Thursday, January 6, 2011
Story tellers in the expanding middle class eager for professional careers move across sites of struggle in "battleground" fields. We are our soul but we haven't yet got the dead of it. You steal on me you step in close to easy with soft promise your limit and absolute absence.
-- Susan Howe, That This
A quick post to say that I'm reading Howe's wrenching and beautiful new book, That This, which responds to the sudden death of her husband and friend, Peter. The book features six "photograms" (as above) by James Welling, I think it will be inevitably, but perhaps profitably, juxtaposed with Anne Carson's sorrowful Nox (also, as it happens, published by New Directions).
I can't remember if there was snow on the ground but I do remember the cold. If winter landscape meets the being of the subject of the soul now and before, and conveys what is yours to join the finished pastoral invention of others that is rationalism's secret.
Labels: susan howe