Shenandoah remembers the life and work of our fourteen-year contributing editor and former Washington and Lee University professor, the late Claudia Emerson. Born on January 13, 1957 in Chatham, Virginia, Emerson received her undergraduate English degree from the University of Virginia and her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. In addition to W&L, she served as a professor at Randolph-Macon College, University of Mary Washington, and Virginia Commonwealth University. Though a late bloomer in the poetry world, she received numerous awards for her captivating, innovative work, including fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Library of Congress, the Virginia Commission for the Arts, and the Guggenheim. She earned a membership with the Fellowship of Southern Writers, as well as a position on staff at the Sewanee Writers Conference. In 2008 she was appointed as Poet Laureate for Virginia. The Southern flair and vivid details embedded within the lyrical expressions of her poetry earned Emerson a Pulitzer Prize for her book of poems entitled Late Wife in 2006. Other volumes of her work include Pharaoh, Pharaoh (1997), Pinion: An Elegy (2002), Figure Studios: Poems (2008), Secure in the Shadow (2012), and The Opposite House (scheduled to release in March 2015). She nearly completed a seventh volume of her work, and many of those poems will eventually be published, culminating in a new volume. Her husband, Kent Ippolito, a musician of bluegrass, rock, folk, jazz, and other genres, will carry on his late wife’s legacy. The Cortland Review’s “Poets in Person” video from Spring 2012 ventures to Fredericksburg, VA to capture an intimate look at Emerson’s life in that town, her and her husband’s musical-duo pursuits, and her perspective on her work.

Washington and Lee professor Lesley Wheeler remembers her former colleague with admiration:

 “Her first book, Pharaoh, Pharaoh, means a lot to me, not least because I watched her pull the book together while working here in Payne Hall. From those first poems through Secure the Shadow, she worked through an especially nuanced relationship to place. Place is always imperiled in her work, infused with loss, but in the latter book place is also imperiling her. Poems such as “Half-Life” consider the large vein of uranium in her home county and the prevalence of cancer in the families she knew growing up. Her poems exhibit exceptional intelligence as well as care about getting the details right.

 Personally, she taught me a great deal about dedication both to her students and to her own work. We had a lot of conversations about the debts we owe to our poems, our careers, and ourselves, and one of my big debts is to her. Our early friendship was potent but tricky (I describe it briefly in my latest blog post at http://lesleywheeler.org/blog/), so I was grateful to reconnect with her in the last few years. I’m still in touch with many W&L students who cite her as one of the most inspiring, helpful teachers they’ve ever had, and I can testify that she was an inspiring person to teach alongside as I was learning the ropes. I still introduce the Great War poets, for example, the way she did in a great guest lecture for my class nearly twenty years ago.”

Poets, colleagues, and readers across the country sing praises of Emerson’s work and her character:

 Prof. Lyrae Van Clief-Stefanon of Cornell University (former student) described Emerson as one of her “favorite people in the world,”  “smart, joyful, open, quick to laugh and quick to share.”

“Claudia Emerson brings an undeniable reputation to our department,” said Katherine Bassard, Ph.D., professor and chair of the VCU Department of English. “A poet of her caliber and teacher of her aptitude will enhance and inspire students and faculty peers alike.”

Writing in Newsweek, David Gates called [Late Wife] “such a smart, intense, satisfying and approachable book that readers will return to it for decades.”

“I really do not know of another writer of her generation who can weave such diverse materials together to make such a cohesive and urgent whole. With Secure the Shadow, Emerson once again proves that she is among our essential poets.”—David Wojahn

A poem from Pinion: An Elegy (2002) and featured in Shenandoah’s “Strongly Spent: 50 Years of Poetry” edition in Spring/Summer 2003.

The Admirer

September, 1926, clear

He had before come courting—with pecans
or peaches, berries. She had those times been able
to thank him with one of her pies and be
done with him. For this, though he would want
supper, to sit at the table with her
after supper. For this, reckoned he had
spent most of the morning emptying
the sky of its plenty: the doves spilled from
burlap in iridescent disarray,
three dozen at least, a shimmering

bouquet. And so the afternoon was for her
defined; the hour deepened the mound of feathers,
blue-gray, plucked in porch-dusk, and the wind,
disinterested, would once in a while stir them.
She knew they were easy to bring down
over a field where they would fall into
the tangled grasses and go on flying against
what had been wind. Easy—as this was not:
feet, gut, heart, the smooth brow with eyes open
like garnets glowing; she cut and tossed over

and what was in the end useless
onto the feathers, a last and bloody bed,
or to the cats, who growled and circled her,
to keep the peace. A dove would amount to,
at best, a half-dozen mouthfuls, the dark
breast tender but gristled with shot—black seed. She
threw a whole bird to the nursing cat
and wondered whether the white kitten had opened
its eyes; if they were blue, it would be deaf,
she had been told and told she could not let it

live. She would see about that. Her mother called down
how are they coming. More work than they’re worth,
she answered back, for such a little meat.
Even with the birds still baking, yet to be
eaten, with still the biscuits to stir up
and gravy yet to make from the meager fat—
with a strait hour to pass before he would
lean back from the table to pick his teeth and sigh—
she had decided he should have left the doves
their beloved sky, for she would not be won.

Shenandoah’s Editor R.T. Smith wrote the book jacket blurb for Claudia Emerson’s second book, Pinion, which reads, “In her carefully unfolding chronicle of quietly claustrophobic rural life, Emerson has reawakened the vernacular of hard times and yearning.  She has conjured an exquisite lament from the drought and fallow ground of a family farm and reminded us of the durability and splendor of the human heart.”

On the poet, Smith remarks, “In subsequent books, she continued to explore with deftness and tact a variety of vernaculars of suffering, and she was so often pitch-perfect that I began to see her as the signature Southern poet of her generation.  Fortunately, she also had the opportunity to write about exhilaration and sweet seasons, which she addressed with equal vigor and originality, and in those later poems she disassembled some of her narrative strategies and reached new heights of lyric expression.  Claudia Emerson could tell a story and she could sing a song, and was not much tempted by nonsense or ordinariness.   She is a poet to be read and re-read, and the only consolation I can find in her passing is that she has left us two more volumes of poems, so her voice will still be singing for a long time.  Let the birds and the bards get ready to shiver with envy.”

Claudia Emerson left a permanent footprint in the world of poetry. Shenandoah and Washington and Lee are blessed to have had the opportunity to be influenced by her work and character. A tribute to the poet will appear in Shenandoah later this winter.

My English capstone class focuses on the study of memoir. Our class, comprised of one professor and six students, gathers each week around a conference room table to discuss and to analyze the practice of self-writing. Our studies cover an array of works, ranging from fiction to personal essays to memoirs. We’ve read Marilynne Robinson’s fiction novel Gilead, Joan Didion’s personal essay In Bed, and Mary Karr’s memoir The Liars’ Club. Supplementary to reading major works, our professor throws in theoretical texts that examine the practice of writing memoir, the multitude of creative choices involved and the tools needed to create a successful piece. The narrating “I” vs. the narrated “I.” The incorporation of historical episodes. The methods of humor, spirituality, reflection. And the ever-popular “show don’t tell.” We read, we analyze, we discuss. We gather the information and the skills we’ve collected from our studies to create our own pieces of self-writing. At the end of the term, we will culminate our capstone class and our careers as English majors with our own memoirs.

I’ve studied memoir and creative non-fiction in a multitude of English classes throughout my college career. I struggle with my own self-writing, specifically with selecting a piece of my memory to analyze or an episode of my life to portray to my audience. I’m still trying to find my groove with the practice and to discover my unique voice. But I think that’s why I’m so drawn to reading memoir and to the work itself. I’m struck by the art of self-writing and the way writers creatively craft and portray episodes of their lives. I admire David Sedaris’ self-deprecating humor. I respect Joan Didion’s journalistic approach to recounting her personal memories. Right now, I am particularly enthralled with Mary Karr’s writing after studying The Liars’ Club in my English class. She’s a creative genius who carefully depicts incidents of her turbulent childhood with vivid details and captivating descriptions. She takes on a child’s point of view to portray the turmoil of her youth, presenting the darkest of moments with poignant clarity and without vilifying any particular character.

My capstone class studies great works of memoirs whose authors shine brightly in the world of their genre. However, another side to the worlds of memoir and autobiography is emerging. With the rise of popular culture comes the rise of a new wave of memoir, where individuals with present-oriented stories publish books about themselves. These individuals write autobiographies or memoirs for an immediate audience by pinpointing a story that sells, that grabs the public’s attention, that exposes scandal or hardship, and mass produces the book across the country. First came the celebrities, publishing books about their lives in Hollywood and rise to fame, such as Tina Fey’s Bossy Pants. Next came musicians, athletes, politicians, reality television stars, etc. Now regular Americans who believe they have a compelling story to tell are publishing memoirs about their life

struggles and overcoming hardships. Don’t get me wrong—many of these books are interesting, insightful, and entertaining. But the books contain transient subject matter and poor technical writing skills. These new memoirs and autobiographies top Amazon’s bestseller list, which drives the books’ popularity up even further because readers go to the list to select a read that fellow Americans are reading as well. The books on the list are entertaining and lack the threatening nature of more powerful, well-written books, such as Mark Twain’s autobiography. I, personally, would select Amy Poehler’s new autobiography Yes, Please over Ulysses S. Grant’s memoir as a summer beach read. But if I wanted a compelling story told through exquisite prose, I would choose to read Grant. The pop-culture oriented subjects of today’s memoirs and autobiographies entertain and enthrall us, but after a few years they are forgotten and left to collect dust on our bookshelves, while Ulysses S. Grant’s memoir withstands the test of time and continues to be read over one hundred years after his death.

The rise of transitory memoirs and autobiographies urges me to wonder what will happen to memoirs from Mary Karr or Joan Didion, the well-written memoirs that carry weight and hold substance in the literary world, over time. Books such as Life is Not a Reality Show: Keeping it Real with the Housewife Who Does it All by reality television star Kyle Richards and Kardashian Konfidential by the Kardashian sisters are on bookstands and best-seller list. The pop culture memoirs delve into the superficial lives of reality television stars and grasp the public’s attention. The present-oriented autobiographies feature an entertaining story, but the fundamental elements of the writing itself are subpar and poorly crafted. The temporal works of our society’s current politicians, athletes, and celebrities fail to incorporate general wisdom or relatable life stories that establish a direct connection with the audience and contextualize the subject matter so much that in a few years, the works may become obsolete in the eyes of the American public. A variety of factors contribute to a book’s longevity and success, just as the case with songs, fashions, and even sports. Predicting what will achieve longevity in our society is almost impossible. Perhaps current sensations do indeed contain the gravity and wit to captivate the audience’s attention throughout time. While I prefer the memoirs of Mary Karr, Joan Didion, and the likes, I wonder how the rise of popular culture will affect the literary memoir. Will the substantial works of Didion and Karr withstand the test of time, like the memoirs by Mark Twain and Ulysses S. Grant?

What do you think? Which type of memoir do you prefer? Will the memoir greats, like Mary Karr, become overshadowed by reality television stars? Where do you see the practice of self-writing in 10 years?

Summer Reading. The dreaded assignment of elementary to high school students. The last day of school celebrations were halted as the teachers handed each of us our summer reading list. We scoffed at the reading requirements, sticking our tongues out at the teachers and singing the lyrics of Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall” as the bus pulled out of the school parking lot. The reading list ranged from three to four required books, none of which sounded particularly interesting to any student but contained a hidden element of “educational value” that our young minds desperately needed. A bit of brain stimuli, if you will, amongst the hours of television, video games, and neighborhood debauchery we partook in during the holiday months. And did any of us read the required books in a timely manner, spreading the novels out evenly over the summer months? Of course not. We neglected the reading until about two weeks before school started when our parents realized that we had not yet started our assignments, and the authority figures took away our outdoor privileges until we finished our reading list.

Every summer I asked myself, why did the teachers pick such boring books? In elementary school we read short chapter books about foreign cultures or American history that strengthened our reading skills. Moving to middle and high school, we read more specific books, meddling in categories that ranged from history to science to foreign affairs. I remember struggling through Michael Shaara’s The Killer Angels, failing to connect with the historical plot about the Civil War. The teachers chose the books as mechanisms to prepare us for the year ahead and to broaden our outlook on the world at large. Some of the required books did just that, but the fact that they were summer reading books turned all of us off and, being the rebellious teenagers that we were, neglected the books and chose to spend our free time doing other activities. When we returned to school in the fall and the summer reading quizzes and projects were assigned, we panicked and turned to SparkNotes for help. We each had read bits and pieces of the books and from group discussions knew the general plot, so we pulled our resources together to study for the summer reading quizzes and to create a creative project for our teachers. My senior year I struggled to create a soundtrack that coincided with the plot of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, gathering information about the dense text from class discussions and online synopses to develop the subpar playlist that failed to describe the novel.

My attitude towards summer reading has changed completely since being in college. During the school year, I have no time to read books of my personal choice. My summer reading list expands throughout the year as I discover new, exciting books that capture my attention, promising to read each one over the summer months. As an English major, I read all the time—sometimes more than I would like. Reading for literature classes consumes my time, and by the time I have finished my required reading I find that my eyes are too tired to read my personal books when I return home from the library each night. I get through one or two pages before falling asleep with my book on my chest, getting through a chapter a month—if I’m lucky.

Some books on my current list are ones that were assigned in my English classes but that I did not get the chance to finish because of timing and workload. All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy earned its spot during my Cowboys and Indians class this winter. I am eager for summer to start so I can finally pick up the book collecting dust on my bedside table that I began reading over spring break but have not gotten the chance to finish since school resumed. I am excited for summer to read a book solely of my choosing without conducting a literary analysis on its plot or rhetorical elements—just to enjoy the book for what it is.

Looking back I wished I paid more attention to the books I was supposed to read in high school for summer reading. I did not know it at the time, but they were actually good books of substantial quality. I remember rebelling against the summer reading list, refusing to read the assigned novels and only selecting books of my choosing, ones that I knew I would enjoy until the last page.

The required summer reading of elementary, middle, and high school worked in reverse. The list I once dreaded so much now gives me great excitement as I turn to my list and decide which book to select first. My list includes a variety of books, ranging from Pat Conroy to William Faulkner. Whether I’m on a beach or snuggled in my bed, I am excited to dive into a new great story. Perhaps it is because instead of reading for form and theme, I am reading for that personal connection with the text, playing more attention to the way the book makes me feel rather than technical elements that comprise it.

So, what’s on your summer reading list?