While Ashbery Dies, I Read Sandburg
The week John Ashberry dies, I read Carl Sandburg’s Wind Song. Ashbery is, for the time being, celebrated. Sandburg, once…
The week John Ashberry dies, I read Carl Sandburg’s Wind Song. Ashbery is, for the time being, celebrated. Sandburg, once…
It is 1968. I am eleven years old. In the last few months, I have begun reorganizing my late childhood,…
On her Facebook feed, R.Y. just posted a link to a new collection of correspondence between Henry Miller and Anaïs…
I knew of Herbert Kohl from his 1995 book Should We Burn Babar? I’d bought it in the mid-90s, solely because…
It has never been easy or instant to find the work of small publishers. Press runs are tiny, distribution is…
Read Robert Crosson’s Daybook, from Otis’s College’s Seismicity Press. Never heard of Crosson, which is reason enough to read the book….
Reading William Makepeace Thackeray’s Vanity Fair was, let it be said, a complete pain in the ass. I have never loved longer…