A flamboyant and controversial figure, William Marion Reedy was one of the most successful literary entrepreneurs of his day. Editor of the Mirror, a St. Louis weekly, from 1891 to 1920, Reedy played a large role in breaking down the genteel literary tradition, developing a native poetry, and helping to form some fifty significant poets. Emily Dickinson, Stephen Crane, Ezra Pound, Edwin Arlington Robinson, Amy Lowell, Sara Teasdale, Carl Sandburg, and Vachel Lindsay are just a few of the writers whose works Reedy featured in his magazine. The Man in the Mirror offers a colorful description of Reedy's boyhood in St. Louis during the turbulent period following the Civil War. This well-documented biography follows Reedy throughout his years as a reporter in the early days of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and Globe-Democrat and as editor of the St. Louis Star. Only seven years after Reedy founded the Mirror as a national journal of opinion--a potpourri of political comment, social gossip, and literary miscellany--the magazine's circulation far surpassed that of the Dial, Atlantic Monthly, or Nation. Max Putzel truly conveys the spirit and personality of Reedy by carefully examining his life within the context of the literary world he influenced so significantly. Full chapters are devoted to his relationships with Theodore Dreiser, Ezra Pound, Vachel Lindsay, Amy Lowell, and others. Edgar Lee Masters, whose Spoon River Anthology first appeared in the Mirror, called Reedy both the "Literary Boss of the Middle West" and his best friend. In fact, Reedy had quite a range of friends, from librarians to politicians, St. Louis locals to Teddy Roosevelt. His personal effect on people, writers and readers alike, is what has made him such an important historical figure. It is a tribute to Reedy's critical judgment that the reputations he helped to build would later overshadow his own. The Man in the Mirror, lauded as "the first substantial study of Reedy's work" by American Literature, reveals Reedy's notable contribution to the literary world.
Until recently most discussions of William Faulkner have centered exclusively on his novels. Yet no chronicle of Faulkner's Growth as a literary artist, perhaps America’s foremost in this century, can afford to overlook the years he spent struggling to establish himself as a writer of short stories. To trace in detail Faulkner's personal and artistic growth during the prolific years 1925-1931, when he was approaching artistic ripeness and earning belated recognition, has hitherto been impossible. There seemed to be no means of dating the innumerable drafts, the false starts and fumbling revisions, among the thousands of sheets left behind when he died in 1962. Max Putzel’s critical study of these crucial formative years fills this gap—assigning dates to the sketches and drafts of stories and relating them both to Faulkner’s jealously guarded private life and the several critical histories of the novels that have recently appeared. Putzel maintains there is a necessary, a “symbiotic” relation between the novels and the stories. He also finds that the short story form Faulkner found so hard to master liberated a lyrical power that had been stifled during his confused dilettante period as a poet in a provincial southern town. Yet his turbulent, ambivalent feelings about that town and its inhabitants were essential to his development, however slowly and reluctantly he surrendered to their benign influence—the genius of his homeplace. Faulkner also was sensitive to the monumental revolutionary changes, even the trivial fads and foibles, of his own time—the changes that swept the world outside of Oxford, Mississippi, after the Great War he so regretted having missed. Faulkner’s maturing vision of man, history, and class and caste relations was affected by Einstein’s theory of relativity, Freud’s probing into the hidden wellsprings of human behavior, Eliot’s borrowings from anthropology, Joyce’s new rhetoric, Diaghilev’s eclecticism, Picasso’s ventures in cubism and classicism---not to mention the Treaty of Versailles, Prohibition, jazz, free love, free spending, gang violence, false prosperity, the crash, and the depression. These factors also helped shape a style capable of evoking passion and tenderness, anger and laughter, and every intermediate shade of feeling---a style demanding the creative effort of readers. Genius of Place takes all this into account while seeking to determine what is likely to endure and reward future readers of works like “Carcassonne” and The Sound and the Fury, the Snopes trilogy and As I Lay Dying, “Dry September” and Sanctuary.
Smuggling is typically thought of as furtive and hidden, taking place under the radar and beyond the reach of the state. But in many cases, governments tacitly permit illicit cross-border commerce, or even devise informal arrangements to regulate it. Drawing on extensive fieldwork in the borderlands of Tunisia and Morocco, Max Gallien explains why states have long tolerated illegal trade across their borders and develops new ways to understand the political economy of smuggling. This book examines the rules and agreements that govern smuggling in North Africa, tracing the involvement of states in these practices and their consequences for borderland communities. Gallien demonstrates that, contrary to common assumptions about the effects of informal economies, smuggling can promote both state and social stability. States not only turn a blind eye to smuggling, they rely on it to secure political acquiescence and maintain order, because it provides income for otherwise neglected border communities. More recently, however, the securitization of borders, wars, political change, and the pandemic have put these arrangements under pressure. Gallien explores the renegotiation of the role of smuggling, showing how stability turns into vulnerability and why some groups have been able to thrive while others have been pushed further to the margins. With both rich empirical detail and novel theoretical contributions, Smugglers and States offers important insights into security and stability in North Africa and the prospects for economic inclusion in a context where many livelihoods exist outside of the law.
Until recently most discussions of William Faulkner have centered exclusively on his novels. Yet no chronicle of Faulkner's Growth as a literary artist, perhaps America’s foremost in this century, can afford to overlook the years he spent struggling to establish himself as a writer of short stories. To trace in detail Faulkner's personal and artistic growth during the prolific years 1925-1931, when he was approaching artistic ripeness and earning belated recognition, has hitherto been impossible. There seemed to be no means of dating the innumerable drafts, the false starts and fumbling revisions, among the thousands of sheets left behind when he died in 1962. Max Putzel’s critical study of these crucial formative years fills this gap—assigning dates to the sketches and drafts of stories and relating them both to Faulkner’s jealously guarded private life and the several critical histories of the novels that have recently appeared. Putzel maintains there is a necessary, a “symbiotic” relation between the novels and the stories. He also finds that the short story form Faulkner found so hard to master liberated a lyrical power that had been stifled during his confused dilettante period as a poet in a provincial southern town. Yet his turbulent, ambivalent feelings about that town and its inhabitants were essential to his development, however slowly and reluctantly he surrendered to their benign influence—the genius of his homeplace. Faulkner also was sensitive to the monumental revolutionary changes, even the trivial fads and foibles, of his own time—the changes that swept the world outside of Oxford, Mississippi, after the Great War he so regretted having missed. Faulkner’s maturing vision of man, history, and class and caste relations was affected by Einstein’s theory of relativity, Freud’s probing into the hidden wellsprings of human behavior, Eliot’s borrowings from anthropology, Joyce’s new rhetoric, Diaghilev’s eclecticism, Picasso’s ventures in cubism and classicism---not to mention the Treaty of Versailles, Prohibition, jazz, free love, free spending, gang violence, false prosperity, the crash, and the depression. These factors also helped shape a style capable of evoking passion and tenderness, anger and laughter, and every intermediate shade of feeling---a style demanding the creative effort of readers. Genius of Place takes all this into account while seeking to determine what is likely to endure and reward future readers of works like “Carcassonne” and The Sound and the Fury, the Snopes trilogy and As I Lay Dying, “Dry September” and Sanctuary.
A flamboyant and controversial figure, William Marion Reedy was one of the most successful literary entrepreneurs of his day. Editor of the Mirror, a St. Louis weekly, from 1891 to 1920, Reedy played a large role in breaking down the genteel literary tradition, developing a native poetry, and helping to form some fifty significant poets. Emily Dickinson, Stephen Crane, Ezra Pound, Edwin Arlington Robinson, Amy Lowell, Sara Teasdale, Carl Sandburg, and Vachel Lindsay are just a few of the writers whose works Reedy featured in his magazine. The Man in the Mirror offers a colorful description of Reedy's boyhood in St. Louis during the turbulent period following the Civil War. This well-documented biography follows Reedy throughout his years as a reporter in the early days of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and Globe-Democrat and as editor of the St. Louis Star. Only seven years after Reedy founded the Mirror as a national journal of opinion--a potpourri of political comment, social gossip, and literary miscellany--the magazine's circulation far surpassed that of the Dial, Atlantic Monthly, or Nation. Max Putzel truly conveys the spirit and personality of Reedy by carefully examining his life within the context of the literary world he influenced so significantly. Full chapters are devoted to his relationships with Theodore Dreiser, Ezra Pound, Vachel Lindsay, Amy Lowell, and others. Edgar Lee Masters, whose Spoon River Anthology first appeared in the Mirror, called Reedy both the "Literary Boss of the Middle West" and his best friend. In fact, Reedy had quite a range of friends, from librarians to politicians, St. Louis locals to Teddy Roosevelt. His personal effect on people, writers and readers alike, is what has made him such an important historical figure. It is a tribute to Reedy's critical judgment that the reputations he helped to build would later overshadow his own. The Man in the Mirror, lauded as "the first substantial study of Reedy's work" by American Literature, reveals Reedy's notable contribution to the literary world.
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