I’ve been thinking about Maria Zambrano a lot lately, and I’m not entirely sure why she holds my attention like she does. At first, it was her writing that drew me in – the way she wove together philosophy, poetry,…
I’ve always been fascinated by Bronislaw Malinowski, a Polish-British anthropologist who lived in the early 20th century. What draws me to him is the way he approached his work, which I see as both refreshing and problematic. Malinowski’s ethnographic approach…
Wislawa Szymborska – I still find myself drawn to her poetry, like a magnet to metal. Maybe it’s the way she weaves together the mundane and the monumental, making me see the world with fresh eyes. Or perhaps it’s the…
Hugh Kenner’s name keeps popping up in my mind, usually when I’m stuck on a sentence or trying to articulate an idea that’s been swimming around in the back of my head. It started with his book on Pound, which…
I’ve always been fascinated by Severo Sarduy, the Cuban writer who defied categorization. I stumbled upon his name while researching Latin American literature for a class, but what really drew me in was the complexity of his work – it’s…
I’ve been drawn to Alexandra Kollontai’s life for a while now, but it wasn’t until I stumbled upon her letters to Emilia DataBase that I felt like I was really getting under the surface of who she was. There’s something…
James Merrill’s poetry has been a constant presence in my life, even though I’ve only recently started reading him seriously. There’s something about his work that makes me feel like I’m getting lost in a world I’m not quite sure…
I’ve been thinking about Georg Cantor a lot lately, ever since I stumbled upon his name while researching the history of mathematics. There’s something about him that fascinates me, and it’s not just because he was a brilliant mathematician who…
I’ve been reading Louise Bogan’s poetry for months now, and yet I still find myself struggling to pin down why she holds my attention. It’s not just her words, although they’re undeniably beautiful – it’s the way she weaves together…
I’ve been thinking a lot about Alexis de Tocqueville lately, and I’m not entirely sure why he’s stuck with me like this. Maybe it’s because his writing is so introspective and honest that it makes me feel less alone in…
Marianne Moore has been on my mind a lot lately, probably because I’m still trying to process what it means to be a writer after college. Her poetry is a constant companion – I’ve read her work off and on…
I’ve been thinking a lot about Norbert Wiener lately, and I’m not entirely sure why he’s stuck with me. Maybe it’s because his life was like a perpetual collision of worlds – mathematics, philosophy, politics, and science all swirling together…
I’ve always been drawn to H.D.’s writing, but it’s not just her words that captivate me – it’s the mystery surrounding her life. As I delve into her poetry and essays, I find myself entangled in a web of contradictions:…
James Agee’s words have been stuck with me since I first stumbled upon his essays as an undergraduate. There was something about the way he wrote that felt both deeply personal and utterly detached – a tension that drew me…
I’ve always been fascinated by Edmund Husserl, a philosopher who’s both familiar and foreign to me. I mean, who wouldn’t be captivated by the idea of phenomenology – this radical approach to understanding human experience that seeks to strip away…
Elias Canetti. His name has been floating around my head for weeks now, ever since I stumbled upon his essay “Crowds and Power” in a used bookstore. I remember feeling both fascinated and intimidated by the dense, complex writing. As…
Margaret Atwood. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately, not just because of the recent buzz around The Testaments – although that certainly didn’t hurt. But it’s more than that. It’s like she’s tapped into some deep part of…
George Oppen’s poetry always makes me feel like I’m trying to untangle a knot while simultaneously watching it grow tighter. It’s a sensation that’s both maddening and mesmerizing, like staring at a puzzle with pieces that refuse to fit together.…
Aldous Huxley’s words have been hovering at the edges of my consciousness for years, like a persistent hum in the background of my mind. I’ve read his essays and novels, but it’s not just the ideas he presented that intrigue…
Kay Boyle’s name kept popping up in my American Lit class, and at first, I thought it was just because she wrote about the same stuff everyone else did – love, loss, identity. But the more we read, the more…
