car into the shop for your test. But I need your consent.\" \"Yes.\" Before gripping the door handle, Clarke donned latex gloves from the breast pocket of his coveralls. The console signaled and sounded when he opened the door. As he placed paper gaskets on the seat and floorboards, she spoke, \"Do I have to get out?\" \"No.\" It was twenty after four. The station wagon was sitting sleek in the garage. It was the last car of the day. He could stretch out the inspection until five. Clarke stopped around the back of the station to smoke. He squatted with his back against the building; his coveralls bunched at the waist and clutched the knees. He was short and narrow with closely cropped hair above a brown, unruly beard. Sunglasses with polarized lenses straddled the crown of his head. Slunk beneath a long, garrisoning line of eucalyptus trees, the filling station served both Ostler's Valley and Kettle City. To one side, the huddled shops of Ostler's Valley, including a grocery. Then the road swayed, ascending into the close, wooded hills, the houses and parochial school stationed in the redwood and acacia groves. The windows of Ostler's Valley reflected the spread of flat ground-beyond the gas station-that supported Kettle City. In the distance, the fog dumped onto its long, drab apartment buildings. Their flesh-toned walls appeared tawny beneath dark, tarred roofs. Closer, the public school was just getting the hoary wisps. The adjacent sanitation depot was still in sunshine. Then, a quarter mile of thin two-lane road split a run of open earth and gave access back to the gas station, Clarke against the back wall. The brief back lot was spread with eucalyptus leaves, some blackened in spots of spilled lubricants or fuels. The trees above were limber in the wind. He keyed up the computer and slipped the sniffer-sensor into the tailpipe. He entered the car, leaving one boot on the ground. He turned: hair tightly fixed to her head, gray eyes, no earrings, evenly-- tanned skin that was dark about the knees and elbows. He tried to start it. Nothing. He checked the gearshift. He tried it again. He removed the key and reinserted it. As he started to exit the car, she laughed. \"The door has to be shut for it to start.\" Clarke, further flushed, felt himself forcing the easy action of the igniti","PeriodicalId":42508,"journal":{"name":"CHICAGO REVIEW","volume":"47 1","pages":"114"},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2001-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/25304785","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"69013591","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Rocks on a Platter: Notes on Literature","authors":"Catherine L. Kasper, Barbara H Guest","doi":"10.2307/25304789","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/25304789","url":null,"abstract":"Barbara Guest. Rocks on a Platter: Notes on Literature. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 1999. Rocks on a Platter contains some of Barbara Guest's most obscure and compelling lines since Defensive Rapture (1993). It has been interpreted by other reviewers as one long poem that examines the \"implacable poet\" as subject and vector in the process of creative production. While that may be the case, these poems are also literally \"notes\" on literature, as its subtitle suggests. The book can be seen as Guest's own jottings in response to her inspiring and eclectic research, with texts dissected and arranged to become poetic objects resonating as in a still-life painting. Guest was one of the central members of the New York School, though David Lehman (in The Last Avant-Garde) omits her in favor of an unnecessarily reductive, masculine view of the group. It could be argued that Guest's work, and perhaps Guest herself, is more radically individual, and less easily summarized. Canonical practices have typically excluded such writers in favor of more homogenous categorization. While this tendency has long been under critical scrutiny, the practice of dropping particularly influential, but often more clairvoyant poets from critical schema persists (see, for instance Alan Kaufman's omission of Edward Dorn and his connections to Black Mountain and the Beats from The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry). But what critics fail to recognize or like to forget is how different kinds of poets still speak to each other, still have friendships and discussions that are crucial to artistic germination whether or not they share the same aesthetics. The best poetry demonstrates this kind of complex engagement with different kinds of poetry and with a greater, interdisciplinary community. Most recently, Guest's work has been noted as one of the foundational influences for what could be considered a feminist \"wing\" of postL=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poets such as Kathleen Fraser, Brenda Hillman, Meimei Berssenbrugge, Lisa Jarnot, Juliana Spahr, and Jena Osman. Intrinsic to the New York School's poetics was a fundamental crossfertilization with the visual arts. Painters such as Motherwell, Freilicher, and Rivers were just a few of those whose work and ideas coalesced with those of the poets. Frank O'Hara worked at MOMA and Ashbery worked as an art critic, as did Guest. Her own work often achieves a kind of poetic equivalent to Abstract Expressionism, forcing the literary critic to work with the vocabulary of the art critic: abstraction replaces representation, patina replaces simple imagery, chiaroscuro, diction. Her poetry reveals a primacy of page as \"canvas\" that draws from modernist sources, yet achieves a texture which is distinctly postmodern in its absence of a central, controlling ego. That Guest is the artist of the collage on the cover of Rocks on a Platter confirms that her close relationship to the visual arts and to artists is one of the fertile resources of her w","PeriodicalId":42508,"journal":{"name":"CHICAGO REVIEW","volume":"47 1","pages":"145"},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2001-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/25304789","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"69013597","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Pine Box [Vamped]","authors":"Ray Di Palma","doi":"10.2307/25304778","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/25304778","url":null,"abstract":"I know where I'm going I just don't have the address. Here's the key. Take the car and drive to the end of the block. Do you want me to shoot someone or build you a house? Aromatic wood was burning in the cast iron brazier by the side of the pool. He ran in and out of the shadows for almost a mile then gave up and jumped on a bus. I feel like some music. Does the radio work? I'm going to smoke a cigarette. Never mind where we're going. Just keep your eyes on the road. They cut him good and deep. Just below the ribs on his left side. When he smiled a line of blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Behind the door a small audience was applauding the recitation of an old song. He ran his fingers through the thick blonde hair on the back of his head. Where was the melody? He didn't want to keep his friends waiting any longer. Thick smoke rises into the veil of lavender that lingers from the previous fire. A ghost and an angel define the shadows by dancing along the cracks in the ceiling. The tricks of the trade for the names of the streets. A failed substitution. Private details of a discarded world. I recognize the proof in the dissolve. Palimpsest- written between January 26th and March 16th. Letters: composed between March 16th and April 21 st. Codicil: translated with J. on April 25th. The 31 Sequels: begun on April 26th. Plan for Pond 4: translated with J. on April 30th. The complexity built from something more to add to the lion's mouth. [May 2nd] 1, 2,4,5, 6 ... they forgot Wednesday. But the calendar makers were shrewd. By also omitting the following Saturday the month realized its proper resolution. Two omissions = 1 heads blindly for 31. Made to be a loss and then another made right. Ptolemy, Copernicus, Kepler and Galileo. The gloom still clings to the approaching light that fills the missing days. The continuous. The metropolitan. The first letter to the second letter and on to the last letter. T to H. From H to T The days, weeks, months pass. T to H. From T to H. Second initiative, second front. Before the E eleven people are engulfed by the snow never to be seen again. You alone survive. Arriving here with me. Distikhos. Beeswing. Reverie is the second codicil and the fifth project. Died back into the provided page. Countenance shuffled. Pared away. Orogeny (the last word of the evening): a walk in the woods, a blank sheet of paper, swollen ankles, Mozart and a glass of wine. …","PeriodicalId":42508,"journal":{"name":"CHICAGO REVIEW","volume":"19 1","pages":"89"},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2001-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/25304778","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"69013524","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Three Postcards from Turkiye","authors":"J. Lowe","doi":"10.2307/25304781","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/25304781","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":42508,"journal":{"name":"CHICAGO REVIEW","volume":"47 1","pages":"96"},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2001-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/25304781","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"69013541","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Journeys to Six Lands","authors":"H. Mathews","doi":"10.2307/25304762","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/25304762","url":null,"abstract":"1 Out of droning Bayonne at five, sun silhouetting a Buddha on the city's one shrine. We had fashioned a mast for our hull from a stout pine that we felled and lopped in the dark, amid much blasphemy. By lantern light we saw what some nimble climber had long ago carved in its fork, \"I before he except after she\"-weird words leading to argument over what they might portend. Once the mast was stepped and braced with stays, we raised our sails with halyards we had braided out of rawhide. There is a tear in the leech of our mainsail. We glided down the river between zones of industrial waste. Only a few indifferent gulls watched us leave. It is after all a poor, deserted place. Tiers of mussels ringed the pilings of abandoned wharves in the lowering tide. There is an inexplicable tear in the leech of the mainsail. We were bound for home-a home that we had forgotten or never seen. 2 Standing away north from the coast, the wind sitting east-northeast, a harsh quarter-we could do nothing but drive, scudding away as we bore against it, mast sloping, bow dipping. We had no true officers but encouraged each other to stand to the tackle, stretch on the oars, contract the luffing sails, everything a struggle, with the sea swirling and hawling inboard, in a shrilling of stays and halyards. We forgot the new old world we longed for. We had taken a priest named Dory on board; he now passed among us, intoning the opening words of the fifty-first psalm and raising crossed sticks over each of us as he did so in a kind of infernal blessing. Such a handsome man, young, light-hearted, not a drowning mark on him, master of men and of women, too! He was to enrapture all our loveliest in turn. Even now, in those endragoned seas, he took Dominique into the dark below the leaking cabin decking. At one moment the waves rose from such a depth I saw the floor of the sea: lobsters five feet long and scurrying crabs with glowing eyes. Later, the sky seemed boundless, full of fierce stars. 3 We drifted into a stinking fog, thick with what felt like soot. The killersqualls had passed on-one man and a boy washed overboard. The mainsail was tattered; half the snap hooks on the jib would not close; all our circuits were broken. The sails for now were of no use anyway: not a breath of wind. We worked hard at our oars though with heavy hearts, like men going to execution. (It seems our sweat made the ladies hot-it was Gloria's impatient turn with Dory today.) The water felt thick with ooze, with something like clay. We dreaded running aground in the dark. Next to the steersman, whose face gleamed white by his lamp, a woman sat holding a frond wetted with vinegar, to slap him in case he nodded off. I looked up once and there stood the cook in his greasy girdle, not a sign of care on his filthy-bearded face as he shucked a bucket of mussels, tossing shells over our heads into the sad water. The place and time of our embarcation were already beyond any wish to remember them. 4 Was there","PeriodicalId":42508,"journal":{"name":"CHICAGO REVIEW","volume":"47 1","pages":"5"},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2001-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/25304762","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"69013323","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}