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In June of 2014,, with the support of the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, sponsored four fellows to do research in the Raymond Danowski Poetry Library at Emory University. Danowski’s synoptic ambition—to collect literally all poetry in English published in the 20th century, including the independent journals, short-run chapbooks and broadsides that gave modernism its distinctive energy—has created an opportunity to examine the materials out of which our accounts of the century have been made, without the influence of a shaping hand. The work of our B-Side Fellows, presented here, takes the shapelessness of “everything” as a provocation to investigate the divergences between canonical accounts of modernism in poetry; to explore the many roads not taken, whether they manifest in the unedited arc of a career, in the one-off achievement, or the unclassified ephemera of a moment. What else might modernism have been? And how do such reconsiderations of modernism bear on what happens on the flip side of the mid-century divide? Edited by Jennifer Ashton and Oren Izenberg
In nonsite’s thirteenth issue, we turn to the contemporary relationship between literature and politics in Latin America today. Edited by Eugenio Di Stefano and Emilio Sauri.
It is a facsimile. It is facial angle: European woman. It is stomach simple, similar to a box. It is on either side of inside. It is grapple. It is extracted from lignite and peat. It is worn by women. It is whether with gloves, a moveable roof. It is concerned with whalebone. It is a writing material made of strips of parachute. It is myth, cat, machine. It is a cloth conclusion, of silt formerly. It is this, thin, azure. It is the plates of the skull for signaling. It is a scout concerned. It is the envelope embloomed. It is cavity, clock, cloth. It is a paper book. It is plasticized. It is of sea or not. It is to a petal of another person. It is as wine of a mixture. It is when the sum moved. It is knot, see illus. It is alone and onerous. It is veins as emissary. It is a sickle compressed. It is a pair of ghosted cranes, of silk formerly. It is dignified, sedate, staid, etc. It is where repair works gore (of a skirt). It is to the library foundered. It is a clumsy patch. It is when the issue is one not of fact but of law. It is banish.
London is alienated from itself in its artificial opposition to the otherness of nature. But it can also be rendered alien or other by its deep historical past, a past still visible within it. This is a temporal dislocation rather than the geographical and ontological one that Wordsworth envisions in The Prelude.