Category: Reading

Summer Reading (and Writing)

~ plainswriter ~ Leave a comment

Picking up on the summer motif of my previous post, I’d say that one of my favorite aspects of summer is the time I have to read more extensively. During the academic year, a majority of my reading time is dedicated to reading for my classes. While I manage to portion time for personal reading, I rarely attempt lengthier books because they can take me several weeks to finish, so as a result, I reserve the “bigger books” for the summer.

Among the six books I’m currently reading (all of which are in excess of 300 pages, with one close to 700, and another far lengthier) is the Norton Anthology of Contemporary Poetry. Since the beginning of May, I’ve read nearly 200 pages of this 1,200-page tome. in this second full month of spring, I’ve read such poets as Denise Levertov, Anthony Hecht, Donald Justice, James Merrill, Allen Ginsberg, Maxine Kumin, and Frank O’Hara, to name a few.

I’m aware that anthologies are “greatest hits” collections, but I enjoy anthologies for the primary purposes of appreciating more the writers whose work I do know and “discovering” writers whose work I do not know (or whose work I have avoided). Because of this reading, I’ll definitely be reading more full-length collections of some of the poets I’ve read.

Which brings me to one of the poets I’ve recently read (initially reluctantly): John Ashbery. First confession: when I was a younger poet (much younger), I bought a collection of his poetry and never read it. Ever. I don’t even own the book anymore. (I traded it off at an used-book store.) Second confession: I have avoided reading him. I’d heard that he was difficult. (I can imagine my writer friends groaning at my complaining. If I still had a personal Twitter account, I’m sure I would have lost several followers.) But I have been pleasantly surprised to find that I like his poetry!

In these few weeks, I have more fun reading poetry than in quite some time. I’ve sat on the floor of my home office, the book open on the floor, my body stretched out. I know that part of this enjoyment is because of summer’s comfortable pace, but I also attribute this delight to my main summer writing project: revising 5 poems a week from my in-progress manuscript, Your 21st-Century Prayer Life. (You can read the title poem here.) Absorbing the words, images, lines, and sounds of these great poets is providing me with additional momentum in my own writing, which in turn makes me want to read more poetry.

The reading-and-writing cycle is a beautiful thing to experience, and as I savor my journey through the rest of this anthology (finishing it by the time the fall term begins) and rework my own poems, I expect there will be dozens more poets I’ll be adding to my to-read list.

On Teaching

~ plainswriter ~ Leave a comment

I recently finished year three at my university, and I feel excitement as summer is now before me. For most of my life, with a few exceptions, I have marked time on an academic calendar. And having been in a university setting for the last 19 years, I have had the luxury of summer being earlier.

Growing up in Minnesota, I savored the changing of the seasons and the build-up to summer. It’s not that I’m that much into being outside in the summer: it’s more the freedom, the rhythm of the seasons. That said, it’s been a joy to live in a climate that possesses summer-like weather more of the year around.

I find that the summer is time for me not only to accomplish much writing and reading but also to reflect and slow down. It also serves as a time for me to recharge my teaching batteries since the academic year races by. I’m grateful for a vocation that allows for that space, a space that then serves to generate anticipation for the upcoming school year.

When I began college as freshman 20 years ago this fall, I didn’t set out to be a university English professor, much less a teacher of any kind. I wanted to be a professional touring musician, playing in a successful rock/metal band. (But that backstory is a post for another time, although you can read part of the story here.)

Why do I find such satisfaction in teaching? (Please accept my apologies for a list that does not maintain parallelism.)

  • the way in which what I teach feeds and nurtures my writing life (teaching creative writing, literature, and composition)
  • writing is a solitary pursuit and teaching is a way in which I can share my experience (successes and failures) and background with others
  • I’m not sure what else I could do that would fill me with such satisfaction
  • I’m forced to adapt continually (to new students, to different courses, to different schedules)
  • there’s variety
  • I’m never bored
  • my students push me (to be a better writer, a better teacher)
  • seeing students succeed and be transformed

Then there’s the academic life itself and what I love about that:

  • working with colleagues who love literature, language, and who enjoy talking about big (and small) ideas
  • attending and presenting at academic conferences
  • a work space to have away from home
  • editing a journal
  • directing a writing festival

There’s more that I might say about either of these lists, but I’ll leave them alone (for now). Right now, it’s back to my season of recharging.

200 Quick Words on Community

~ plainswriter ~ 2 Comments

A week removed from my time at AWP ’15 (with all 14,000+ people), I find myself missing a particular community of writers of faith that I’ve come to know to and love these last few years. I find myself thankful to be a part of a community wherein there’s encouragement, humor, generosity, and fellowship.

I’ll admit to feeling inadequate and embarrassed at times because everyone (it seems to me) is so much more accomplished and skilled than I. They write prose so rich, lineation so heartbreaking, metaphor so overwhelming–I feel awed to even know them.

If I’m forthright, there’s also jealousy, envy, and covetousness that I battle. And yet at the same time I am learning to rejoice in the success of others (without bemoaning my perceived lack thereof), as well as to mourn with those who mourn.

As I write this on a Sunday evening, the sun not yet set in my west-facing office window, I think of these lovely people across the country, having read today, having written today, having worshiped today, have spent time with or apart from family, and I wish them well on the journey we share, waiting for when I will next experience their genuine fellowship.