Jupe’s poetry section of books
Today’s Writer’s Almanac points out that Kenneth Patchen was born on this date, as well as James Wright. I have no Wright sitting on my shelves, but a couple of Patchen volumes sit comfortably between Sylvia Plath and Dorothy Parker.
I pulled down Patchen to read but ultimately returned for a volume of Parker.
I think this might be a picture of the original slip jacked for my edition. But it looks like this:
My copy indicates it is a “twentieth printing.” I think this book also went into editions judging from the images I find on Google Search. Are they using the word, “edition,” for “printings” ? Probably. This first collection by Parker contains one of her famous poems.
I love the feel of this book. I love its thick paper and it’s clear font.
I know I have a copy of The Portable Dorothy Parker somewhere. But this slim beautiful little book is all that is currently in my poetry section. I’m afraid of disturbing my sleeping wife if I go up and rummage around in my fiction to see if the Portable Parker is up there. I’ll check later. In the meantime to the left of Parker is Ovid, but enough.
Eileen has been in the doldrums. Yesterday I convinced her to walk downtown with me and Christmas shop. This feels ironic, since I am the bigger Scrooge of the two of us.
I find it interesting that the election of Donald Trump has focused so many people in my life on the bad stuff in America. Certainly it is frightening to contemplate how badly President-elect Trump will hurt America. But, in my view, George W. Bush and Cheney did some irreparable harm a while back. And Trump didn’t invent white nationalism. White racism has held our Depart of Justice in its throes for decades.
I’m frightened. But when frightened, it seems to me that sharing fear not based in action is detrimental and one further step in the social media alienation from ourselves. So while I can listen to my hero, Taj Mahal, remind us that “Maaan if you ain’t scared, you aint right” and realize that he wrote these words when things didn’t seem as out of whack as now (at least for people like me…. safe, white, male, educated, or whatever), I still seek to shake the hysteria and anxiety I feel trying to well up in me.
I found a great recording of Taj Mahal yesterday riding around in the French Quarter of New Orleans and sounded and looking great!
Nevertheless, as I urged my upset chorister the other day when he was feeling so discombobulated, I turn to beauty and insight that I find in poetry, music, and ideas. This doesn’t change much, but helps me feel a bit more balanced as I observe and think about current events.
This looks great. I’ll have to see if I can find pomegranate molasses.
Ran across this nice little essay this morning.
I interlibrary loaned Peter Ackroyd’s book on Ezra Pound. Apparently it has arrived for me. I continue reading the Pound Cantos with help from this online site. And I do enjoy Ackroyd’s prose on just about anything.
This is one of two books I pulled out footnotes in John Butt’s Playing with History. Recording has had an enormous impact on how we think about and do music. I keep learning about it. I interlibrary loaned this and the next book for further examination.
Published in 1996, Culture of the Copy looks good enough to peruse.