Hello there, Christine. I've been meaning to write you. First of you, I wanted you to know that you are the reason why I am now on Substack, so thank you for publishing this newsletter. Second, your thoughts here of relating your writing your novel as birthing a child reminds me of Anne Bradstreet’s poem, “The Author to Her Book.” I am not saying that your work is an “ill-form’d offspring of [your] feeble brain,” but that I can appreciate the metaphor here as well as the concerns any writer can have of her work. I don't think that I can be of much critical help yet, but please know that your intro makes me want to read more. Third, your reference to figs points me to another poet, one of my favs: Naomi Shihab-Nye. You probably know that this poet was born in the United States of an American mother and a Palestinian father and often points back to the Middle East in her work, attempting reconciliatory moves amongst peoples. In 19 Varieties of Gazell: Poems of the Middle East, Naomi Shihab-Nye reminds us that her family lived in Old Jerusalem and got along with neighbors who were Palestinian, Jewish, Greek, or Armenian, but that changed in 1948. The family moved and settled in the United States and certain objects of the homeland—such as the fig and the olive-- became symbols in this poet’s work. The last stanza of her poem entitled “My Father and the Fig Tree” goes like this:
The last time he moved, I had a phone call,
my father, in Arabic, chanting a song
I’d never heard. “What’s that?”
He took me out to the new yard.
There, in the middle of Dallas, Texas,
a tree with the largest, fattest,
sweetest figs in the world.
“It’s a figtree song!” he said,
Plucking his fruits like ripe tokens,
Emblems, assurance
of a world that was always his own.
Again, all that to say, your brief intro makes me want to read more and inspires me to also think of poets.
I'm so glad my intro is enticing. Encouraging to hear.
Also, the poets and their poems!! Bradstreet is so apt. Very similar emotion as we all send things out into the world. I'm not familiar with much of Naomi Shihab-Nye's poetry. Thank you for including bits about her background. So fitting. "My Father and the Fig Tree" made me smile. I need to read more of her work!
So very happy that you continue to carry the passion to birth the beauty inside of you and very excited that Amos is coming present, more fully!!! Introduction is so good!!
Hello there, Christine. I've been meaning to write you. First of you, I wanted you to know that you are the reason why I am now on Substack, so thank you for publishing this newsletter. Second, your thoughts here of relating your writing your novel as birthing a child reminds me of Anne Bradstreet’s poem, “The Author to Her Book.” I am not saying that your work is an “ill-form’d offspring of [your] feeble brain,” but that I can appreciate the metaphor here as well as the concerns any writer can have of her work. I don't think that I can be of much critical help yet, but please know that your intro makes me want to read more. Third, your reference to figs points me to another poet, one of my favs: Naomi Shihab-Nye. You probably know that this poet was born in the United States of an American mother and a Palestinian father and often points back to the Middle East in her work, attempting reconciliatory moves amongst peoples. In 19 Varieties of Gazell: Poems of the Middle East, Naomi Shihab-Nye reminds us that her family lived in Old Jerusalem and got along with neighbors who were Palestinian, Jewish, Greek, or Armenian, but that changed in 1948. The family moved and settled in the United States and certain objects of the homeland—such as the fig and the olive-- became symbols in this poet’s work. The last stanza of her poem entitled “My Father and the Fig Tree” goes like this:
The last time he moved, I had a phone call,
my father, in Arabic, chanting a song
I’d never heard. “What’s that?”
He took me out to the new yard.
There, in the middle of Dallas, Texas,
a tree with the largest, fattest,
sweetest figs in the world.
“It’s a figtree song!” he said,
Plucking his fruits like ripe tokens,
Emblems, assurance
of a world that was always his own.
Again, all that to say, your brief intro makes me want to read more and inspires me to also think of poets.
Thank you, thank you for reading, Michelle!
I'm so glad my intro is enticing. Encouraging to hear.
Also, the poets and their poems!! Bradstreet is so apt. Very similar emotion as we all send things out into the world. I'm not familiar with much of Naomi Shihab-Nye's poetry. Thank you for including bits about her background. So fitting. "My Father and the Fig Tree" made me smile. I need to read more of her work!
So very happy that you continue to carry the passion to birth the beauty inside of you and very excited that Amos is coming present, more fully!!! Introduction is so good!!
Celebrating! Thank you for reading!
Very excited to read further! I am already drawn in!
Yay! Thank you!