In Don’t Look Back, Dabney Stuart recalls central people and emotions from his past and integrates them into a search for personal wholeness in the present. He honors a network of family members, calling up the richness of their lives and making room for them in his. There is his aloof and coldly majestic grandmother, a salty, aged grandfather, variations on a dream girl, and images of a mother, wives, father, sons, and an elusive brother. Undergirding these poems is an implied chronology of psychological growth: from floating prenatal consciousness, through adolescent jealousy and repression, to adult acceptance and grief. Although the autobiographical aspect of Stuart’s poems anchors them in a drama of generations, it also serves as a springboard into thoughtful and profound searchings. In the five-part poem, “The Birds,” the poet ponders the flow of events in life and the intangible forces that influence that flow. The birds of the title represent, and are somehow intimate with, these forces. Although not inclined to divulge them, the birds have answers to human question about pain, loss and regeneration. In such a time, in April, you could almost imagine a child standing under the pines, shadowed. He could lift his hand to them and open it, releasing among their needles an affable light, a flying instant which might nest in them, a birthday covenant of impossible flight The poems in Don’t Look Back are ambitious, complex meditation rendered with grace and clarity.
My plans are uncertain.ep I would like to finish something.ep I would like to knowep which dream to wake from.ep And into.ep From Annotation copyrighted by Book News, Inc., Portland, OR
The poems in Dabney Stuart’s Common Ground center on a family—the bonds that unite it and the forces that break it apart. Taking as their subject friendship, air travel, men’s room graffiti, conversation, the American West, the circus, and other polite topics, these poems nonetheless return again and again, often hauntingly, to the family, to childhood, to fathers and sons, to divorce. In “Turnings,” a father paces the halls of his home, long after his children and wife are asleep: In the years of his growing loss he would walk Through the rooms of the house after midnight, The ice tinkling in a glass of bourbon Accompanying him. Each door he passed Through seemed to yawn him in, the quiet bodies Of his sons unrecognizable in their dark beds. ................................................................................ When he looked down at his wife’s body in another room The night itself seemed to yawn, so he went out into it, Stood at the edge of the wide yard he’d tended for ten years, Discovered the next largest darkness of all. You are eating me alive, woman, he said softly, Hearing himself. The poems in this volume are affecting, honest attempts of the poet to find common ground with his reader; to express emotion, yearning, and confusion in a way that is readily accessible and true.
Dabney Stuart’s subject over the last thirty years are as disparate as the forms he chooses for them. His range includes baseball (and other games), geography, the movies, history, sideshows, domestic life—a world, in short, that is rich and various. Amid this exploration, Stuart has sustained certain concerns. The evasive and unsettling nature of family relationships threads consistently through the poems collected in Light Years; the poet uncovers deepening emotional and psychological complexities. There are celebrations of his children, his own sonship, his grandparents and grandchildren. Through it all as he says in “The Opposite Field,” the haunting image / of [a] possible life / watches from a distance.” Stuart rings evocative changes on recurrent image patterns, too. Birds are central to his work, for instance, and sing often; water flows frequently; music sounds in places as apparently incongruous as a row of cornstalks. Dreams, and dreaming, inform many poems, their precision of detail becoming part of the sharply observed physical world Stuart renders. Whatever else he is up to, Stuart always seeks the play in language, a source of delight and solace even in the most unlikely context. Indeed, as he writes in “Coming To,” When he listens to his words play back, they shimmer oddly, on edge—a stranger talking— as if they have gone through something he has no other knowledge of and brought it back: his life.
From its haunted opening to the complex affirmation of its final lines, this profound collection by Dabney Stuart presents a palimpsest of the spirit in the modern age. With jagged syncopations, lyrical stop-time, and a kind of elegiac swing, these poems spiral through multiple dimensions of time, memory, and emotion—from post-World War II America to the South Pacific-evoking perspectives of the psyche as brooding and cryptic as the Antarctic. Long Gone nimbly weaves carnal and familial love, the search for lost innocence, and the epistemology of memory into moments of hallucinatory focus where insight comes—and goes—like light on water. In “Double Exposures” a photograph of a child and grandmother reveals the slowly accreting carapace of history, memory, and habit—that cast of ourselves—that might seal us off from the purity of our beginnings. Yet for this speaker even to guess at that unnameable beginning is in itself an illumination—one that leads to an instant of faith in the progress of our spirits and their ultimate “implausible flight.” Long Gone is a troubling, spellbinding collection by a poet at the height of his powers; in it, readers encountering Dabney Stuart for the first time as well as those familiar with his other books of poetry and fiction will find cause to celebrate.
The Man Who Loves Cézanne, a quiet but authoritative new collection from Dabney Stuart, blends an assortment of landscapes, themes, forms, and tones. The poems vary in subject—World War II, browsing library stacks, a family reunion, sky diving, a visit to a museum, and cancer, among other topics—and unfold to suggest a gradual acceptance of the unavoidable vicissitudes, frictions, and griefs of human life. With allusions to writers ranging from Shakespeare to Jung, and settings such as the southwestern desert of the United States, the volume reflects an overarching concern for art, both poetic and visual, and the untoward, difficult commitment of the life of the artist. The Man Who Loves Cézanne is a delicate mingling of traditional and more open forms, creating a tension that is always attractive and often powerfully moving.
In Second Sight Dabney Stuart accompanies reproductions of the unique paintings of Carroll Cloar with poems that seek to see his work verbally. The poems are strikingly visual, fostering an interdependence between the two art forms and giving a voice to Cloar's distinctive images. Together, the paintings and poems explore the unpredictable, quirky beauty one can find in ordinary life. They also suggest the complex, affectionate ways the imagination can mediate the distance between the human and the natural worlds."--Publishers website.
This book chronicles the growth of this historic community over nearly four centuries from its founding to its most recent urban and suburban developments.
Prof. Robert L. Dabney's "A Defence Of Virginia" is a comprehensive evaluation of the kingdom's history, culture, and beliefs. Prof. Dabney digs into Virginia's history, supplying a radical defense of its traditions and ideas. The tale expertly ties together historic events, bringing perception on Virginia's contributions to the kingdom. Dabney's work is greater than an ancient narrative; it's far an impassioned plea in favor of Virginia's ideals, mainly during difficult instances. The writer articulates Virginia's awesome features, providing a robust argument against complaint. The book provides a scholarly evaluation of Virginia's function in American records, emphasizing its resilience and long-time period importance. Prof. Robert L. Dabney's writing demonstrates a thorough mastery of the concern, imparting a nuanced attitude that encourages readers to recognise Virginia's complexities. Whether debating political thoughts or societal institutions, Dabney makes a strong case for Virginia's specific identity. In end, "A Defence of Virginia" demonstrates Prof. Robert L. Dabney's commitment to maintaining and honoring Virginia's wealthy past.
Aesthetics is not a 'factual' discipline; there are no aesthetic facts. The word itself is derived from the Greek word for 'feeling' and the discipline arises because of the need to find a place for the passions within epistemology_the branch of philosophy that investigates our beliefs. Aesthetics is more than just the study of beauty; it is a study of that which appeals to our senses, most often in connection with the classification, analysis, appreciation, and understanding of art. The Historical Dictionary of Aesthetics covers its history from Classical Greece to the present, including entries on non-western aesthetics. The book contains a chronology, a list of acronyms and abbreviations, an introductory essay, a bibliography, and hundreds of cross-referenced dictionary entries on the main concepts, terminology, important persons (philosophers, critics, and artists), and the rules and criteria we apply in making judgments on art. By providing concise information on aesthetics, this dictionary is not only accessible to students, but it provides details and facts to specialists in the field.
Edmund Wilson, who helped shape American literary culture from the early 1920s through the mid '60s, is still a presence a century after his birth. This vibrant collection emerges from symposiums in Wilson's centenary year, 1995, at the Mercantile Library in New York and at Princeton University. Assembled and edited by Lewis Dabney, the book shows the intellectual voices of a younger generation interacting with veterans who knew Wilson and his times.
Taste and Experience in Eighteenth Century Aesthetics acknowledges theories of taste, beauty, the fine arts, genius, expression, the sublime and the picturesque in their own right, distinct from later theories of an exclusively aesthetic kind of experience. By drawing on a wealth of thinkers, including several marginalised philosophers, Dabney Townsend presents a novel reading of the century to challenge our understanding of art and move towards a unique way of thinking about aesthetics. Speaking of a proto-aesthetic, Townsend surveys theories of taste and beauty arising from the empiricist shift in philosophy. A proto-aesthetic was shaped by the philosophers who followed Locke and accepted that theories of taste and beauty must be products of experience alone. Francis Hutcheson, David Hume, Alexander Gerard and Thomas Reid were among the most important advocates, joined by others who re-thought traditional topics. Featuring chapters tracing its philosophical principles, issues raised by the subjectivity of the empiricist approach and the more academic proto-aesthetic formed toward the end of the century, Townsend argues that Lockean empiricism laid the foundations for what we now call aesthetics.
Dabney Stuart's 20th book of poetry guides us to a timeless imaginative world created through dialogs between the poet (Stuart) and an old poet, which heighten our awareness of the arts of contemplation, conversation, and friendship. We see the old poet as he muses in forests, along the river, or as a poet come through time, perhaps from the Tang Dynasty of eighth-century China, where friendship was a key of poetry. In "Just the Poems," Stuart begins: "It was spring again, as usual, though early. / The old poet and I walked the trail," echoing Wang Wei (699-759) who wrote in a letter to his friend, P'ei Ti, "I think much of old days: how hand in hand, composing poems as we went, we walked down twisting paths to the banks of clear streams." These conversations are gentle, profound meditations on family, memory, and awe, set in an ideal nature: "The old poet watched sun fleck the hemlock's needles, / his morning vision, time out of mind," echoing Li Po (701-762): "My friend is lodging high in the Eastern Range, / ... / At green spring he lies in the empty woods." Yet all is not gentle in our land; in "Sower," "A gunman stands on the Lincoln Memorial steps, / surveying the American Domain." In "Skipper's Run," "When we go back, we will find the jangle / of the world waiting to snare us again." Still, Stuart balances serious concerns with knowing, wit, and humor. In an untitled poem, "Time will tell, but time is speechless." And in "High and Low," "I have looked high and low for nothing at all." These poems take us somewhere new, and we know when we've been there that we've spent our time wisely, as in "Breath-Borne," "When we look up, surprised by how far we've come, / there's still only the one sky, but it's everywhere." "Dabney Stuart's Only The One Sky offers the wisdom and images of a lifetime's observation: the convergence of physical with metaphorical, nature's forms with memory, words with breath. He presents the world's ceaseless flux meditatively, without judgment, in startling and lovely equivalences. Tracing time in wind, wingbeat, traveling cloud; longing in shadow and a bird's cry. Stuart is the master poet of the invisible."-Lisa Sandlin, author of You Who Make the Sky Bend
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