The Grand Confusion

Saturday, November 24, 2018 By Anita Lahey Normally, these are chronicles from the Churchmouse After Hours Coffeehouse. I have woefully failed to share chronicles over the past couple of months. And so, I give you snippets… In September we delved into School Days, which could sound like a trip into nostalgia but, as per theContinue reading “The Grand Confusion”

Hands Off My Plums

[from the Churchmouse After Hours Coffeehouse chronicles] Chicano poet Alberto Ríos, who served as Arizona’s first poet laureate from 2013-2015, grew up in the U.S. near the Mexican border, speaking Spanish at home and English at school. The result, he says in an essay written about him for the Poetry Foundation website, was the creationContinue reading “Hands Off My Plums”

Inside the Sitar’s Buzz, Venice’s Beguiling Melodies, the ‘Dissolving Voice’ of Rain

  The trick is finding your own pocket of silence within sound. This is what I was thinking when Stephanie Khoury and James Hamilton, seated on cushions on the floor of Churchmouse Books, improvised an Indian classical raga, a mesmerizing, melodic tune that enveloped us in its repetitive strains. Rapt, we all sank into ourContinue reading “Inside the Sitar’s Buzz, Venice’s Beguiling Melodies, the ‘Dissolving Voice’ of Rain”

Bowen, the blitz and the twists and turns of the human heart

  This is the sort of piece I would normally post here. The good folks at The Puritan have given me room in their winter issue to parse my love of Elizabeth Bowen’s writing in their vital, energetic magazine. http://puritan-magazine.com/every-possible-problem-in-the-world-a-review-of-the-heat-of-the-day-by-elizabeth-bowen/

‘They lay on the earth like sadness come to rest’

Just a little detour In the autumn of 2005, Dad and I were driving the back road to Main-à-dieu, his Cape Breton village. Just beyond Little Lorraine, a pretty cove sprinkled with immaculate houses, he turned down a dirt road. “Just a little detour,” he said. It was a road a city-trained eye like mineContinue reading “‘They lay on the earth like sadness come to rest’”