What supposed stuffiness is aired out? Christopher Smart's verses on his cat are connected, by a weird historical lineage, to Khlebnikov, Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, Kathy Acker, and Joe Wenderoth. She is a virtuoso writer. It's not very clear sometimes. I haven't read every page of this behemoth, but I'll mark it as such here anyway. Editors load these anthologies full of short, accessible essays that can be used by beginning teachers to model one or another rhetorical mode for distracted 19-year-olds.
I hear there will be three in total. With this collection, as with Next American Essay, I wish I had five extra stars to give. He compares the essay to the short story on the one hand and the article on. Do we read nonfiction in order to receive information, or do we read it to experience art? You know this is just a taste of mankind's genius and like a child discovering gourmet cooking realize that there is a whole world of unknown feasts awaiting. He emphatically wants our idea of the essay to include the imagined, the speculative, even the counterfactual. If scholastic philosophic propositions can be aphorisms, and aphorisms can be theses, why not develop that as an historical argument? You could do this with several writers; the editor's selected many that I've heard of, but never read.
I can't wait for that third one to come out. Each is also paired with detailed introductions that accumulate over the course of the book into a collective history of Creative Nonfiction. A must for readers of nonfiction. Metaphysics has always struck me as a prolonged form of latent insanity-Admittedly, Fernando Pessoa had me with the title. The selections are exquisite, fresh, and wonderfully translated. I'd also recommend the Touchstone Anthology of Creative non-fiction, which a professor of mine had us all read in graduate school.
This, then, is a book that tries to offer a clear objective: I am here in search of art. It mixes the intellectual with the personal and ends on a note that sent shivers up my spine. There is no reason to despair. The next few years will likely see no anthology of writing, in whatever genre, as compellingly readable and as richly worthwhile as this one. Bernardino de Sahaguin's dictionary is excerpted, creating a false and fortuitous sense of poetry. The Lost Origins of the Essay takes the reader from ancient Mesopotamia to classical Greece and Rome, from fifth-century Japan to nineteenth-century France, to modern Brazil, Germany, Barbados, and beyond. For D'Agata, it isn't important to put each piece in its perfect cultural context and explain exactly how it was received during that time period.
However, the scope of time and culture covered is impressive. The wider ambit allows for some interesting essays here, but also what felt like a lot of extraneous ones--I got the feeling his eye was more on the textbook market. Saloman, apparently feeling essayistic herself, observes the following: The essay is just as vulnerable to mood shifts as the dwarf is, and is equally susceptible to developing its world view through the subjective lens of a momentary impression. I am here to track the origins of an alternative to commerce. With brief and brilliant introductions to seminal works by Heraclitus, Sei Sho-nagon, Michel de Montaigne, Jonathan Swift, Virginia Woolf, Marguerite Duras, Octavio Paz, and more than forty other luminaries, D'Agata reexamines the international forebears of today's American nonfiction. In lyrical and personal headnotes, D'Agata introduced his readers to lyrical and personal essays.
White—have the sleepy timelessness of a bayou. In essays, there is no disembodied third-person narrator, no hiding among the voices of others. In any event, D'Agata's insights on the genre of nonfiction and the essay as form in this collection are as valuable, to me, as the essays themselves. This, then, is a book that tries to offer a clear objective: I am here in search of art. Do we read nonfiction in order to receive information, or do we read it to experience art? Anyhow, reading D'Agata's selections is instructive for you readers and writers.
Not as good as the first in this series, The Next American Essay, but maybe just because that one seemed so groundbreaking to me. In this soaring anthology he takes the reader from ancient Mesopotamia to classical Greece and Rome, from fifth-century Japan to nineteenth-century France, to modern Brazil, Germany, Barbados, and beyond. An satisfying anthology of some of the best writings- not too strictly designed essays, but musings and expositions- of Eastern and Western civilization, ranging temporally from Ziusudra of Sumer to Beckett. The prose makes you feel as if you are gliding above something beautiful rather than walking through it. In neat postmodern fashion, it has now been followed by its precursor.
It's not very clear sometimes. An expansive and exhilarating world tour of innovative nonfiction writing I think the reason we've never pinpointed the real beginning to this genre is because we've never agreed on what the genre even is. I am here to track the origins of an alternative to commerce. But while I agree with D'Agata's assertion that the essay is Art, I feel he sometimes grinds his axe too fine. It is a small, independent house that is organized as a nonprofit and doesn't chase the freshman comp market, enabling D'Agata to publish longer, more difficult essays. Why not theorize on aphorisms since Bacon's theses are not aphorisms? I love picking this up and poring through sections at random. It keeps the essayist from getting a big head.