Dissertationen zum Thema „Nonfiction poetry“

If Not the Body is a collection of poems centered around the physical, female body—the body in peril, the body as continuation, the body as revelation, the body as variable. Tracing both a literal and metaphorical lineage over five sections, these poems reckon with a personal, familial, and regional history in an attempt to answer the collections’ repeated questions: “What am I made of?” and “If illness uglies the world, / what redeems it?” Drawing from personal experience, family history, and reckoning with mathematic, logical, and temporal limitations, Null Hypothesis: Essays focuses on what it means to embody, to experience. With particular attention to and emphasis on the self-consciousness of writing, these essays attempt to exemplify the inevitable frameshift afforded by illness, and how our bodies, our selves, our relationships, faith, and even our memories—as embodied things—manifest and matter in the corporeal world.

OFFSHORE is a collection of lyric essays that examines the intersections between human cultures and the natural world. The essays inspect issues of identity and belonging in different geographic, cultural, and political landscapes. Part one of the book centers on the cultural and natural landscapes of Hawaii and Japan. Part two explores interpersonal relationships in Montana. And part three focuses on social justice issues in Nicaragua and Florida. Each of the essays in this collection balances intellectual exploration with personal narrative and poetic description, allowing the essays to be simultaneously concept-driven while maintaining lyric force.

The poetry collection in four sections features pieces concerned with memory, particularly of the author’s childhood in Ireland. Difficult family relationships as well as early romantic failures are prominent obsessions. Landscapes and careful portraits of characters recur. Travel to Eastern Europe and within the author’s adopted United States give the opportunity to meditate on larger issues and spans of time. Domestic pleasures and the struggle to be a good parent and husband provide the ultimate trajectory of the work. The nonfiction memoir consists of eight essays which tackle among other topics a failed first marriage, a return visit to the author’s high school in Dublin, an analysis of how the dead come back to haunt us in the everyday, and a mirroring of colonial exploration in contemporary lives. The common thread is the many ways “home” can be understood and run away from.

On Earth is a collection of poems celebrating, investigating, and documenting human relationships, spiritual devotion, and both natural and cultivated environments. The focus of all five sections is largely agricultural and botanical, reflecting often on the writer’s experience of farming in Maryland and South Carolina. Onionlight is a long-form segmented essay that leaps between diverse topics including gastronomy, the agricultural and ethnobotanical history of onions, the history and culture of Bermuda, scallop shell fossils found in present-day Virginia, bulb flowers in the Amaryllidaceae family, intimate relationships, personal history, love, marriage, the specific history of the Vidalia onion, and farm experiences in the South. Short “onion epigraphs” from writers like C.D. Wright, Mary Oliver, Lucille Clifton, and Carol Ann Duffy link the individual segments.

This is a book-length, creative nonfiction collection of essays with a critical introduction. These essays are illustrating the conflict of fitting within socially-formed identities. In theme, this collection explores class, gender, and sexuality of the self. Each section is introduced with a brief reflection which links the essays together.

“I Remember Myself” is a hybrid memoir told through poetry and prose. It tells the story of a young woman struggling to establish herself as an adult whose life is interrupted by chronic pain. The reader follows her relationships, along with her physical, mental, emotional and spiritual journeys through illness and grief. The work explores identity, the nature of the self, and the boundaries between reality and imagination.

Wires and Light is an experimental story cycle composed of fiction and hybrid pieces, which blend poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction together. The characters in these pieces are propelled by uncertainty and a strong desire to be connected to places, people. If these characters do find the connections they are searching for, most of these "joining" moments are fleeting. A girl, straight out of high school, misses her "wonder boy," befriends a woman nearly a decade older, fists her in the desert while California's on fire. A woman who dives horses off the Atlantic City Steel Pier is forced to leave her glamorous, dangerous career, which has been her entire life. The same woman meets a grieving mother years later on a train, wrestles with the idea of loving this woman, tries to understand the wall between them. A boy loses his virginity and has trouble understanding the power of his body. A young girl loses her blue horse, her best friend. Years later the same girl will deal with depression and self-mutilation, and will heal on her own. She will meet a child in a coffee shop and help her heal, too. These characters yearn for love, freedom and wholeness, and although the search is painful, they must learn to find happiness by accepting the presence of pain. These pieces are intended to show how pain affects the body, how wires can bind bodies and light can burn skin, but they don't have to. Wires can be used to collect love, keep it fastened and safe, like a guiding light.
ID: 029809186; System requirements: World Wide Web browser and PDF reader.; Mode of access: World Wide Web.; Includes book list (p. 147-151); Thesis (M.F.A.)--University of Central Florida, 2011.; Includes bibliographical references (p. 146).
M.F.A.
Masters
English
Arts and Humanities
Creative Writing

Sonder is an exploration of the relationship between digital media and graphic design through the creation of print and digital publications. At it’s very foundation, Sonder is a travel magazine with both a physical print publication and a digital publication designed for a tablet. It includes photography, articles, poetry, and travel tips. The print and the digital versions contain the same content, but explore different methods of presentation.

Half-Virgin is a cross-genre collection of essays, short stories, and poems about the humor, pain, and occasional glory of journeying into adulthood but not quite getting there. The works in this collection seek to create a definition of a term, "half-virgin," that I coined in the process of writing this thesis. Among the possibilities explored are: an individual who embarks upon sexual activity for the first time and does not achieve orgasm; an individual who has reached orgasm through consensual sexual activity, but has remained uncertain about what he or she is doing; and the curious sensation of being half-child, half-adult. Ultimately, I believe, a "half-virgin" possesses all of these traits. One of the goals of the collection is to scramble the prototypical coming-of-age story into bits and parts and halves. Among the approaches included are earnest memoir (the real and metaphorical costumes a young couple wears on Halloween), character-driven fiction (the life story of Marlow, a college track star who ends up the unwitting inspiration for Super Mario Brothers), and narrative experiments (a tongue-in-cheek creative writing syllabus and a bullet pointed resume of sexual conquests). By exploring the untidy fragments in love, lust, and human connection in these works, Half-Virgin aspires to find wholeness through the jagged adventures of growing up.
ID: 029809539; System requirements: World Wide Web browser and PDF reader.; Mode of access: World Wide Web.; Includes reading list (p. 156-159).; Thesis (M.F.A.)--University of Central Florida, 2011.
M.F.A.
Masters
English
Arts and Humanities
Creative Writing

Samuel Beckett penned novels, short stories, poetry, stage plays, radio plays, and scripts—and he did each in a way that blended genre, challenged the norms of creative writing, and surprised audiences around the globe. His experimental approach to creative writing included the use of absurdism, genre-hybridization, and ergodicism, which led to Beckett fundamentally changing the approach to creative writing. His aesthetics have trickled down through the years and can be seen in contemporary works, including Aimee Bender’s short story collection The Girl in the Flammable Skirt and Mark Z. Danielewski’s novel House of Leaves[1]. By examining these works in comparison to Beckett, this project hopes to illuminate the effects of Beckett’s experimentation in form and genre on contemporary creative writing. [1] The word ‘house’ appears in blue to honor Danielewski’s decision to have the word printed in that color each time it appears in his novel.

“The Bedroom and the Barnyard: Zoomorphic Lust Through Territory, Procedure, and Shelter in ‘The Miller’s Tale’” is an academic endeavor that takes Chaucer’s zoomorphic metaphors and similes and analyzes them in a sense that reveals the chaos of what is human and what is animal tendency. The academic work is expressed in the adjunct creative project, Haunchebones, a 10-minute drama that echoes the tale and its zoomorphic influences, while presenting the content in a stylized play influenced by Theatre of the Absurd and artwork from the medieval and early renaissance period.

You Don't Have to be Good, is a nonfiction collection of prose, poetry and graphic memoir set in New Orleans, central Florida, and points in between. In this coming-of-age memoir, I recall the abrupt end of my dad's life, the 24 years of my life in which he was alive, and the years after his death—remembering him while living without him in his hometown of New Orleans. Along the way there are meditations on language, race, gender, dreams, addiction, and ecology. My family and I encounter Hurricane Katrina and Mardi Gras, and at least one shuttle launch. These are the stories I find myself telling at parties, and also those I've never voiced until now.

More than 2.6 million troops have deployed in support of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Still, surveys reveal that more than half feel “disconnected” from their civilian counterparts, and this feeling persists despite ongoing efforts, in the academy and elsewhere, to help returning veterans overcome physical and mental wounds, seek an education, and find meaningful ways to contribute to society after taking off the uniform. This dissertation argues that Iraq and Afghanistan War veterans struggle with reassimilation because they lack healthy, complete models of veteran identity to draw upon in their postwar lives, a problem they’re working through collectively in literature and artwork. The war veteran—returning home transformed by the harsh realities of military training and service, having seen humanity at its extremes, and interacting with a society apathetic toward his or her experiences—should engage in the act of storytelling. This act of sharing experiences and crafting-self subverts stereotypes. Storytelling, whether in a book read by millions, or in a single conversation with a close family member, should instruct civilians on the topic of human resiliency; it should instruct veterans on the topic of homecoming. But typically, veterans do not tell stories. Civilians create barriers to storytelling in the form of hollow platitudes—“thank you for your service” or “I can never understand what you’ve been through”—disconnected from the meaning of wartime service itself. The dissonance between veteran and civilian only becomes more complicated when one considers the implicit demands and expectations attached to patriotism. These often well-intentioned gestures and government programs fail to convey a message of appreciation because they refuse to convey a message of acceptance; the exceptional treatment of veterans by larger society implies also that they are insufficient, broken, or incomplete. So, many veterans chose conformity and silence, adopting one of two identities available to them: the forever pitied “Wounded Warrior” or the superficially praised “Hero.” These identities are not complete. They’re not even identities as much as they are collections of rumors, misrepresentations, and expectations of conformity. Once an individual veteran begins unconsciously performing the “Wounded Warrior” or “Hero” character, the number of potential outcomes available in that individual’s life is severely diminished. Society reinforces a feeling among veterans that they are “different.” This shared experience has resulted in commiseration, camaraderie, and also the proliferation of veterans’ creative communities. As storytellers, the members of these communities are restoring meaning to veteran-civilian discourse by privileging the nuanced experiences of the individual over stereotypes and emotionless rhetoric. They are instructing on the topics of war and homecoming, producing fictional and nonfictional representations of the veteran capable of competing with stereotypes, capable of reassimilation. The Introduction establishes the existence of veteran culture, deconstructs notions of there being a single or binary set of veteran identities, and critiques the social and cultural rhetoric used to maintain symbolic boundaries between veterans and civilians. It begins by establishing an approach rooted in interdisciplinary literary theory, taking veteran identity as its topic of consideration and the American unconscious as the text it seeks to examine, asking readers to suspend belief in patriotic rhetoric long enough to critically examine veteran identity as an apparatus used to sell war to each generation of new recruits. Patriotism, beyond the well-meaning gestures and entitlements afforded to veterans, also results in feelings of “difference,” in the veteran feeling apart from larger society. The inescapability of veteran “difference” is a trait which sets it apart from other cultures, and it is one bolstered by inaccurate and, at times, offensive portrayals of veterans in mass media and Hollywood films such as The Manchurian Candidate (1962), First Blood (1982), or Taxi Driver (1976). To understand this inescapability the chapter engages with theories of race, discussing the Korean War veteran in Home (2012) and other works by Toni Morrison to directly and indirectly explore descriptions of “difference” by African Americans and “others” not in positions of power. From there, the chapter traces veteran identity back to the Italian renaissance, arguing that modern notions of veteran identity are founded upon fears of returning veterans causing chaos and disorder. At the same time, writers such as Sebastian Junger, who are intimately familiar with veteran culture, repeatedly emphasize the camaraderie and “tribal” bonds found among members of the military, and instead of creating symbolic categories in which veterans might exist exceptionally as “Heroes,” or pitied as “Wounded Warriors,” the chapter argues that the altruistic nature which leads recruits to war, their capabilities as leaders and educators, and the need of larger society for examples of human resiliency are more appropriate starting points for establishing veteran identity. The Introduction is followed by an independent “Example” section, a brief examination of a student veteran named “Bingo,” one who demonstrates an ability to challenge, even employ veteran stereotypes to maintain his right to self-definition. Bingo’s story, as told in a “spotlight” article meant to attract student veterans to a college campus, portrays the veteran as a “Wounded Warrior” who overcomes mental illness and the scars of war through education, emerging as an exceptional example—a “Hero”—that other student veterans can model by enrolling at the school. Bingo’s story sets the stage for close examinations of the “Hero” and the “Wounded Warrior” in the first and second chapters. Chapter One deconstructs notions of heroism, primarily the belief that all veterans are “Heroes.” The chapter examines military training and indoctrination, Medal of Honor award citations, and film examples such as All Quiet on the Western Front (1930), Heroes for Sale (1933), Sergeant York (1941), and Top Gun (1986) to distinguish between actual feats of heroism and “Heroes” as they are presented in patriotic rhetoric. The chapter provides the Medal of Honor citations attached to awards presented to Donald Cook, Dakota Meyer, and Kyle Carpenter, examining the postwar lives of Meyer and Carpenter, identifying attempts by media and government officials to appropriate heroism—to steal the right to self-definition possessed by these men. Among these Medal of Honor recipients one finds two types of heroism: Sacrificing Heroes give something of themselves to protect others; Attacking Heroes make a difference during battle offensively. Enduring Heroes, the third type of heroism discussed in the chapter, are a new construct. Colloquially, and for all intents and purposes, an Enduring Hero is simply a veteran who enjoys praise and few questions. Importantly, veterans enjoy the “Hero Treatment” in exchange for silence and conforming to larger narratives which obfuscate past wars and pave the way for new ones. This chapter engages with theorists of gender—such as Jack Judith Halberstam, whose Female Masculinities (1998) anticipates the agency increasingly available to women through military service; like Leo Braudy, whose From Chivalry to Terrorism (2003) traces the historical relationship between war and gender before commenting on the evolution of military masculinity—to discuss the relationship between heroism and agency, begging a question: What do veterans have to lose from the perpetuation of stereotypes? This question frames a detailed examination of William A. Wellman’s film, Heroes for Sale (1933), in the chapter’s final section. This story of stolen valor and the Great Depression depicts the homecoming of a WWI veteran separated from his heroism. The example, when combined with a deeper understanding of the intersection between veteran identity and gender, illustrates not only the impact of stolen valor in the life of a legitimate hero, but it also comments on the destructive nature of appropriation, revealing the ways in which a veteran stereotypes rob service men and women of the right to draw upon memories of military service which complete with those stereotypes. The military “Hero” occupies a moral high ground, but most conceptions of military “Heroes” are socially constructed advertisements for war. Real heroes are much rarer. And, as the Medal of Honor recipients discussed in the chapter reveal, they, too, struggle with lifelong disabilities as well as constant attempts by society to appropriate their narratives. Chapter Two traces the evolution of the modern “Wounded Warrior” from depictions of cowardice in Stephen Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage (1895), to the denigration of World War I veterans afflicted with Shell Shock, to Kevin Powers’s Iraq War novel, The Yellow Birds (2012). As with “Heroes,” “Wounded Warriors” perform a stereotype in place of an authentic, individualized identity, and the chapter uses Walt Kowalski, the protagonist of Clint Eastwood’s film, Gran Torino (2008), as its major example. The chapter discusses “therapeutic culture,” Judith Butler’s work on identity-formation, and Eva Illouz’s examination of a culture obsessed with trauma to comment on veteran performances of victimhood. Butler’s attempts to conceive of new identities absent the influence of systems of definition rooted in the state, in particular, reveal power in the opposite of silence, begging another question: What do civilians have to gain from the perpetuation of veteran stereotypes? Largely, the chapter finds, the “Wounded Warrior” persists in the minds of civilians who fear the veteran’s capacity for violence. A broken, damaged veteran is less of a threat. The story of the “Wounded Warrior” is not one of sacrifice. The “Wounded Warrior” exists after sacrifice, beyond any measure of “honor” achieved in uniform. “Wounded Warriors” are not expected to find a cure because the wound itself is an apparatus of the state that is commodified and injected into the currency of emotional capitalism. This chapter argues that military service and a damaged psyche need not always occur together. Following the second chapter, a close examination of “The Bear That Stands,” a short story by Suzanne S. Rancourt which confronts the author’s sexual assault while serving in the Marines, offers an alternative to both the “Hero” and the “Wounded Warrior” stereotypes. Rancourt, a veteran “Storyteller,” gives testimony of that crime, intervening in social conceptions of veteran identity to include a female perspective. As with the example of Bingo, the author demonstrates an innate ability to recognize and challenge the stereotypes discussed in the first and second chapters. This “Example” sets the stage for a more detailed examination of “Veteran Storytellers” and their communities in the final chapter. Chapter Three looks for examples of veteran “difference,” patriotism, the “Wounded Warrior,” and the “Hero” in nonfiction, fiction, and artwork emerging from the creative arts community, Military Experience and the Arts, an organization which provides workshops, writing consultation, and publishing venues to veterans and their families. The chapter examines veteran “difference” in a short story by Bradley Johnson, “My Life as a Soldier in the ‘War on Terror.’” In “Cold Day in Bridgewater,” a work of short fiction by Jerad W. Alexander, a veteran must confront the inescapability of that difference as well as expectations of conformity from his bigoted, civilian bartender. The final section analyzes artwork by Tif Holmes and Giuseppe Pellicano, which deal with the problems of military sexual assault and the effects of war on the family, respectively. Together, Johnson, Alexander, Holmes, and Pellicano demonstrate skills in recognizing stereotypes, crafting postwar identities, and producing alternative representations of veteran identity which other veterans can then draw upon in their own homecomings. Presently, no unified theory of veteran identity exists. This dissertation begins that discussion, treating individual performances of veteran identity, existing historical, sociological, and psychological scholarship about veterans, and cultural representations of the wars they fight as equal parts of a single text. Further, it invites future considerations of veteran identity which build upon, challenge, or refute its claims. Conversations about veteran identity are the opposite of silence; they force awareness of war’s uncomfortable truths and homecoming’s eventual triumphs. Complicating veteran identity subverts conformity; it provides a steady stream of traits, qualities, and motivations that veterans use to craft postwar selves. The serious considerations of war and homecoming presented in this text will be useful for Iraq and Afghanistan War veterans attempting to piece together postwar identities; they will be useful to scholars hoping to facilitate homecoming for future generations of war veterans. Finally, the Afterword to the dissertation proposes a program for reassimilation capable of harnessing the veteran’s symbolic and moral authority in such a way that self-definition and homecoming might become two parts of a single act.

This thesis and its corresponding art installation, Lessons from Ziggy, attempts to deconstruct the variables prevalent within several complex systems, analyze their transformations, and propose a methodology for reasserting the soap box within the display pedestal. In this text, there are several key and specific examples of the transformation of various signifiers (i.e. media-bred fear’s transformation into a political tactic of surveillance, contemporary freneticism’s transformation into complacency, and community’s transformation into nationalism as a state weapon). In this essay, all of these concepts are contextualized within the exponential growth of new technologies. That is to say, all of these semiotic developments must be framed within the post-Internet sphere.

In his essay collection Another Future, Alan Gilbert argues that culture, at it’s best, “interrogates the gap between the ideal and the real.” Ad copy, public text, Hallmark cards, narrative film, etc flood ‘the masses’ with the ideal: the dream of love, the dream of the new, happiness, happiness, happiness, while it purports to be ‘real.’ Conversely, a fair portion of art positions itself staunchly against the marketplace, it too claiming ‘realness,’ a superiority to ‘representation,’ a championing of ‘authenticity’ and ‘the individual experience.’ Art and poetry can be a venue to complicate this dichotomy, demystify all cultural products, and question the usage of massive words such as ‘real,’ ‘dream,’ ‘new,’ love.’ Maybe the most effective way to interrogate the gap between ‘ideal’ and ‘real’ is to read “the social poetically and poetry socially.” While post-modernism concentrated on experimentation with form and bridging a ‘high’ and ‘low’ divide, Gilbert argues that what comes next is an emphasis on the “social ramifications of cultural products.” As Kenneth Goldsmith says, “Context is the new content.” But I’m not interested in simplistic Conceptualist copy and paste. The function of art shifts to an aggregation and recontextualization of information: how ‘ideal’ and ‘real’ are represented, implemented, and manipulated across various social contexts. Artist John Baldessari asks: “Where does art reside? Is it physically there in that painting? Is it in my head? Could it be a trace memory? Could it be a photo? What is necessary for it? Can you just talk about it?” For me, there’s little difference between creating a cultural product, writing ‘about’ someone else’s cultural product, or interviewing artists about cultural products they made. Warhol thought of his body of work as equally visual and vocal: Andy is not Andy without his interviews. Conversation as poem. The conversation in the media around a poem as poem. Example: a poem by Kristen Stewart, a Hollywood actress, cannot be divorced from the reactions and retaliations it spawned. The content of Stewart’s poem, her word choice or where she broke the line fades to the background as voices across the Internet use the poem as an opportunity to judge and humiliate her. I’m concerned with how capital P Poetry is represented in the mainstream, how people experience poetry outside the context of the small press world, and reclaiming such experiences as Poetry. Can a commercial that features Whitman be labelled as a poem? Can my writing about how Whitman is represented in an iPad commercial be a poem? Or, how does listening to a poem while observing one’s surroundings influence one’s experience of the poem? In the ‘I listen’ series, I try to acknowledge that poems do not create a world, but exist within one. And I think of this book as lyric poetry, but my ‘lyric I’ must account for itself and its contexts. It must interview and interrogate itself. Even knowing what the lyric I is requires a privileged position. This must be acknowledged, and leads to a reckoning with former selves, former heroes. The ‘multitudes’ I contain are not my fellow citizens, but all the cultural products I’ve consumed in thirty years and how those products and individuals have changed me. I’m approaching cultural products and their contexts from a subjective, lyric, populist lens, trying to articulate each subject’s intention, because for me it’s in the absurdity of intention where the humor, or the poetry, or the ‘real,’ or ‘profound experience of art’ resides.