curbside on an Arp-like table. He’s alone of course, in the arts district as it were, legs folded, swaying a foot so that his body seems to summon some deep immensity from all that surrounds:
In Germany, I began to experience what it was like to think in another language. Also, the way Germans looked at me—with curiosity but no racial baggage—was so different than Americans. I began to understand a little bit more about my own country and how I fit in or not.
One night, she turns the novel’s last page. This is all— small house, plain street, some trees, sweet and irksome neighbors, dishes, bills, water leaks,
The Poet Edgar Allan Poe: Alien Angel. By Jerome McGann. Harvard, 2014. 256p. HB. $24.95.
I hadn’t read any of Edgar Allan Poe’s verse in decades. So when Jerome McGann’s new book landed on my desk, I decided to reacquaint myself with [...]
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