Lucky Us!
Dear and gentle readers, we (here in Lincoln) will soon be graced by a visit from the lovely and amazing poet Camille Dungy, author of two books and editor of two more. Mark your calendar, Star City Sceners:
Thursday, February 4
3:30-5:00 p.m.
"Editing Black Nature"
Bailey Library, Andrews Hall, UNL
and later that evening,
7:00 p.m.--Camille's inaugural reading from her brand-new collection, Suck on the Marrow
Bailey Library, Andrews Hall, UNL.
Her edited anthology Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry, is especially exciting for anyone who's noticed that nature-writing anthologies tend to be not only green but white. (Seriously. Scan your collections' TOCs now.) At the 3:30 presentation, she'll talk about the process of gathering the poems and shepherding the book through the editing process at University of Georgia Press.
At 7:00 p.m., she'll read from her own work--particularly her new book Suck on the Marrow, a collection rooted in 19th-century history, which Natasha Trethewey calls "[p]lainspoken and unflinching," marked by "restraint and wry wit." She'll then be happy to chat and sign books, which will be available for purchase after the reading.
I first heard Camille read in 2004 at the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference. She was a Bread Loaf Scholar, and of course all the Scholars are solid, but when Camille began to read, the air in the Little Theater hushed. Folks didn't even cough. The poems--and her riveting delivery--were knockout. I can't wait to hear her read from her new book. (And I can't believe she's gotten 4 books into print since then! Makes me feel laaazy.)
It's going to be an honor and a pleasure to have her here. And readers, I happen to know happy news: she's pregnant! So there'll be no wining with our dining, but we do intend to have fun.
On the home front, James and I are now cosily ensconced in our new place--which feels, after two and a half years in a smaller apartment, practically palatial. Its sweeping vistas of 1082 square feet and its blank white walls seem all Dr. Zhivagoesque to me--you know, those wide snowy plains with the tiny troika gliding along?
Now, as I've mentioned, the floors are bare, unfinished concrete, so it has roughly the ambience of a parking garage, and the appliances are from the 1970s. (The refrigerator shelves proudly proclaim "Spacemaker Door," as if it's a radical new invention, and the scary microwave has more knobs and dials than a cockpit.) Since we haven't been able to paint yet, the plaster from the refinished (popcorn-be-gone) ceiling sifts down in a fine white dust, coating everything.
But it's home, and it's ours, and we're happy.
Many thanks to Sandra and Cindy for their recent notes of encouragement and congratulations; to Ingrid and Douglas for the bread and salt, which is an old German custom of housewarming; and to Susan and Linck for the wine. We hope to be having some of y'all over soon.
Thursday, February 4
3:30-5:00 p.m.
"Editing Black Nature"
Bailey Library, Andrews Hall, UNL
and later that evening,
7:00 p.m.--Camille's inaugural reading from her brand-new collection, Suck on the Marrow
Bailey Library, Andrews Hall, UNL.
Her edited anthology Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry, is especially exciting for anyone who's noticed that nature-writing anthologies tend to be not only green but white. (Seriously. Scan your collections' TOCs now.) At the 3:30 presentation, she'll talk about the process of gathering the poems and shepherding the book through the editing process at University of Georgia Press.
At 7:00 p.m., she'll read from her own work--particularly her new book Suck on the Marrow, a collection rooted in 19th-century history, which Natasha Trethewey calls "[p]lainspoken and unflinching," marked by "restraint and wry wit." She'll then be happy to chat and sign books, which will be available for purchase after the reading.I first heard Camille read in 2004 at the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference. She was a Bread Loaf Scholar, and of course all the Scholars are solid, but when Camille began to read, the air in the Little Theater hushed. Folks didn't even cough. The poems--and her riveting delivery--were knockout. I can't wait to hear her read from her new book. (And I can't believe she's gotten 4 books into print since then! Makes me feel laaazy.)
It's going to be an honor and a pleasure to have her here. And readers, I happen to know happy news: she's pregnant! So there'll be no wining with our dining, but we do intend to have fun.
On the home front, James and I are now cosily ensconced in our new place--which feels, after two and a half years in a smaller apartment, practically palatial. Its sweeping vistas of 1082 square feet and its blank white walls seem all Dr. Zhivagoesque to me--you know, those wide snowy plains with the tiny troika gliding along?
Now, as I've mentioned, the floors are bare, unfinished concrete, so it has roughly the ambience of a parking garage, and the appliances are from the 1970s. (The refrigerator shelves proudly proclaim "Spacemaker Door," as if it's a radical new invention, and the scary microwave has more knobs and dials than a cockpit.) Since we haven't been able to paint yet, the plaster from the refinished (popcorn-be-gone) ceiling sifts down in a fine white dust, coating everything.
But it's home, and it's ours, and we're happy.
Many thanks to Sandra and Cindy for their recent notes of encouragement and congratulations; to Ingrid and Douglas for the bread and salt, which is an old German custom of housewarming; and to Susan and Linck for the wine. We hope to be having some of y'all over soon.
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