Eileen Myles
Autor de Chelsea Girls
Sobre El Autor
Eileen Myles is an American poet and writer born on December 9, 1949 in Cambridge, Massachusetts. She is a graduate of the University of Massachusetts Boston (1971). She moved to New York City in 1974 where she participated in workshops and worked with and for several famous poets. Her career mostrar más includes working as Artistic Director of St. Mark's Poetry Project, serving as Professor of Writing at the University of California, San Diego, and Visiting Writer at seven colleges. Myles's first book, The Irony of the Leash, was published in 1978. Some of her other work include A Fresh Young Voice From the Plains, Not Me, Inferno, Maxfield Parrish/early and new poems, School of Fish, Skies, On My Way, Snowflake / Different Streets, and The Importance of Being Iceland. She has also written articles, essays, plays and other works of fiction and nonfiction. She founded the Lost Texans Collective with Elinor Nauen and Barbara McKay and performed in group and solo performances. She has received numerous awards for her work. Her latest awards include The Clark Prize for Excellence in Arts Writing (2015) and The Lambda Pioneer Award (2016). (Bowker Author Biography) mostrar menos
Nota de desambiguación:
(eng) Note that Myles uses "they/them" (identifying as plural femme). http://eileenmyles.com/bio2.php
Créditos de la imagen: Credit: David Shankbone, Sept. 14, 2008, Brooklyn Book Festival
Obras de Eileen Myles
Obras relacionadas
A Woman Like That: Lesbian and Bisexual Writers Tell Their Coming Out Stories (1999) — Contribuidor — 242 copias
Light the Dark: Writers on Creativity, Inspiration, and the Artistic Process (2017) — Contribuidor — 138 copias
Pills, Thrills, Chills, and Heartache: Adventures in the First Person (2004) — Contribuidor — 67 copias
It's So You: 35 Women Write About Personal Expression Through Fashion and Style (2007) — Contribuidor — 52 copias
Take My Advice: Letters to the Next Generation from People Who Know a Thing or Two (2002) — Contribuidor — 45 copias
Eleven More American Women Poets in the 21st Century: Poetics Across North America (2012) — Contribuidor — 11 copias
Coming Attractions: An Anthology of American Poets in Their Twenties (1980) — Contribuidor — 8 copias
Saturday Morning, Vol. II no. 1 & 2 (New York City Issue) — Contribuidor — 3 copias
CUZ #1 — Autor — 2 copias
Talisman: A Journal of Contemporary Poetry and Poetics, Number 1, The Alice Notley Issue — Contribuidor — 1 copia
Telephone 14 — Contribuidor — 1 copia
Etiquetado
Conocimiento común
- Nombre canónico
- Myles, Eileen
- Fecha de nacimiento
- 1949
- Género
- female
- Nacionalidad
- USA
- Lugar de nacimiento
- Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA
- Lugares de residencia
- Boston, Massachusetts, USA
San Diego, Californië, USA
New York, New York, USA - Educación
- University of Massachusetts, Boston
- Aviso de desambiguación
- Note that Myles uses "they/them" (identifying as plural femme). http://eileenmyles.com/bio2.php
Miembros
Reseñas
Cool For You por Eileen Myles
Experimental without being difficult to read--Myles plays with the form of the memoir, switching up details and messing around with language in this work that is situated between fiction and autobiography. The end result is more fun than not, especially considering some of the grim content in this story.
“you become
in your
life her
recording
device” — Eileen Myles
Fully half of all poetry has been ruined by fucking. But the fact that "the vagina of my life is so stretched out" has nothing to do with this. (Given the eschatological possibility that Jesus/Anubis will be measuring our life against the weight of a feather, perhaps the pulled tissue is already in its most Redeemed form . . . ) That one has not yet gotten enough of it, or has just had too much, or is putting it into the poems, or is doing something stimulating instead of writing verse is what I'm thinking of. (Though considering the vast productions halted by these pre-occupations, one thinks most of these projects would not have been much good anyway.)
Myles, late in life, is still doing the "too burnt, too gay" for "musty brown pleasure" thing, remaining exceedingly good at it. Writing a kind of spoken verse punctuated with line breaks, impossible to memorize (this appears not to be the objective), frequent remarkable one-liners, and often humorous (greatest strength) in this forgettable collection. A detached style, concerned with ways-of-being punctuated with occasional funny observation-in-moment, is not compatible with explicit politics (ideology). We are less amused by Myles's advocacy with the neighborhood association against the construction of a high-rise over a beloved park than by anything else in the collection — seems forced as nothing else does.
Fully half of all poetry has been ruined by dog ownership. Out of 1000 poems being written around the world every minute, probably 999 are related to dogs. (So, by the numbers, maybe not all of them are bad). The fact that we are reminded, "honey’s safe and butter’s safe," doesn't mean these poems have all been ruined yet.
And she is doing a trick or two as well (another way in which Myles is not like an old dog). Soliciting the terms and parts of speech, such that at the end of a phrase we realize a tricky noun has been a verb all along
"I’ll never use you
in a poem
I’ll use everything
& it will cover
you & the
egg crinkles
& the toaster
moans
it was trying"
Superior Selections:
SECRET LANGUAGE (daughter poem and phone poem)
"in here you’re like a clown that
squeezing the long internal history of women
[. . .]
"she would sit there on the phone being Polish for hours"
[. . .]
"being mum
you have me now mother have a big manhattan mom but she wanted a son
MICE (funny dog poem)
"they see a cluster of small rubber ducks & scraps of broken shells & think I’ll shit there "
[. . .]
"they’re unclean anyone would say isn’t it why I must kill them
but I’m unclean too isn’t that why they’re here"
PUT MY HOUSE (love poem and dog poem)
(unquoteable)
Selected Phrases:
"Perhaps this is the start in the latest of my new breed of very bad poems."
"made that melon bright"
"black barns hold my contentment"
"and I was making a mountain of sleep"
“you were looking very good on instagram yesterday”
"there’s a lot of suffering here in this room."
“i’m thinking how funny the yeats line on his tombstone”
“there’s no way to see everything in a pink painting”
“low grounded thing they think”
“the nothing spot where a tree’s so long ago been”
“cat jumps
into a dumpster
shopping”
“but that isn’t how you feel. waiting world violent friend."… (más)
dropped at p. 150. i never drop books but i hated the writing style so much, i just couldnt take it anymore.
1 
femmedyke | 10 reseñas más. | Sep 27, 2023 |
femmedyke | 10 reseñas más. | Sep 27, 2023 | 
On The Death of Robert Lowell
What ever happened to all those middle-of-the-class kids from high school. You only spoke to them once or twice. Born to be losers, you thought, if that element of young-adult fiction was to be believed. Or obliterated. You forgot their names. Now and again when you look them up on LinkedIn you are always surprised to find them alive . . . and employed. And when you chance to encounter them again, in the strange context you imagine, in which they find themselves born instead in the 1940's, it's possible that they would continue to inhabit, even now, that time nearly fifty years ago which was their heyday, and to continue to talk, repetitiously, about the famous people they had known and the women they had fucked, such that you would perceive, for a dull moment, that they had not yet managed to write themselves out from under the weight of their previous novel.… (más)
Oh, I don't give a shit.
He was an old white haired man
Insensate beyond belief and
Filled with much anxiety about his imagined
Pain. Not that I'd know
I hate fucking wasps.
The guy was a loon.
Signed up for Spring Semester at MacLean's
A really lush retreat among the pines and
Hippy attendants. Ray Charles also
Once rested there.
So did James Taylor . . .
the famous, as we know, are nuts.
Take Robert Lowell.
The old white haired coot
Fucking Dead. —Eileen Myles
What ever happened to all those middle-of-the-class kids from high school. You only spoke to them once or twice. Born to be losers, you thought, if that element of young-adult fiction was to be believed. Or obliterated. You forgot their names. Now and again when you look them up on LinkedIn you are always surprised to find them alive . . . and employed. And when you chance to encounter them again, in the strange context you imagine, in which they find themselves born instead in the 1940's, it's possible that they would continue to inhabit, even now, that time nearly fifty years ago which was their heyday, and to continue to talk, repetitiously, about the famous people they had known and the women they had fucked, such that you would perceive, for a dull moment, that they had not yet managed to write themselves out from under the weight of their previous novel.… (más)
Listas
Bull Tongue (3)
Premios
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- ISBNs
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- Idiomas
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- Favorito
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