In an essay for Sports Blog Nation, Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Stephen Dunn reflects on his path from college basketball player to poet. "What basketball and poetry have in common," he writes, "is that they each provide opportunities to be better than yourself — opportunities for transcendence."
Mental is madder than madcap. I heard one critic sniff, "It's kind of broad" — and, Your Honor, the defense agrees! But if broad means "unsubtle," it doesn't have to mean "unreal." Mental makes most other movies seem boringly, misleadingly sane.
The dedication of the Lehigh-Bethlehem Chinese Harmony Pavilion at the South Side Greenway on April 20th will be the topic of discussion with Norman Girardot, Marcus Brandt and Dongning Wang of Lehigh University. The Pavilion was designed and built by an interdisciplinary team of Lehigh students over a nine month period. Hosted by George Miller and Kate Scuffle. (Original air date April 8, 2013.)
Tell Me More celebrates National Poetry Month with the 'Muses and Metaphor' series — where listeners submit their own poems via Twitter. Today's tweet comes from former Social Security Commissioner Michael Astrue, who not only has a fondness for crunching numbers, but is also a published poet.
Brian Kimberling's debut novel, Snapper, is a lovely, loose-limbed collection of stories about an aimless ornithologist named Nate, who as the book opens is possessed of a glitter-covered pickup truck and a massive (somewhat requited) crush on redheaded dream girl Lola. Nate and his friends wander toward marriage and maturity over the course of 13 linked stories — encountering angry snapping turtles, bald eagles and mystic mechanics along the way.
Originally published on Tue April 9, 2013 10:42 am
Meg Wolitzer's fat, talky new novel begins in 1974 at an arts camp in the Berkshires where six teenagers sit around in a teepee smoking pot and discussing Gunter Grass. Yes, Gunter Grass, which gives you an idea of the kind of kids Wolitzer is writing about: smart, privileged, pretentious.
Originally published on Tue April 9, 2013 12:50 pm
My earliest memory of code switching is at Pizza Hut, back when Pizza Huts were sit-down restaurants with salad bars and garlic bread. (Like any daughter of immigrants, most of my memories involve food.) My mom and dad would speak with the waiters in English, ordering our pan-crust pizzas and Pepsi products, but we used Mandarin at the table. Our Mandarin was our secret code.