Poem of the Day: Liam Rector’s “Soon the City”
Here is some news from our British and Postcolonial Studies Cluster, where some faculty have been publishing new research and forging exciting institutional connections in the US, UK, India and Ireland. Jenny Green-Lewis is glad to say that her essay on Victorian photography and the novel, written for the new Oxford Handbook of the Victorian…
As a little girl, the first poems I heard were from the fresh pages of the Shel Silverstein book Every Thing on It that my mom read to me by my bedside. What kept me reading Silverstein’s poems long after I could read them myself was that, beneath their kid-friendly language, poems like “Masks” speak…
Still I Rise You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like…
Below are some reflections on the GW English Department given by our former colleague Gail Kern Paster at Commencement in 2004. Professor Paster was the recipient of an honorary degree. Professor Paster joined the department in 1974, rising from the rank of instructor to full professor. An internationally acclaimed Shakespeare scholar, Paster left GW in…
From Laura Sinaga’s review of Gayle Wald’s Shout, Sister, Shout! The Untold Story of Rock-and-Roll Trailblazer Sister Rosetta Tharpe in today’s NYT Book Review: In the 1940s, when big bands were hiring pretty girls with sweet voices to bob over their beats, Tharpe fronted Lucky Millinder’s raucous swing outfit with gutsy force. In the late…
I. I am a man. I’ve lived alone. I’ve been in love. I’ve played with fire, cursed the telephone, and basked in verse, in verve, and also Humid, terrestrial, mixed, nongenderspecific, have occasionally day’s tumult ushers in an evening with a lone moved a woman’s shut icecream stand, false promises of cone heart, although …