Summer Reads: Chapter & Verse (The Coldest Girl in Coldtown)

Happy Poetry Friday, everyone!

Mary Lee and Franki are hosting
today's round-up
at A Year of Reading.

This is the fifth post in a series called Summer Reads: Chapter & Verse. Guest bloggers and I are pairing books we've read this summer with a poem that complements the novel.

So far, we've paired:

THE GIRLS AT THE KINGFISHER CLUB (Historical YA) with Edna St. Vincent Millay's "First Fig"

DARIUS & TWIG (Contemporary Urban YA) with Gwendolyn Brooks' "We Real Cool"

STARGIRL (Contemporary YA) with Eileen Spinelli's, "Poem for a Bully" and "Advice to Rapunzel" -- Shared by guest blogger Janet Wong

THE IMPOSSIBLE KNIFE OF MEMORY (Contemporary YA) with W.M. Rivera's "The You That's Left"

I'm not normally a vampire person.

Interview with the Vampire ... meh.

The Historian? It turns out historians are dull, even when they're on the trail of Nosferatu.

I read Twilight as a cautionary tale for teen girls: How to tell when your boyfriend is a controlling stalker.

Source: The Afictionado

However, I make an exception for two smart, strong, complicated teen girls -- one who is a vampire queen, the other who is infected with vampirism.

My first favorite vampire is Marceline the Vampire Queen from the TV show Adventure Time. The second is Tana from Holly Black's urban fantasy THE COLDEST GIRL IN COLDTOWN.

I promised some geekiness today, and geekiness you shall have.

This weekend, I'll be going to Otakon with my teens. It's a celebration of anime, manga, and all-things Japanese pop culture. Even though Adventure Time isn't an anime, people still cosplay characters from the show.

People like me.

Marceline is an easy character to cosplay. Most of her outfits can be built from things you already have in your wardrobe. Add a long, dark wig -- gray stage make-up, fangs, and bite-marks if you're really into it -- and you're all set.

Then I started thinking, I'm going to have to carry a purse and it's going to look really dumb, carrying a purse dressed as Marceline the Vampire Queen. That is how I came up with a brilliant idea -- my best idea in many years of being crafty. I would make tote-bag shaped like axe-head Marceline's bass guitar.

Another time, I will write out directions, which started out simple and became totally lengthy and complicated. Here is the finished product:

Believe it or not, there is totally a normal-sized black tote bag inside this thing! With magnetics snaps and everything.

Before I swoon from craftiness, let's move on to Tana.

When my kids were little, we loved THE SPIDERWICK CHRONICLES. Since then, I've dipped into Holly Black's YA fantasies once in a while. I loved WHITE CAT from  her Curse Workers series, so this summer, I tried THE COLDEST GIRL IN COLDTOWN on audio.

Tana and her ex-boyfriend are the only survivors of a vampire massacre. She escapes the scene with her ex, who's been infected with the virus for vampirism, and with a mysterious vampire-on-the-run named Gavriel. Together, they head to a quarantined "Coldtown." There, Tana gets caught up in the complicated personal and political relationships of ancient vampires. She learns that being a vampire isn't as glamorous as reality television makes it out to be. And she learns that she'll do anything to survive Coldtown with her humanity intact.

The poem I'm pairing with this novel is also suited for upper YA.

Grief Puppet
by Sarah Beasley

In the nearby plaza, musicians would often gather.
The eternal flame was fueled by propane tank.
An old man sold chive dumplings from a rolling cart,
while another grilled skewers of paprika beef.
Male turtledoves would puff their breasts, woo-ing,
and for a few coins, we each bought an hour with
the grief puppet. It had two eyes, enough teeth,
a black tangle of something like hair or fur,
a flexible spine that ran the length of your arm.
Flick your wrist, and at the end of long rods
it raised its hands as if conducting the weather.
Tilt the other wrist, and it nodded. No effort
was ever lost on its waiting face. It never
needed a nap or was too hungry to think straight.
You could have your conversation over and over,
past dusk when old men doused their charcoal,
into rising day when they warmed their skillets.
The puppet only asked what we could answer.

Read the rest of the poem at The Academy of American Poets.

Even though "Grief Puppet" is not a vampire poem, it caught my attention as a discussion partner for Tana's story. The two works share several images: street food, the puppet's lack of humanity (which reminded me of the vampire characters in the novel), the walled town, the coin (an important prop in the book is shaped like a coin).

It's the walled town at the end of the poem that wowed me, though. Until I read that line, I had not thought of Black's setting -- a quarantined, lawless town surrounded by high walls -- as a metaphor for grief. 

Tana *is* grieving -- for a mother turned vampire, for all of her friends killed in the massacre she survived, and for the "normal" childhood she did not have.

Because of the poem, I have a deeper understanding of Holly Black's novel. My hope with this series is that we'll continue to find novels and poems whose interplay deepens our experience of reading both.

I promise some middle grade novels next week (and some cosplay photos from Otakon)!

Do you have an idea for Summer Reads: Chapter & Verse? I'm still looking for guest bloggers! For more information, find a full explanation of the series and a sample Chapter & Verse pairing at this post.

Source Poems: "Mother to Son"

For National Poetry Month 2014, I have invited 17 authors and poets to guest post about source poems. In this series of essays, each writer will describe a single poem's significance in his or her life.

Our guest blogger for today's source poem is poet and children's author Jacqueline Jules.

Jacqueline Jules

MOTHER TO SON

by LangstonHughes

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

Langston Hughes, “Mother to Son” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 1994 by The Estate of Langston Hughes. Reprinted with the permission of Harold Ober Associates Incorporated. Source: The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes (Vintage Books, 1994)

Located at http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/177021

My Ethical Will: “Mother to Son”

by Jacqueline Jules

“Mother to Son” by Langston Hughes comes as close to an ethical will as I could ever write to my own sons and grandchildren. Life may sparkle brilliantly at times, but it is not a crystal staircase. Instead of shining steps transparently waiting to lead us to our dreams, we must face tacks, splinters, and “boards torn up.”

My work as an author and a poet has been fraught with as much rejection as success. This year I had two picture books published. NeverSay a Mean Word Again took 16 years from idea to publication. What a Way to Start a New Year required 24 years. In June, Stronger Than Cleopatra, a poetry chapbook I’ve been working on for 20 years, will finally be made available to readers through ELJ Publications. I am intimately familiar with “reachin’ landin’s,” “turnin’ corners,” and “a-climbin’ on.” Rejection is a part of a writer’s life and choosing to sit down every time it happens means being stuck on a rotting staircase with your head in your hands.

This is not to say I haven’t been tripped by other things. Grief has certainly tempted me to sit down on too many occasions. I lost my first husband when I was 37 years old. My parents died nine months apart. Less than two years ago, I watched my only sister painfully succumb to a debilitating genetic disease at the same time another family member was diagnosed with cancer. Sometimes I question my ability to handle what may lie ahead. The height of the staircase is daunting. It offers no view of how many steps must be climbed before the next landing. And if I feel weak and lean too hard on the rail, it sways.

Perseverance, as portrayed so eloquently in “Mother to Son,” has redeeming power. To keep “a-climbing on” and “turnin’ corners,” even when it means “goin’ in the dark” is to recognize that better alternatives do not exist. The narrator in this poem provides both a courageous model and a challenge. If she keeps climbing when her life hasn’t been “a crystal stair,” then her son can face disappointments, too. A parent with a stubborn streak is a powerful inspiration. The voice in my head that keeps me moving when I’d rather collapse often sounds exactly like my father’s.  

The staircase beckons, even when there are “places with no carpet on the floor.” Our job in life is to keep climbing. To accept that life is supposed to be meaningful, not easy. 

And when I reach my final landing, I hope it will be said that I always had the courage to follow the sage advice Langston Hughes offers in “Mother to Son.”

Jacqueline Jules is the author of the poetry chapbooks, Field Trip to the Museum, coming in March from Finishing Line Press, and Stronger Than Cleopatra, coming in June from ELJ publications. Her poetry has appeared in numerous publications including Inkwell, Soundings Review, The Innisfree Poetry Journal, Potomac Review, Minimus, Imitation Fruit, Calyx, Connecticut River Review, and Pirene's Fountain. She is also the author of two dozen books for young readers including the Zapato Power series, No English, Sarah Laughs, and Never Say a Mean Word Again. Visit her online at www.jacquelinejules.com

Thank you for sharing your personal connection to this poem, Jacqueline. The stories that we have been telling in connection with source poems have made this a powerful National Poetry Month series.

Here is a word animation with a dramatic reading of Jacqueline's source poem, "Mother to Son":

Previous posts in this series:

Laura Shovan on "This Is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams

Dylan Bargteil on "On Moral Leadership as a Political Dilemma" by June Jordan

J. C. Elkin on "Hannibal Clim" (author unknown)

Diane Mayr on a haiku by Basho

Jone MacCulloch on "We Are Waiting (a pantoum)" by Joyce Sidman

Mary Bargteil on Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot

National Poetry Month 2013: Making Global Connections with Poets & Artists

I met Maryland-based poet Regina Sokas several years ago, when I was editing an anthology of Maryland poets, Life in Me Like Grass on Fire.

I have a Facebook group where Life in Me contributors can keep in touch, make announcements, and share news. That is where I learned that Regina's brother, Patrick Sokas, M.D., had passed away at age 55. It was March, 2012.

The next time I saw Regina, it was summer. She was planning an anthology of poetry to honor her brother, who was a journalist before he focused his career on medicine. Her idea: the book would be composed entirely of found poems, each based on one of her brother's articles.

Regina and I discussed a couple of sites and list-servs where she might place a call for submissions. It's just over a year after Patrick's death, and Regina has collected found poems from around the world, honoring her brother's work.

Here is the story of how the TechnoVerse helped Regina's vision for an anthology become a reality:

This journey started in that very private, primitive space created by grief. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of his condo, sorting through papers my brother left behind when he unexpectedly died, I read his old newspaper articles and heard his voice.

If you have grieved, then you know how I wanted more than just a time-frozen, one-way conversation. (Not that Patrick had anything against a good monologue, mind you.) How do you converse with a text written thirty years ago? Maybe with found poetry – poetry that takes an existing text and extracts/manipulates/creates something new.

A caricature of Patrick Sokas.

First, I needed to make articles available for ‘finding.’ A blog was free over on Blogspot, so I loaded articles up onto foundpatrick.blogspot.com.

Next, I needed poets. I sent out emails and pimped it on Facebook. I stuck a toe in LinkedIn. Duotrope agreed to list me, as did the Creative Writers Opportunities List Group on Yahoo ( CRWROPPS-B@yahoogroups.com). [Highly recommended for those of you looking to submit work to literary journals.]

Poems began arriving from across the United States, then Canada and the UK. People were reading my brother’s words and responding. Australia I snagged by accident when I got a sales email from an Australian poet and emailed him back. (Australia was Patrick’s favorite place on Earth.) John Holland responded in verse.

Thanks to the Internet, I built a collection of found poems that started in that private space and grew into a conversation taking place around the globe and across the barriers of time, space and mortality.

I started to crave artwork. Here is where I crossed over into really unfamiliar territory. “Where,” I asked, “are the Duotropes and CRWROPPS to reach artists?” No one that I knew could tell me. So I incessantly Googled.

And I discovered the websites deviantART and ArtWanted. Browse by subject. Browse by medium. Wade through everything in search of a gem. Make note that poets and artists live in different countries – no matter where they physically live. Adjust your communication accordingly. I learned to look for artists that had their own web pages containing at least some English language since I am monolingual.

In this way, I found work from nearby, but also from Bosnia and India. I found Jarek Kubicki, (https://www.facebook.com/jarek.khaal.kubicki), a Warsaw-based artist of formidable talent. One of his pieces I acquired was a haunting study of a man watching a meteor shower that I knew belonged with Patrick’s article on the Superbowl. (You learn to just start trusting the connections that present themselves.)

Art by Jarek Kubicki

I had known that I would need to end my conversation with my brother. I knew now that I would end it with this meteor shower from Poland and a poem. I had struggled a bit to get enough distance from my brother’s words and found that if I imposed a fairly rigid structure on myself that it helped. I ended up writing this pantoum taken from the Superbowl article in response to this artwork:

The Chase

Prepared to chase across the skies

Just to be near to you,

One thing stuck out:

You broke me.

Just to be. Near to you

Only one last razzle-dazzle and

You broke. Me?

I’m foggiest with a motley heart.

Only one last razzle-dazzle, and

Strange, a land with no living you.

I’m foggiest with a motley heart,

A performer in your new story.

Strange, a land with no living you.

One thing stuck out:

A performer in your new story

Prepared to chase across the skies.

By Regina Sokas

Published with permission of the author.

And here is Patrick Sokas's 1984 article "A pilgrimage to Disneyland: It was good." The piece appeared in the Oakland Tribune, December 4, 1984.

Regina Sokas’ articles appeared in newspapers across the country, from the Portland Oregonian to the Staten Island Advance and the New Orleans Times-Picayune. The latter is particularly wonderful to say aloud. Most recently, her poetry and short stories have appeared in the anthologies Life In Me Like Grass On Fire, That One Left Show and in June 2013’s forthcoming Found Patrick, for which she serves as editor. Regina is currently shopping a novel, Crazy Like Heaven. She is a Johns Hopkins-trained psychotherapist. (One word. Not two.)

Regina says: A bit about Patrick. He died last March at the age of 55. He lived all over the world, but most recently in Towson, MD,

The book covers a particularly productive 10-year period between 1974 and 1984, age 18 to 28. In those years, Patrick earned a B.S. from Penn State and an M.D. from Jefferson Medical College, writing for the school newspapers. Then he was a reporter at The Kansas City Times and The Oakland Tribune.

Patrick eventually elected to focus on medicine rather than journalism, although he continued to contribute to journals. He was a fan of politics, movies and the habits of human beings -- and adored giving his opinions on all these things and more.

Thank you Regina. I loved how this project allowed you to continue a conversation with your brother during this grieving time. What a beautiful way, also, to encourage others to engage with his voice.

Tomorrow is Poetry Friday. April Halprin Wayland will be here to tell us about one of her favorite poetry websites.