May 14, 2012 On Poetry At the Grave of Richard Hugo By Alice Bolin It is an indisputable fact that the memory of poet Richard Hugo haunts Missoula, Montana. This notion might first strike us as innocuous, obvious, falling within the simple domain of legacy. Thirty years after his death, he leaves equal endowments in Missoula, as the most important “Montana poet” and as a teacher of poetry: he was one of the first directors of the University of Montana’s renowned creative writing program and the author of a classic handbook on creative writing, The Triggering Town, that is filled with excellent, weird, and practical advice. Further related to the activity of haunting: Hugo’s poems famously concern places. He is known primarily as a regional poet, and many of his most famous poems are named for Montana towns or landmarks, like “Degrees of Gray in Philipsburg,” “The Milltown Union Bar,” and “The Lady in Kicking Horse Reservoir.” One can use his book of collected poems, Making Certain It Goes On, as a guidebook to Montana’s bleakest and loveliest destinations; titles of his poems will lead you to Garnet ghost town, St. Ignatius, Turtle Lake, Wisdom, and Fort Benton, finally winding back to what was once Hugo’s actual address in Missoula, 2433 Agnes Street. When Hugo wrote a poem about a place, he made the place a part of himself, and now that he’s gone, a part of him remains in those places. Read More
May 14, 2012 Bulletin The Art of Poetry, Live By The Paris Review Photograph by Dominique NabokovWatch a Paris Review interview in action! Thursday, May 17, Paris Review poetry editor Robyn Creswell will interview poet James Fenton (both fellows at the Cullman Center) at the New York Public Library in what will, ultimately, become a part of our legendary Art of Poetry series. The interview will be followed by a Q & A with audience members. For details, visit the NYPL’s web site. We’ll see you there.
May 14, 2012 Contests Our New Tote, Designed By … You! By The Paris Review It has long been a source of chagrin here at 62 White (and to George Plimpton before us) that our love for the Strand went unrequited. Though we whiled away our weekends amid their shelves, brought them armloads of books every time we moved, and always spent more than we got paid, the Strand refused to carry so much as a single copy of The Paris Review. We tried not to take it personally. We were told it was company policy—no magazines. But in our heart of hearts, we always knew we should be together. Was there no room for us in their sixteen miles of books? Now, all is right with the world. Starting June 13, not only can you purchase America’s finest literary quarterly at 13th and Broadway, but you can join us there, too, for a series of events featuring the best fiction, poetry, movies, actors, and readers we can find. It’ll be smart. It’ll be fun. And it will come with an original tote bag celebrating these two venerable New York institutions. And who, you ask, will design this tote? You, dear reader! That’s right: we’re holding a contest. Get in touch with your inner graphic designer/illustrator. Here are the details: Design a bag that features the original Paris Review logo (as seen on our homepage and the cover of the magazine) and remember to leave room for the Strand oval, too. You can incorporate old cover art, go all-graphic, or dream up something completely your own. (For further inspiration, check out our current totes!) We want to know what the Review means to you! Submission deadline: Monday, June 5, 2012 Artwork maximum size: 10 inches by 10 inches EPS vector format preferred; 300 dpi acceptable Send your entry to [email protected] The winning design will be revealed at the inaugural event at the Strand on June 13, 2012. Top entries will be posted on The Paris Review Daily. The grand-prize winner will receive a Strand shopping spree and a year subscription to The Paris Review. Plus, of course, your tote.
May 14, 2012 Arts & Culture Literary Paint Chips: Gallery 3 By Leanne Shapton and Ben Schott Paint Samples, suitable for the home, sourced from colors in literature. As seen in our two-hundredth issue. Fox Stain Graham Greene Iteration Pudding Hood Fence Skipper’s Whiff Pizza Noise White Martyr’s Tongue League Funeral Suit Dead Sea Doze Dishwater Blonde Stupid Blue Dorsal Bible Black Lo’s Socks Poop Poop American Autumn Damned Spot Spit Black Georgie’s Pins Oatmeal Tweed Treasure Blue Nimbus Card Felon Yellow Wine-dark
May 14, 2012 On the Shelf Slang and Secrets: Happy Monday! By Sadie Stein The ten most-read books in the world. Caleb Crain: “Like poetry and pornography, slang is easier to recognize than to define. Most of it is disapproved of by someone, but obscenity alone doesn’t qualify. It isn’t slang, for example, to refer to manure with a four-letter word. But if you put the article ‘the’ in front of that four-letter word and equate the president-elect of the United States to it, then slang it is, and very complimentary.” After seventy years, the identity of Lorca’s lover is revealed. In honor of late artist Mike Kelley, a replica of his home. Speaking of homes, Updike’s will become a museum. Walking with George Bernard Shaw.
May 11, 2012 Ask The Paris Review Walking While Reading By Lorin Stein I’ve been reading a few things lately on the subject of walking, including treatments philosophical (Rousseau’s Reveries of the Solitary Walker, Thoreau’s “Walking”), narrative (Walser’s The Walk, new from New Directions next month), and poetic (O’Hara’s Lunch Poems and some Wordsworth). I’m thinking of writing an essay on the subject and noting that my list so far consists of only dead men. Can you recommend any writers who are female and/or living who have written about walking? Rebecca Solnit is female and very much alive. You should start with her Wanderlust: A History of Walking. And if city walking interests you—or the subject of walking with one’s mother—you will want to read Vivian Gornick’s modern classic, Fierce Attachments. As it happens, I’m in the middle of a brand new book about walking: The Old Ways: A Journey on Foot, by Robert MacFarlane. I keep saving it for bed to make it last. The American edition won’t be out until October, but the British edition comes out early next month; if you can possibly wait for it, I would. You will want to read MacFarlane, above all for the wealth of his references, but also for the unabashed, Norsey music of his prose: I’ve read them all, these old-way wanderers, and often I’ve encountered versions of the same beguiling idea: that walking such paths might lead you–in Hudson’s phrase–to “slip back out of this modern world.” Repeatedly, these wanderers spoke of the tingle of connection, of walking as seance, of voices heard along the way. Bashō is said to have told a student that while wandering north he often spoke with long-dead poets of the past, including his twelfth-century forbear Saigyo: he therefore came to imagine his travels as conversations between “a ghost and a ghost-to-be.” With so much to read out there—and more being published all the time—how do you find the time to get through it all? Please don’t quote my actual name. Dear “Stefan” (not his actual name), You’re mixing me up with Kurt Andersen—and I have no idea how he gets through it all. I get through almost none of it. It just sits there on my desk and table and shelves, glowering, until our interns box it up and take it to the Strand. But the nice thing about books is that they don’t go anywhere. The good ones keep. Have a question for the editors of The Paris Review? E-mail us.