the green notebook,

, further fall 2024: reading Adrienne Rich + Louise Akers, amid overseas plans,

I’m enjoying the small volume “WHAT WE ARE PART OF” TEACHING AT CUNY: 1968-1974 (2013) by Adrienne Rich (1929-2012), the first of a two-volume pair of archival editions assembled by Iemanjá Brown, Stefania Heim, erica kaufman, Kristin Moriah, Conor Tomás Reed, Talia Shalev, Wendy Tronrud and Ammiel Alcalay. Lost and Found, The CUNY Poetics Document Initiative, has been producing a series of publications salvaged from the archives of poets for years, providing incredible opportunities for essays, letters and other documents otherwise fallow in literary archives the possibility of access. Produced out of the Center for the Humanities at the City University of New York (CUNY), there have been some incredible finds among their series, most of which would have remained unseen without such critical excavations. As Rich’s notes include:

Most of us feel the need to continue with our own education—not in terms of doctoral credits, but in terms of relevant reading—whether in linguistics, Black or Latin literature, history, current events, criticism. Our ability to meet the needs of our students, depends to some extent on the remediation of our own education, which in most cases was patchy or inadequate in the above areas.

As Rich knew, some fifty years ago, one must keep up with the relevant reading. I’ve worked hard to keep up with the ebbs and currents of contemporary work, especially threads I don’t fully understand, occasionally pushing myself to review a particular title specifically because I don’t quite know how yet to approach it. The goal, of course, is ever to be able to provide productive commentary on the work that has a sense of context, and the work on its own terms. Some books take more work than others, which might say more about my own perspectives than anything else.

I haven’t read much in the way of Adrienne Rich, but I did catch a reading she did in Toronto back in 2010, as she was presented the Lifetime Recognition Award by the Griffin Poetry Prize. Such clear, solid, confident lines, even across her soft speech.

*

Last night was Hallowe’en, fully aware that our window for the young ladies trick-or-treating is closing. Rose will be eleven in a couple of weeks, not sure how many more years we might get. Last night, Rose in Kanata with a school friend, while I walked the two and a half hours with Aoife, alongside one of her school friends, and her school friend’s father, who is apparently a neurologist. We talked nonstop throughout, as I asked him a bunch of questions, and now I know a bit more about what a neurologist does. Is not every person, in their own way, interesting?

The warmest Ottawa Hallowe’en on record. None of us required jackets. It doesn’t feel right.

There is talk today of Christine and I attempting to organize a reading or two for ourselves in Ireland next July. The past few weeks, fundraising for the Anglican Girls’ Choir that Rose recently joined, for the sake of twelve days they’re aiming to perform and tourist across Belfast, Galway and Dublin. We’re nervous about her away, and for so long, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. Some parents are chaperoning, and others are travelling to coincide and meet up, and Christine suggests if we can get a reading invitation or two, we might be able to achieve Canada Council funding for the sake of our travel, even if we’ve Aoife in tow. The expectation that, once we’re there, to say her name and a dozen heads will turn. Today, sending emails to anyone I know in Ireland, to see what options might be.

Queens, New York poet Louise Akers, from ALIEN YEAR (2021):

She says: By February everyone

will be important.