The Midwest Quarterly articles from January 1993

The Midwest Quarterly archives from January 1993

'E.T.' and the Beijing Spring Movement: American Culture, Chinese Values. ('E.T.' the motion picture)
January 1, 1993... In the summer of 1988 Ramapo College of New Jersey - a largely suburban, middle-income state college - sent my wife and me to the People's Republic of China to teach for a year in the Beijing Institute of Tourism. This is a small four-year...

Marathon man: ending at the beginning.
January 1, 1993... Some years ago at the University of Missouri, a fellow graduate student and I were listening to a lecture on literary criticism. The speaker, a famous one (as fame goes in academia), had been introduced accompanied by his many titles and...

Fish and funny money, or isn't that in South America somewhere? (cultural barriers to development in Sierra Leone)
January 1, 1993... SIERRA LEONE hides itself away on the coast of West Africa. It remains a peaceable place, compared with its neighbors, and the people of the land are very friendly. In the northeast the hills are steep and rocky; the house I lived in sits on...

Latin American women in literature and reality: Garcia Marquez's 'One Hundred Years of Solitude.'
January 1, 1993... As derived from the contemporary Latin American novel, our knowledge of the reality of womanhood is fragmented and distorted. At first glance it seems that all levels of such literature have typecast women in either matrifocal or matrilocal...

February. (poem)
January 1, 1993... On a day dark With winter rain A hidden jay In the Maple's crotch Creaks in his true voice: Hinged gate Sprung by the wind, Swing- Ing As though a boy Alone in the rain Played the gate Like blue pipes.

How a sunset works. (poem)
January 1, 1993... Start at the closest end to unclip the colors, sprawling them over your arms, loosely folding the sheer blues. Shake the firmness out of whites, toss them limp in the big grey bag, but square the light pastel sheets (here, of course, you'll...

Depression kid. (poem)
January 1, 1993... I never bad any money but I did have a bike and there was nothing to do in the summer but ride my bike to the beach and back. it was a bloody ass haul from L.A. to Venice but there was nothing else to do. one thing, it really built my legs...

The box. (poem)
January 1, 1993... The box dresses itself in red and green wrapping, though it is not Christmas. Sometimes it sits on glass tables where fine legs cross and uncross; sometimes it climbs to the top shelf and watches handsomely from a child's closet....

Backwater. (poem)
January 1, 1993... Here, the Great Blue looms like a questionmark above matted duckweed and reed grass, birch and willow leaves. Patient as summer, it hunts in the green haze with eyes shining like stars, like minnows. I watch its careful dance until daylight...

Weed in drought. (poem)
January 1, 1993... Underfoot, in dooryards, in gardens, purslane takes hold and prospers - even against the tenacity of August light, even against the last lifting of moisture from crumbling soil, even when the brook has given up its bullheads and runs to...

Getting my children to rub my feet. (poem)
January 1, 1993... The ways I tricked them, telling them to plant a garden along the arches, suggesting the soil needed loosening, kneading, before scattering seeds in rows, the part where they tamped my skin so firmly it seemed everything would take root. And...

The cold. (poem)
January 1, 1993... On a cold day I stood and watched a broad river flow and didn't drink a drop. Now I have turned to stone up to the knees. There is a small pine tree growing in the red soil beside me. It is my only company. What I loved... what...

The fox. (poem)
January 1, 1993... Snow creaks underfoot. In the clearing the pond smolders, its white smoke motionless while the sun pales, plunges down down into the deep river of evening. I walk slowly, lifting the cold weight of my body which feels nothing, thinking so...

Spring snow. (poem)
January 1, 1993... This is what I asked for, something fragile as crocus, lighter than blown cloud. I wanted to look out and remember winter a last time, and then go on with my plan of greeting the first leaves, but with some regret. After all, at the end of...

The rye field. (poem)
January 1, 1993... We walk into the rye field Arm in arm on a cold night To hear the distant stars yield Their faint crackling light. By day oxen haul ploughs Through soil dense with rocks Propelled forward by blows Stinging on legs and flanks. But at...

Winter rain poem. (poem)
January 1, 1993... Too bad, too bad, this time of year - Insulting, cold January - You can freeze, standing for a bus. In the heart, all great vessels are frozen. Look here, this lyric is peculiar, And composed entirely of faults, The sparrow falling out...

Fifteenth child. (poem)
January 1, 1993... Because of fear I have avoided the bear that stands with paws and claws upraised. The grizzly turns sniffing goes through fields of fiery red petals to a forest with golden aspen leaves shimmering in the wind. I packed everything I owned...

Waking up in New Jersey. (poem)
January 1, 1993... It's a small world waking up in New Jersey - predictable mornings of the gas going "poof" under coffee, the electric buzz of the razor over the sink. There's something here, we can suppose, for those who thrive on the stout poetrics of...

Afternoon of a yawn. (poem)
January 1, 1993... The afternoon mist has reminded me To seek the solitude of A green telephone booth Standing empty on a corner. Women in great hats, Grown in neat gardens, Pass me, Wink and groan. Scientists move slowly through the streets And press their...

Prajna paramita. (poem)
January 1, 1993... It is today. The sidewalk you are following is brick, almost as wide as the street; Snowdrift Crabs and Bradford Pears spread in full bloom through iron grates, glistening with last night's rain. Hanging gardens full of marigold, sage and...

A day at the plaza. (Plaza Uruguaya in Asuncion, Paraguay)
January 1, 1993... A casual visitor to Asuncion might well pass by the Plaza Uruguaya and not give it a second glance. After all, it hardly looks distinguished: a bit of shubbery wedged in between the skyscrapers, a few old men lounging on painted benches, and...

Democratic inevitability and its consequences: a sketch of Alexis de Tocqueville's sociology.
January 1, 1993... When part I of Alexis de Tocqueville's Democracy in America was published in 1835, it was hailed immediately as a classic in political sociology. Critics felt that the author had brilliantly described and interpreted American social...

Under Western Skies: Nature and History in the American West.
January 1, 1993... This is a book of environmental history, so it is perhaps appropriate that it consists largely of recycled material. Nine of the eleven chapters are lectures or reprints from books and journals, including Western Historical Quarterly, Great...

Railroads Triumphant: The Growth, Rejection and Rebirth of a Vital American Force.
January 1, 1993... Albro Martin is former Professor of Business History at Harvard and Oglesby Professor of American Heritage, Emeritus, at Bradley University. His previous books include Enterprise Denied: Origins of the Decline of American Railroads and James...