“The Air Around the Butterfly” – a gem of a poetry collection

Katerina Stoykova Klemer’s first book of poems, The Air Around the Butterfly, has recently been published by Fakel Express, a publishing house in Sofia, Bulgeria. While she originally wrote all of these poems in English, she has also translated each of them into her native Bulgarian language and they appear in the book side by side, English and Bulgarian.

Her poetry is elegant, concise, witty, inventive, and often very surprising. She has a knack for bringing inanimate objects (like a spare tire, or letters of the alphabet) to vividly engaging life. Her observations about the world around and within are keen and deeply insightful. Her work is among the most engaging poetry I’ve ever encountered.

I cannot recommend this volume highly enough. Full disclosure: Katerina is a friend and classmate in Spalding University’s brief residency MFA in Writing program, but my personal relationship with her has zero bearing on my deep admiration for her work.

Get this book and savor the poems within. You will not regret it. (It is available to order on Amazon now!)

Namaste.

Readings…

So as I find myself in the early stages of my third semester in Spalding University’s MFA in Writing program, it seems an appropriate time to take a cue from a fellow Spalding student and friend Colleen Harris and share with you readers my cumulative bibliography to date. It is copied below, and I ask you to feel free to make suggestions about things I have not yet read that perhaps I should – especially in the genre of creative nonfiction, which is what I’m finishing my degree in. This includes memoir, essays, and the like.

To be clear, these are only books I’ve read and absorbed since beginning the MFA program a little more than a year ago, so it is certainly conceivable that you might suggest something I’ve already read, but I welcome any suggestion anyone has. Really. I mean it.

Meanwhile, I’m hard at work at my extended critical essay, or ECE in Spalding parlance, and am actually enjoying composing it quite a bit. It’s about how yearning compels empathy and action in memoir. I’ll let you know when I’m done.

Here’s the list:

Buckley, Christopher. No Way to Treat a First Lady: A Novel. New York: Random House, 2003.
---. Supreme Courtship: A Novel. New York: Twelve, 2008.
Butler, Robert Olen. From Where You Dream: The Process of Writing Fiction. Ed. Janet Burroway. New York: Grove, 2005.
Carver, Raymond. “Cathedral.” Cathedral: Stories. New York: Vintage-Random House, 1984. 209-228.
Conroy, Frank. Body & Soul: A Novel. New York: Delta-Random House, 1993.
---. Stop-Time: A Memoir. New York: Penguin, 1997.
DeLillo, Don. Falling Man: A Novel. New York: Scribner, 2007.
Didion, Joan. The Year of Magical Thinking. New York: Knopf, 2005.
Driskell, Kathleen. Seed Across Snow: A Collection of Poems. Los Angeles: Red Hen, 2009.
Ellroy, James. My Dark Places: An L.A. Crime Memoir. New York: Vintage-Random House, 1997.
Emerson, Claudia. Late Wife: Poems. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University, 2005.
Finch, Robert. The Iambics of Newfoundland: Notes from an Unknown Shore. New York: Counterpoint, 2007.
Foster, Thomas C. How to Read Literature Like a Professor: A Lively and Entertaining Guide to Reading Between the Lines. New York: Quill-HarperCollins, 2003.
Gibaldi, Joseph. MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers. 6th ed. New York: The Modern Language Association of America, 2003.
Goodman, Richard. French Dirt: The Story of a Garden in the South of France. Chapel Hill: Algonquin, 2002.
---. The Soul of Creative Writing. New Brunswick: Transaction, 2008.
Gorman, Jacquelin. The Seeing Glass: A Memoir. New York: Riverhead, 1998.
Herr, Michael. Dispatches. New York: Vintage International-Random House, 1991.
Holloway, Monica. Driving With Dead People: A Memoir. New York: Simon Spotlight Entertainment, 2007.
Iyer, Pico. Sun After Dark: Flights Into the Foreign. New York: Vintage-Random House, 2004.
Jones, Edward P. Lost in the City: Stories. New York: Amistad-HarperCollins, 2003.
Katz, Jon. A Dog Year: Twelve Months, Four Dogs, and Me. New York: Random House, 2003.
Lamott, Anne. Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. New York: Anchor, 1995.
Le Guin, Ursula K. Steering the Craft: Exercises and Discussions on Story Writing for the Lone Navigator or the Mutinous Crew. Portland: Eight Mountain, 1998.
Lisberger, Jody. Remember Love: Stories. Louisville: Fleur-de-Lis, 2008.
McClure, Tori Murden. A Pearl in the Storm: How I Found My Heart in the Middle of the Ocean. New York: Collins, 2009.
McKee, Robert. Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting. New York: ReganBooks-HarperCollins, 1997.
Moehringer, J.R. The Tender Bar: A Memoir. New York: Hyperion, 2005.
Moffett, James and Kenneth R. McElheny, eds. Points of View: An Anthology of Short Stories. New York: Mentor, 1995.
Monsoon Wedding. Screenplay by Sabrina Dhawan. Dir. Mira Nair. Mirabai Films, 2001.
Oates, Joyce Carol, ed. The Best American Essays of the Century. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2000.
Obama, Barack. Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance. Rev. ed. New York: Three Rivers, 2004.
O’Brien, Tim. In the Lake of the Woods. New York: Penguin, 1995.
---. The Things They Carried: A Work of Fiction. New York: Broadway Books, 1998.
Patchett, Ann. Bel Canto: A Novel. New York: Harper-Perennial, 2005.
---. The Patron Saint of Liars: A Novel. New York: Harper-Perennial, 2007.
---. Run: A Novel. New York: Harper-Perennial, 2008.
---. Truth & Beauty: A Friendship. New York: Harper-Perennial, 2005.
Tolle, Eckhart. A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose. New York: Plume-Penguin, 2006.
Truss, Lynne. Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation. New York: Gotham, 2006.
Wolff, Tobias. This Boy’s Life: A Memoir. New York: Grove, 1989.
Wood, James. How Fiction Works. New York: Farrar, 2008.

I can't seem to figure out how to get things underlined in this blog, alas... please understand that all titles are underlined in my official cumulative biography. Same goes for the hanging indentation that doesn't translate when I copy here. LOL...

Namaste.

Reclaiming the House Part 2

So reclaiming the house turned out to be more difficult, or perhaps a better word is strenuous, than I initially thought it would be. We had to move furniture back in place, of course, and return art to walls – but there was also a good deal of painting and cleaning and rearranging that is pretty much de rigueur when one’s house has been upended.

Simultaneous to reclaiming our house from the renovations I have re-signed up on Facebook. A lot of old friends and some new have materialized. It’s cool. No one has yet tried to get me to engage in any vampire or bat or what-have-you games and for that I am grateful. But there are many folks from my MFA in Writing program at Spalding who are online and it’s great to “see” them. Also, many folks from my past life (sometimes current life) in theater and it’s wonderful to see them as well.

So… reclaiming the house? Reclaiming one’s identity? They aren’t too different if you think about it. We get comfortable with what we know, with what feels familiar. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It is at it is. But I guess I also think it’s valuable to understand that we are comfortable with the familiar, that we are comfortable with what is, with what we know. Sometimes we need to face the unknown. All of us. Regardless of our socio-economic status, our race, ethnicity, creed, religion, you name it – whether we are prepared or not, we will be forced to confront the unknown. And, perhaps it’s not a bad idea to get ready for it. We can’t quite “prepare” for it, because we don’t know what “it” will be, but we can be ready to expect the unexpected. We can be okay with the unknown, ready to face the unknown, the heretofore not known. Soon it might become more comfortable than we can imagine.

For now, I am working on reclaiming our house, reaching out to friends and loved ones and carrying on.

Namaste.

MFA Residency – Early Day 1

I arrived in Louisville, Kentucky a little before 8:00 p.m. last night having left Chicago right around 12:30 yesterday afternoon. This morning I’ve been rereading and revising my comments regarding the writing of five of my fellow MFA students with whom I’ll be in workshop these next ten days.

This afternoon things begin with a meet and greet of sorts followed by dinner and then the Book-in-Common discussion led by Program Director Sena Jeter Naslund and Associate Program Director Kathleen Driskell. This residency’s Book-in-Common is Claudia Emerson’s Pulitzer-Prize winning book of poetry, “Late Wife.” “Book-in-Common” means that all MFA students regardless of genre or term within the program read the book prior to residency for a full group (plenary) discussion. Later in the week, we’ll have the opportunity to meet and speak with Claudia Emerson, which is always a highlight of the residency here at Spalding University’s brief-residency MFA in Writing Program.

Soon, I will meet up with one of my fellow students for lunch at the Bluegrass Brewing Company, a nifty bar and restaurant just across the street from the Brown Hotel. Fellowship with other writers is one of the most enjoyable and gratifying aspects to the 10-day residencies we have twice a year here. Writing is such a solitary vocation most of the time that being able to share notes and work and thoughts and victories and frustrations with other writers is very welcome, indeed.

Spalding is a highly supportive community of writers and I’m enjoying the anticipation of all getting under way, of seeing the many friends I’ve made within this community, and, most especially, of continuing on my journey to try to be a better writer.

More to come… Namaste.

The Peace of Wild Things

Earlier today while taking a short break from preparing for my upcoming MFA residency in Louisville, I was cleaning up the kitchen – while listening to National Public Radio’s Speaking of Faith – and the announcer mentioned that a Wendell Berry poem would be featured in the next segment. Having been assigned some Wendell Berry prose to read in advance of this month’s residency, I turned up the volume and looked forward to hearing the poem. This is the poem Krista Tippett, the show’s host, read:

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry, "The Peace of Wild Things" from The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry. Copyright © 1998.

Wow. Indeed. And all that.

This reminds me so much of what I’ve been reading lately, most especially the works of Eckhart Tolle. It also calls to mind the following well known Biblical verse: “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” (Matt. 6:28-29)

Berry writes of the “wild things/who do not tax their lives with forethought/of grief.” Isn’t it interesting that he writes “of” grief rather than the more expected (and, I suppose, more pedestrian) “or” grief? And the idea of “not taxing” one’s life is precisely what Tolle is talking about when he counsels that we should live in the present moment in a spirit of acceptance; for, what is is. And there’s really little we can do to change that. What we can control is what action(s) to we take or not take in response to what is.

The “day-blind stars/waiting with their light” that Berry writes about remind me of Tolle’s reminder that even on a cloudy day, the sun is still there. We simply are not able to see it.

Thank you Mr. Berry. Thank you Ms. Tippett for reading this on today’s program. And thank you wild things for demonstrating peace and living in the now and accepting things as they are each and every day.

Namaste.

A Change of Seasons

Today in Chicago we expect to see temperatures above 80 degrees for the first time since October 12th last year. Ahhh, spring! Tulips have sprouted in the parkway in front of our house. Buds are opening on trees up and down the block, including the majestic maple that stands in front of our house. The day before yesterday I swept all of the branches, twigs, and dead leaves off of our porch and this evening I will fire up the Weber grill for the first time this year and cook our dinner outside.

Winter in Chicago can be a long haul. This last winter was one of the worst on record, with several record-breaking snowfalls and extremely cold temperatures. Sometimes people ask me how I can stand the bitter cold of winter, and sometimes I wonder myself as well. The answer is: spring, summer, and autumn (when we have autumn, which never really occurred last year). Spring and summer in Chicago are glorious. The lake shimmers and beckons, the sun doesn’t set until mid-evening, and there is often a pleasant breeze to check the rising temperature – often, not always.

There’s another thing about the change of seasons. It helps demarcate time. It helps me to feel as if I’m progressing in some way. Just as finishing one semester of my MFA in Writing and preparing to start the next semester provides a measure of sorts, so, too does the changing of seasons. For instance, I can vividly recall many instances and events from the summers of 1985, 1986, 1987, 1988, and 1989 (to name just a few) in a way that I doubt I would be able to recall had they not been summers – set off from the other seasons of those years. Likewise, I can recall events from the autumns of 1981 and 2008 with equal recollection because they are set against the backdrop of autumn. (In the case of 2008, it was a summer-like autumn, but I recall it nonetheless and always will. Something to do with a guy named Obama, you know.)

Every now and again I’ve been seduced by the idea of living somewhere like San Diego or Sarasota. A place where it’s relatively mild year round. But when I think about it for more than a few minutes, I always come to the same conclusion: I would really miss clearly changing seasons. As much as I sometimes don’t particularly enjoy winter (snow shoveling, digging the car out of a parking space, etc.) it is also clear to me that without winter, I would likely not appreciate spring and summer and autumn as much as I do.

It’s been more than six months since we’ve had an eighty plus degree-day here in my beloved city of Chicago. When you wait that long for a beautiful summer like day, you sure appreciate it!

Namaste.

MFA Midpoint

Well, as hard as it is for me to believe, I’m roughly halfway through my MFA in Writing experience. I’ve sent my final packet of my second semester off to my mentor and am eagerly awaiting her feedback. And, just an hour or so ago, I submitted the creative nonfiction (an excerpt from a memoir in progress) that will be workshopped at May’s residency session at Spalding University in Louisville, Kentucky.

In the past year of being enrolled in this program, I’ve produced about 400 pages of original writing (fiction and creative nonfiction) and an additional 80 -100 pages of short critical essays on 18-20 books I’ve read as part of the program. I recall that at the end of my first term, my creative nonfiction mentor, Richard Goodman (author of French Dirt and The Soul of Creative Writing), suggested that I clear off a large table or workspace and lay out all the work I’d produced during that semester. It was a great idea. It’s easy while in the midst of a program or a project or just our everyday lives, I suppose, to lose track of how much we’ve accomplished over a certain period of time. How often do we take a moment to step back and “lay out our work” so we can take a look at it, regard it, appreciate it? Not often enough, I would assert.

Life is, of course, more about the journey than it is about the destination. But even allowing that, there are milestones. And they exist, in part, at least, in order to provide a moment of repose, of reflection, of perspective, perhaps. Birthdays can be milestones, anniversaries can be milestones, and the beginnings and endings of a year or a month or a semester (or even a single day) can serve as milestones.

Taking a moment to look at how we’ve spent our time in the past x weeks or months or even years can help boost morale and/or motivation, it seems to me, especially if we find ourselves in a relative rough patch. Maybe there are heavy storms or blinding rain or conflicting passions or just too many things to be taken care of in the hours with which we’ve been allotted. We’ve all been there, Lord knows. Maybe the gutter fell off of your house or the storm drain just outside of the basement door stopped draining water or maybe half of your windows need to be replaced. Well, I hear you. I’ve just described this spring at the Russell household. It can feel, at times, overwhelming. But, it also, simply, is. What is happening is happening. All we can do is choose how to react.

So tonight I’m choosing to put aside the drain and the gutter and the windows for a moment, and celebrate that I’m halfway through my MFA. I’m on my way.

Namaste.

Embracing Ambiguity

A friend of mine has a new blog called Lost Glove Found. Another couple of friends - Katerina and Andrew most especially - have been encouraging me to start a blog.

So here I am. At the beginning of a journey of unknown duration, no destination in mind.

Would somebody please tell Roland Burris that the time for him to go has come? I know, The Chicago Tribune called on him to resign today. Good for them. I also sent an email to Senator (barely) Burris's office today asking him to resign.

I'm tired of Chicago and Illinois politics making us look like jerks to the rest of the world. Sure, some of us are jerks in this town, but not everyone.

Anyone who has met my wife can tell you without fear of exaggeration that she is not even remotely jerk-like. Don't take my word for it. Ask anyone who's met her. It's true.

It's snowing again this afternoon but at least the weather folks are saying there is little chance of significant accumulation today. We've had far too much snow in Chicago already this winter. But, enough about that - I certainly have no wish to make this blog simply a vessel for my whining or complaining about the snow. (What some don't know is that the spring, summer, and autumn seasons here in Chicago are so glorious that living through winter makes it all worth it. That is, the year's that we have an autumn this is the case. Last year, we went from 70 degrees on the glorious Election Day to minus fifteen a few days later.)

Some Things I'll Share Before I Close:

1. There's a very nifty online literary magazine called Public-Republic (http://www.public-republic.net/) I encourage you to visit. They've published some of my recent writing.
2. I am relieved beyond my ability to express in words that the long eight years of "W" have come to an end.
   
3. I am thrilled that Barack Obama and his family are in the white house!
   
4. I am currently pursuing (that's precisely the right word - it feels, at times, like I'm chasing it down, running at top speed, lungs aching, breath short, feet beating on the pavement, wind rushing by my face) an MFA in Writing with Spalding University's Brief-Residency Program. I recommend it highly for anyone considering an MFA in Writing.
   
5. I am grateful beyond measure for the writing community into which I've become immersed through Spalding.
6. I don't see the dentist as frequently as I should, but have begun to work on rectifying that. Next visit, next Wednesday. Honest. Made the appointment earlier today.
   
7. I am mistrustful of organized religion, but deeply respectful of spiritual people.
8. I distrust anyone who says they know the one, best, most surefire way to accomplish something. (See above.)
9. I embrace ambiguity even as it causes me no end of grief. Sometimes.
10. I'm learning not to title work until it's already been written. And read aloud. At least once.
11. Let me be clear: Ambiguity in writing is not something I embrace. I think writing should be as specific, detailed, nuanced, subtle, thriving, moving, and alive. Ambiguity in life, it seems to me, is unavoidable.
    

If you are still here, thanks so much for reading.