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NewPages Book Reviews
June 2, 2008
Lost Books of the Odyssey :: O Woolly City :: I Am Death :: Woman's Guide to Mountain Climbing :: Bob, or Man on Boat :: Best of the Bellevue Literary Review :: A Man of Ideas :: Breaking It Down ::Translator's Diary :: Human Mind :: Ravel :: Double Header :: Oh, Don't Ask Why :: Proper Knowledge :: Do the Math
The Lost Books of the Odyssey
A novel by Zachary Mason
Starcherone Books, March 2008
Paperback: 256pp; $16.00
Reviewed by Josh Maday
Something wired very hard into the human psyche lights up at the notion of discovering hidden things, putting the pieces together and finally accessing occult knowledge – wisdom or treasure or whatever seems to be missing from human experience – things which, when uncovered, could possibly explain our present situation and hopefully unlock the power to choose our future with certainty. Zachary Mason touches, tickles, and strikes these wires in The Lost Books of the Odyssey and, in the end, creates nothing short of a synaptic fireworks display.
Winner of the 2007 Starcherone Fiction Prize, The Lost Books of the Odyssey is at once a mind-bending literary fractal system and an enthralling collection of tales. Both the tales and the work as a whole can be read on many levels, inter- and intratextually, their individual structures mirroring the pervasive cyclical, self-consuming rhythm of the overall work. The tales are often labyrinthine, beginning in medias res and soon folding back into themselves. The passage entitled "Endless City" demonstrates this most clearly, opening with Odysseus being suspected once again of deception and even treason:
Ignoring his lies, the captain of the guard marched Odysseus through the night and brought him before Agamemnon's throne. Agamemnon wearily lifted his head and in his face Odysseus saw festering pride and dull pugnacity, the spoils of a decade's martial failure. The king wavered, and in a harsh croak said, "I brought you here by stratagem, and now I question whether I was wise to do so. You are known for cunning but not for loyalty."
To which Odysseus replies (for the first or the eighth time, depending on how the tales are read), "Be patient and I will tell you the story," and by the end becomes caught in a vicious circle of his own telling. The Lost Books functions in the same way: the tales, fragments, retellings, recollections, and alternative versions often contradict and consume one another, offering revised accounts and intriguing possibilities. One sketch shows Homer on a ship as a passenger or crew member lying in a hammock à la Darwin on The Beagle. As he looks up at the ship's rigging and recounts the details of a story he has been composing, he falls asleep and dreams the essence of what would become The Odyssey. Meanwhile, another account entitled "The Iliad of Odysseus" suggests the authorship of Odysseus himself, embellishing here, twisting or omitting there, crafting a name and a legacy for himself.
Before I started reading The Lost Books, I figured I'd better refresh my familiarity with The Odyssey if I wanted to understand the references and allusions on which a book of this nature was sure to live and breathe. I was wrong. While even a rudimentary knowledge of The Odyssey will be helpful for catching the nuance Mason has crafted into The Lost Books, it is by no means a necessary prerequisite for understanding, and even less for enjoyment. The Lost Books is composed of one thrilling tale after another and seasoned with shorter fragments that are well-wrought prose poetry.
One of the most powerful pieces is among the handful focusing on Achilles, who in "Victory Lament" says, "I had not meant to do more than provoke [Agamemnon] into seeking out the greatest champions to kill me—that way I would know once and for all if I had any equal in the world." But, finding none, Achilles took the key Odysseus gave him, unlocked the "iron gates of heaven" and "trudged upward for some indeterminate duration" until he reached Heaven.
Here, finally, was true power to oppose me but to my lasting sorrow I had forgotten what failure was and my blade flickered through the hearts of my antagonists until I came before the Emperor of Heaven who continued to disdain me even as I cut through his excellent jade neck. He came crashing down from his high throne, mountain ranges wearing away on the distant Earth as he fell and fell and fell. Now I have taken his throne and read his book and the now docile devas flit about my shoulders, waiting, perhaps forever, for me to impart my wisdom, which is that I have learned nothing, know nothing, wish I had never picked up a sword, left my hut, been born.
This is only a glimpse of the powerful tales, fragments, and revisions that comprise The Lost Books of the Odyssey. Zachary Mason has written a book that could pass for an ur-text of The Odyssey, opening imaginative new dimensions in one of the foundational works of Western literature, a bold undertaking at which he succeeds brilliantly. At the same time, it stands on its own as a richly imagined and emotionally powerful work that functions well and consistently on many levels, placing Mason in league with the likes of Borges, Coover, and Nabokov. Open The Lost Books of the Odyssey anywhere and begin reading – you will soon find yourself at the place you started, wishing for more and grateful to read on.
O Woolly City
Poetry by Priscilla Sneff
Tupelo Press, June 2007
Paperback: 88pp; $16.95
Review by Cyan James
You're in an abandoned house. The floorboards are damp and creak under you – what was the reason, again, you decided to go bare-footed? And once in a while something brushes against your face. Sometimes it's the stray end of a cobweb, sometimes the rusty pull-chain to the chandelier. Sometimes you don't know. Of course, the lights don't work. You're not quite ready to leave, but you're starting to look for a way out. Sometimes you find stairs going up to strange cupboards; other times the stairs bear you down into musty basements.
For illumination, you're using Priscilla Sneff's first book of poetry, O Woolly City, a flickering flashlight of a book. Luckily, Sneff lives in an older world, a time littered with the clinker dust left behind by archeologists, scientists, and classicists. The words she uses to delineate that world come calibrated and weighed, dusted with history's filmy detritus, offering moments both resonant and unidentifiable, like rare bones found intact in a mass of loess. Her ground is marked off by the elegantly-observed forms of her poems, though the buried bodies they lead to are occasionally too dry and delicate to withstand hearty examination.
That's not always a bad thing. All of our sciences – and arguably our arts – begin with experiment, which by its nature is fated to fill a few dusty closets with what doesn't work. What's surprising in Sneff's work is not the presence of lesser experiments, of poems leaning too hard on the arm of derivation or becoming lost in the archives of poetic form, but the number and range of poems that succeed in haunting.
"Song," for example, gleams with quiet control and delightful rhythmic surprises:
Whether he live or no
The meadows shimmer as ever
And heat render the long stems low
And the sun stroke the river
And silence takes me in
Undoubling its front door
To a room like the room inside my skin,
Its broken furniture
And I lie on the single bed
Older; the brown linen is taut
My own bare arm lies under my head
Shifting little or not
When night calls to its own,
Ruffling its owls together,
And their eyes blink in the shining moon,
And the moon glows in the river.
What else does Sneff keep in the deep bins of her hypothetical agora stand, offered for sale to shoppers courting seductive surprise? Lyricisms. Ballads. Lullabies and prose poems, Pastorals, elegies, and spare little things that totter like skeletal fawns on astonishingly fine legs. The manuscript comes sectioned into five portions, each of which displays its own syntax and emphasis while adhering to general thematic threads of shifting change, developing expression, and mutating modes of language.
Sneff displays sensitivity to language as its own entity, as in poems like "The White Stone," where she writes, "Word, and words, and fuck / Words slip-up in a wave-slap, the black and glass / Waterwings that seabirds ride the backs of." Again, in "Advice to Penelope": "Snap the looms into Lego-sticks, confound, misline / The knitting needles into elbowed clackers; / Broider-hoops beat down to cellulose, and pack / Your thimbles into nutprincecrackers."
In other places, it's the precision of imagery that awes more than the density of wordplay and language, as in "Poem," where she writes, "And here is my heart, it's something I've grown / In a rib-cage life climbed up then down on, some ladder."
Often the images seem referential and more rooted in classicism and oft-favored poetic expressions, as in "Colloquia," where Sneff writes, "Here Christ Pantokrator flares against bleu du ciel…the small, pale astonished moonfaces of immured nuns are borne here on a tide of black habits pouring like darkness itself through the stone corridors of the ancient, the sea-gated," echoing Pound's petal-faces and black boughs. I admire Sneff's skillfulness, but find myself occasionally wishing for her to pursue with more elegant savagery the flashes of originality she showcases elsewhere.
Those who mull this book over are sure to find vivifying richness of form, allusion, and textual layering. And at the bottom of it all, after searching through Sneff's bins and attics and archeology sites, we're left impressed with a deceptively simple beauty. At the risk of begging the collection's title, the word "woolly" might be a keystone to comprehending Sneff's artfulness. In her poems, the word seems to describe not only her layering of colloquial and classical, but also the way the world's dust and laundry lint transform ordinary objects into strangeness. This linguistic shagginess adds mystery as it weaves itself into poetic shapes you'd wish to neither shear nor sacrifice.
Sneff perhaps sums it up best herself in "Poem," with the words, "I hear in the deep night the I love of ghosts." After reading O Woolly City, so do we.
I Am Death
Two novellas by Gary Amdahl
Milkweed Editions, May 2008
Paperback: 216pp; $15.00
Review by Matt Bell
Gary Amdahl's I Am Death collects two novellas, the crime story "I Am Death, or Bartleby the Monster (A Story of Chicago)" and "Peasants," a tale of hostile office politics. The two novellas are strikingly different in setting and tone, allowing Amdahl to display a range of abilities as both a writer and a storyteller.
"I Am Death" is reluctantly narrated by Jack, a Chicago journalist, who declares at the onset: "this is a story I am compelled to report. I don't want to, I'm tired of banging my head against the wall, no one I know is the least bit interested in cause anymore, effect is everything." It is a statement that at first seems at odds with the story he relates, which begins when Jack is contacted by George Swanson, lawyer for the brutal mobster Frank Fini. The men commission Jack to write Fini's biography, but Jack soon finds that Fini's presence is as catatonic and reserved as the Melville character that lends his name to the novella's title, the mobster preferring that Swanson speak for him on every topic.
Jack and Swanson are both sharply self-absorbed, an attribute that is a source of both introspection and delusion. Both are given to grand pronouncements and grander aspirations: Jack writes notes to himself ripe with self-predicating sentiments such as "am going to pieces in a calm and methodical way" while simultaneously convincing himself that this is the story that will finally take his career to the next level. Swanson too prefers speeches to open dialogue. He makes a variety of overreaching statements, such as when he compares his life in organized Chicago crime to Al Jolson's days as a blackface singer, saying,
"Guy spends his whole life being someone else—but those were different times. My point is, if you can't be who you are, you be whoever you can be, whoever your audience will let you be. They couldn't be Jews so they put on blackface. See, this is George Swanson in mob face."
The tension between Jack and Swanson is offset and reflected by Jack's relationship with Henrique Friend, a driver for the city morgue and the subject of the newspaper article that originally brought Jack to Swanson's attention. It is Henrique's job to drive the van that picks up the city's deceased and transports them to the morgue. Depressed with his work, he tries to kill himself only months before being interviewed by Jack, explaining that dealing with the dead makes him feel helpless: "like I'm late, I missed it, there's nothing you can do. You figure out how to be here and you get used to it." This last sentence is close to the heart of this novella, a single phrase that provides one way to judge these characters. On one side are those who have become part of this world, who have compromised themselves in order to be successful. On the other side are those who have not or cannot, and who will therefore be destroyed by their inability to live with the nature of their lives.
In "Peasants," protagonist Walter Rasmussen is an up-and-coming employee at a publisher of guidebooks for the users of geographic information systems. His job is to come up with projects that can be made into books, on subjects such as "[linking] certain business opportunities in outer space and sustainable development practices on the ground." As his own upward trajectory begins to level off, Rasmussen experiences a variety of professional and personal failures. Seemingly sabotaged by his boss, his co-workers, and his soon-to-be ex-wife, Rasmussen leaves behind the jovial camaraderie of his workplace for schemes to advance himself amid the crumbling ruins of his department until "a long and confusing dark age [falls] over not just the team and the company, but, at least from Rasmussen's perspective, the entire world, as well as the whole of his life, past, present, and future."
Rasmussen's fall from grace begins slowly, and it takes him a long time to hit bottom. Eventually, he finds himself involved in a series of necessary, and perhaps life-saving, separations and severances, without which he would be forever trapped in the petty orbits of his fellow office workers.
If "Peasants" seems to be merely good, it is perhaps only because it is placed side by side with "I Am Death," a truly masterful novella. I Am Death is a fine book and an excellent introduction to Amdahl's work for anyone who missed his stunning debut in 2006's Visigoth. At his best, he combines a deep thoughtfulness with compellingly athletic prose, creating a collection with both beauty and brawn to spare. Luckily, his best is a frequently occurring phenomenon, and we can only hope that there is more still to come.
Woman's Guide
to Mountain Climbing
Poems by Jane Augustine
Marsh Hawk Press, March 2008
Paperback: 118pp; $15.00
Review by Deborah Diemont
The poems in Jane Augustine's A Woman's Guide to Mountain Climbing confront, rather than bypass pain, and their "golden and piercing" music is made from a rugged but precise lineation and a relentless eye for detail.
The poem "After Yeats" presents a heroine who is a picture of romantic beauty – a young woman in jeans and a halter top eating blackberries while on horseback:
She's tough,
she thinks, and unromantic, sworn to accost
her self-deception, but is re-reading Yeats—mistake—
and loves his elegance, wants to bypass pain and sing
a desert world in music golden and piercing.
By contrast, the men who watch her, including her "lover, almost-ex" are "abashed." She certainly resembles a Yeatsian figure of female beauty – that double-edged sword, with a power equal only to its limitations when it comes to getting a woman what she wants. She is also a younger version of the woman who inhabits the other poems: a mother of grown children, divorced from a man who made her afraid. She seeks her independence in the Colorado mountains, experiencing climbing as a late rite of passage.
Despite my admiration for the mountain climbing poems, I prefer others in the book that are peripheral to that theme. The hiker's real journey is interior; nevertheless, the spell of a poem gets broken when it's clear that emotional "work" is being done. I sense that the breathtaking atmosphere, in which Augustine vividly captures moon, sun, rock and tree – as well as the obstacles a climber faces – is rich enough to yield transformation. When, in "The Passes: Hardscrabble, Independence," she remembers "a Jew and refugee, / who until the war's end hid / in a Bavarian cave, / . . .then married an angry man, but rich," the comparison of "I" with "other" makes sense, yet, if left out, would allow for greater impact of lines such as the "road rising so slowly one doesn't / notice then steep narrow / . . . by the overhang of Suicide Spire / named for a pair of teenaged lovers."
There are poems I wanted to scoop and hold tightly in my hands, such as "Rosita Cemetery," which draws bittersweet meaning from carefully chosen details, as in the lines, "Plastic wreaths / are sadder in / their lasting // than an obelisk / with no name."
This book, as with Augustine's previous Night Lights, shows a genius for free verse. Augustine makes perfect couplets or tercets when a poem asks her to, but she groups lines in a variety of ways. Where many poets' creative lineation strains the eye, hers uses negative space for clarity. There may be some influence from H.D., of whom Augustine is a scholar, yet A Woman's Guide is less mythological, more grounded in worldly phenomena. Tampons in a backpack are listed among gear that "a woman can't climb without" and "almost can't climb [with]." Likewise, "Motors [that] outroar the waterfall," inspire a "Digression on Trailbikers," where the mystique of the natural landscape is broken by human interference.
A Woman's Guide to Mountain Climbing represents several decades of writing, yet the poems come together as a unified work. Augustine's poetics involve precise lines, images, and structures. As in the poem "Locoweed," which describes a flower that drive cows mad if they eat it but that humans gather "by the armful," the most powerful poems bind beauty inextricably to pain.
Bob, or Man on Boat
A novel by Peter Markus
Dzanc Books, June 2008
Paperback: 136pp; $13.95
Review by Blake Butler
The collected work thus far of Peter Markus could be likened to an early earth encyclopedia, or a table of the elements. In Markus's world, though, the elements are not cryptic chemical symbols devised and laid in line by science. Instead, they are the epoxy of existence – they are the things we know without having to decipher, they are brothers, fish and mud. One could cut to most any page in a Markus apparatus and find these common images there repeated, like age lines encased in a tree trunk. Markus's word channels the innate. Each sentence placed next to one another as if by nature, his layered phrases cause an incantation.
In his first two volumes Good, Brother and The Singing Fish (both available from Calamari Press), Markus brought into the world these brothers, these fish and mud, and made them things that anyone could recognize as his. Using his elements somewhat like stones placed in a very certain order to make a pattern, Markus develops a base-terrain that seems to out-Hemingway even Hemingway, to primordially out-lurk even McCarthy's Child of God. It is a statement to his cryptic senses, to his bare and yet mesmerizing speech, that with such spare tools Markus can create so consuming and explicit a word world.
Markus's new novel Bob, or Man on Boat is another entry in the spare, unleavened world Markus has created, though in a slightly shifted sketch of terrain. It deals with precisely the man it's named for - Bob, who lives on a boat. Bob spends his every hour in the river flowing through a small town where he fishes for fish with an affluence unlike any other. The fish are compelled to Bob, and Bob to them. There are many reasons Bob does not leave the water, but, for the most part, it is because it's what he knows, it's what he lives for.
The novel is narrated by Bob's son, Bob, who also has a son of his own. Much of the novel follows Bob's observations of his father Bob, of the folklore that surrounds the man on the river in the boat. It is Markus's DNA-like prose that makes the rendering of these Bobs and their surroundings so provocative:
Nights when the moon is full, it is so lit up on the river that Bob in his boat looks like he is glowing from inside him.
As if Bob is made out of light.
- - -
But no.
Bob is a man made out of flesh.
Once, when I shook Bob's hand, there was bone there for me to shake.
I'm Bob, I said, and I stuck out my hand for Bob to take it.
It's true that Bob hesitated at first, Bob looked at my hand, but then he took it, my hand, the way that a fish might look at a rusty hook before taking it into its mouth.
Like other writers who elicit as much or more from tone and phrasing as they do actual occurrence - say, Dawn Raffel or Brian Evenson - much of Bob, or Man on Boat comes off hypnotic in a timeless, storybook kind of way: the sort of thing one might find themselves reading to their child and hearing things they know the child does not understand completely, but takes delight in, and likewise the child might hear things the adult does not. In this way it manages to stimulate not only the child in the man, but the man in the child, channeling somehow in the ground between the two. This is Markus's magic.
Though it is a novel that can be finished in one evening's read, Bob, or Man on Boat is the kind of work that moors in your head and, like Bob on his river, never leaves. Markus makes myth so well that it seems like child's play, like a humming game, but those who've tried to write so sparsely know that these kinds of creation gifts only come innate. If it is truly the inimitable that lasts forever, consider Markus going down with the ship.
Best of the
Bellevue Literary Review
Ed. Danielle Ofri
Bellevue Literary Press, February 2008
Paperback: 312pp; $16.95
Review by Sean Lovelace
No human thing is more universal than illness, in all its permutations, and no literary publication holds more credibility on the subject than The Bellevue Literary Review. I say this with upmost confidence as an English professor, a registered nurse, and as someone who recognizes the historical and philosophical origins (and namesake) of this fine literary periodical: Bellevue Hospital Center.
Most know Bellevue Hospital for its history (the nation's oldest public hospital), for its prestige (Nobel Laureates in medicine, the development of the polio vaccine, etc.), or for its fame (celebrity and literary patients; a locale of several films – the hospital continues to enliven the national imagination). Yet, the grounds of Bellevue offer even more, nestled in an office on the sixth floor: The Bellevue Literary Press, a publisher of highly regarded books, a prestigious literary magazine, and now a compilation of the magazine's finest work, Best of the Bellevue Literary Review.
This is an anthology of immediacy. Doctors, nurses, technologists, students, patients, family members – they know too well the blue clutch of illness, healing, and failure of healing. These are their pages, their words, of evocative honesty, of powerful voice, and whispered suffering. Of sometimes wonderful, sometimes terrible, but always urgent and necessary, truth.
Jan Bottiglieri shows in her flash fiction "Having an MRI/Waiting for Laundry," how illness affects memory, transforming the ordinary moments of life into sweet, treasured nostalgia: "Because the noise here inside the MRI machine is so common, so familiar, that within seconds I am leaning against the wall near the back door of my mother's house, circa 1975, listening to the green Maytag spin." As she lies supine and still inside the MRI's cold metal tube, the patient's memories ("An aching love for even the smallest detail") spin, the images focus, "as clear as the sunlight through the open door."
In his poem, "Revelations," David Shine writes of another patient:
Before he died,
the man with the new
artificial heart
sat mantis-thin,
in his striped hospital robe
and spoke in a whisper
The hardest part, he said
is not having a heartbeat,
just a whir.
But no one asked about
being afraid, how it felt
without the pounding.
If his joy was tempered
by the resolve of the device,
never racing or skipping a beat.
Or whether in sadness
an ache gripped his chest
like pain in a phantom limb.
What an odd and beautiful poem. The idea of change – of the winding path of illness, with all its thickets – is physical, but also inevitably of the soul. The heart is never only an organ. Illness is never exclusively an experience of flesh. And patients need to voice their stories, to be asked to give testament in words of revelation. This narrator's illness isn't like yours or mine; his heart isn't (literally), but, still, we all share trepidation, and suffering.
A physician's perspective may differ from a patient's, but the strange power of illness persists: often in the form of uncertainty, a reality of medicine we rarely glimpse in the role of patient. As Dr. Sherwin B. Nuland (an esteemed surgeon, teacher, and author) notes in his opening to the collection, "There are lots of things we can't solve . . . sometimes you have to hold the patient's hand and cry with them."
In the section titled "Doctors," we get poems of a surgeon's "trembling fingers" ("She Makes the First Cut" by Linda Tomol Pennisi); of a physician watching helplessly as a patient, "boils in his skin in the valley of thirst / He is a burning man. He is sick. Low sick. He suffers" ("Prisoner" by John Stone); of the oft indifference of our fragile existence: "You know enough that for every miracle / on this earth, there's at least three / that are grinding their marvels in reverse ("First Born" by John Grey).
Obviously, the strength of this collection is its quantity of voices and viewpoints on illness (the chapters are segmented in wide-ranging headings such as "Coping," "Family," "Madness," "Death," and so on), but I emphasize the most significant finding of this reviewer: the consistent quality. To put it simply, for literature to elicit understanding and empathy (clearly one goal of this publication), it must be written well. The excerpts listed here provide only a sampling, and the remaining pages glow with vivid imagery, energetic prose, a writer's eye for verisimilitude and exactness of phrasing. During my years in healthcare, we had a term for such a powerful and essential thing: "Good Medicine." Strong and stirring, often painfully honest – but always efficacious.
A Man of Ideas
and Other Stories
Fiction by David Galef
Noemi Press, December 2007
Chapbook: 54pp; $7.00
Review by Rav Grewal-Kök
"Beware the impractical man," warns the narrator of the title story of David Galef's chapbook collection of short and flash fiction: "Their wives either cherish or divorce them, and their sons and daughters, in reaction, often grow commonsensical and a little costive." That's funny, but we shouldn't miss the menacing undercurrent. The unfortunate ideas of Bernardo Lazar – a backyard smelter, a "Reaction Recovery" device, and "a project about giant vegetables" – put his wife and young children through a comic set of trials. So light is Galef's touch that we hardly notice, until the final sentence, that the Lazar family has come undone.
So go the rest of the stories, hooking us from the outset: "As a souvenir from her stay in Botswana, Mary Edwards brought home a slave" ("Hers"); "I didn't know whether to bring flowers, which don't say much to someone from a basic subsistence culture" ("My Date with Neanderthal Woman"); "Pat's a better man than I am, even though she's biologically female" ("Going Nowhere"). Galef plays these bizarre situations straight, but nightmares lurk beneath. In "Going Nowhere," the narrator's affectless prose winds us from that droll opening to a harrowing conclusion in just a few paragraphs. What begins in comedy ends in the exhaustion of marital ennui and despair: "The trick of marriage isn't doing it once but again and again. It takes more effort every year. I have nothing to add, only subtract."
In some of the stories, wit and bite come together in satire. Galef's final story, "Waste," is his sharpest. It's a monologue by a convict sentenced to serve the community by cleaning up roadside trash in the summer heat. The convict is an intemperate fellow, and we wonder about his crime. Was it theft, drunk-driving, solicitation, or something even more sinister? He comes clean at the end:
You want to know what I did? I was caught dumping trash, a whole carload of It – all the manuscripts that I received as editor of a magazine called The Maximalist, jettisoned out the window to smack facedown on the pavement or drift sheet by sheet in the backdraft to settle in the roadside weeds. Pages and pages of broken-up couples, dumb male rage, dead animals, senile relatives, trailer park antics, hokey regionalism, instant insanity, and present-tense limbo sent by all of you who never read a lick of literature but figured what the hell. Toss in all those manila SASE's and castoff copies of journals like Cloned Quarterly and More Stuff, and it can spread over a lot of ground. When the cop cruiser flashed its lights at me, I was still feeling righteous and gave him an earful. I decided to represent myself, but it made for an odd case. Maybe the judge was right. So here I am, picking up your trash.
In other stories, Galef dabbles in metafictional play, winking at the reader out of the text. When Elma, the barfly heroine of "Returns" tries out a line, we're told not to bother with the flat character who receives it: "'Living out my days, that's not enough,' she remarks to the bartender, whose function in this piece is to be dead." Yes, acknowledges the narrator, this is all artifice, and now can we dash on with the story? Galef has to be quick, for none of the pieces are longer than six generously spaced pages.
For all the varied terrain of this collection (Galef also covers Plato's allegory of the cave, the genesis of poetry, and bad novel-writing), what linger are his intimations of dread. Galef returns again and again to the difficulty of intimacy and the twinned impossibilities of solitude and love. In "With," a one-page flame of a story, Galef takes us through the arc of a middle-aged affair to its inevitable end: "But [Lydia] was preternaturally alert, sensing when the moment had passed even before it arrived. She never thought what she had with Daryl would last." Fear, suggests the narrator, always stalks emotional freedom: "That old what-iffer, sniffing around the dank clouds of our possibilities. That inveterate duo, love and lack."
Like Ben Marcus (who blurbed the back cover) and Paul Auster, Galef is testing language and narrative form to illuminate, however tenuously, dark recesses of human experience.
Breaking It Down
Flash fiction by Rusty Barnes
sunnyoutside, November 2007
Paperback: 100pp; $12.00
Review by Matt Bell
Rusty Barnes's Breaking It Down collects nearly twenty flash fictions into an attractive, pocket-size book, a rare instance where the size of the book accurately depicts the size of the stories. Luckily, it is only the page counts of the stories that are small, as the themes and characters contained within each tale loom larger than life, like the low-class tall tales they are.
Standout stories include "Gross Imperfections," about a group of grocery store workers all in love with the same female customer, and "Pretty," about a woman who turns an unwanted BDSM session into a chance to assert herself, to hurt someone else the way she's been hurt.
The men and women who populate Barnes's stories are frequently on the down and out, often chafing at the blue collar luck and sexual deviancies that are all they have left after other, better lives passed them by. Which is not to say these characters are victims, or at least not merely so. Instead, most are dynamic and willing to lock horns with the world around them. On the other side of their complaints lies action, as in "Class," where an unnamed narrator attempts to smile through the torturous life left behind when his wife marries his next door neighbor. The narrator sees a kindred spirit in his tormented mastiff/pit bull mix, Spud:
Pay careful attention as Spud lunges to the end of the logging chain you've bolted to the side of your garage and connected as well to a railroad tie driven three feet into the soft loam of your backyard. Imagine Spud slavering at them, running to the end of the brown dirt circle of lawn his incessant pacing has claimed for his own, rimmed with grand piles of week-old shit and the remnants of chewed plastic bowls and battered iron ones.
The second person narration is a cattle prod of words meant to stir up the reader, goading him into cheering the narrator on as he charges into the house of his former wife with his fingers wrapped around a loaded shotgun and Spud on a woefully insufficient leash. This is how Barnes operates over and over again. With stories too short to allow the reader's first reactions of moral superiority or indignation to surface, Breaking It Down instead offers raw characters rendered quickly and delivered with the visceral jolt of a bar fight, of a pickup truck tryst, of a car crash that happens every five pages. There is plenty of wreckage along the way, and many of his characters do get irreversibly injured, but there are also those who emerge as strong survivors, forged anew in the trailer park crucibles of their lives.
As the editor of Night Train, Rusty Barnes has championed flash fiction for over five years now, and his own book is as fine an affirmation of the form's potential as any other. Breaking It Down is a promising debut, and one that shouldn't be missed by anyone who considers themselves a fan of flash fiction.
The Translator's Diary
Poetry by Jon Pineda
New Issues, March 2008
Paperback: 57pp; $14.00
Review by Laura Eve Engel
The cover of Jon Pineda's second collection, The Translator's Diary, which depicts a graceful and nebulous spiral, is eerily reflective of the poems it obscures. Pineda's poems turn in on themselves, each a pointed and intimate introspection sheathed in the gauze of the lyric, accruing momentum in a sort of ripple effect as the book progresses.
What results is a gradual, initially fragmented but ultimately poignant, deepening: Pineda plays with the notion of translation, widening its meaning to include reflection, memory, illness, and even metaphor. Each poem contains the integrity to stand on its own, but are best taken together, one after the other, as he writes in the collection's title poem, "each color will form on its own / in the hoarding of fragments, rough // or smooth, carefully pieced together, / until, moment by moment, the image emerges."
The image that emerges from this spiraling, comprehensive collection is one composed of many fragments: Fear of memory loss and one's inability to articulate, complex theories of the image, a sister who died too soon. "This elegy / would love to save everything," Pineda writes, and the book works to weave its pieces into rich tapestry, composing the narrative of a maturing poet, a poet whose images, owing to their haunting persistence, will become a part of the reader's own narrative.
The Human Mind
Fiction by Angela Woodward
Ravenna Press, November 2007
Paperback: 50pp; $12.95
Review by Anna Clark
It would be easy to urge you to read The Human Mind because of the natural lure of the characters that people its short prose. There's a man made of smoke and another of glass; a woman who slips her fingers into the stringy coagulation of her thoughts kept in a bowl; an impoverished Edgar Allan Poe who supports himself "on what he could squeeze out of his brain, a kind of black milk of his words."
That, I think, might be enough to incite you to pick up the book, but it wouldn't do justice to Woodward's talent. More than a collection of exhilarating novelties, The Human Mind plays on the quiet shock of persons who bristle at the edges between themselves and the natural world. From odorous fire to watery depths, from wild-eyed horses to honeycombs to the weird abnormalities of other people, Woodward's characters startle in the dissonance of themselves juxtaposed with the living elements around them.
In its leaps and obsessions, even our human mind seems to be a living thing that is not quite ours. Like the woman who wets her hands in her bowlful of thoughts, Woodward's characters possess minds that seem to move without their will. In "Lydia," an alchemist presents bottled starlight to the aristocracy. The substance with self-giving light lures another scientist:
Just as light is preserved in phosphorescent stone and powder, so the mind stores its pictures, reasoned Royal Curator of Experiments Robert Hooke. The brain, he said, the wonderful Elaboratory of the human body, must operate in a similar manner as the soulful substance, holding its images of childhood friends, waterfalls, or paths through forests, these lingering pictures that so animate the inner man. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the face of his daughter Lydia, seven years old, carried off by croup. She glowed within him, without burning, though if he gazed at her too long, his eyes began to sting. And if he was alone, he would sit down and stare unmoving at whatever hit his retina, sometimes for hours.
This disconnect between an individual and his/her mind is brilliantly manifested by Woodward's play with point of view and protagonists. Omniscient stories turn swiftly into first-person, while in others the reader is startled to be directly addressed. Historic figures brush shoulders with those that seem to be emphatically imagined, such as the demon that shows Edgar Allan Poe a daguerreotype of the entire universe.
But what might be merely a "thought experiment," (as the collection's second piece is titled) is instead fixed in a physical space. Not only are we pulled into the abstractions of William James's mind, but we are with him on a walk where "the philosopher dropped to his knees and vomited" while he "felt the sun warm the exposed back of his neck."
Bodies, human and otherwise, ground the setting throughout the collection's loose evocation of a nineteenth century landscape. The new London Zoo of 1826 is particularly memorable with an elephant that, like a beagle, is taken for nightly walks.
At 50 pages, The Human Mind can be read in a single sitting. Taken in like an extended inhale, Woodward's book is like a night's worth of dreams weighing on you in the morning with their slippery truths.
A novel by Jean Echenoz
Trans. Linda Coverdale
The New Press, June 2007
Hardcover: 192pp; $21.95
Review by Sarah Sala
Jean Echenoz's latest work Ravel, translated from French, is a novelistic rendering of the final ten years in the life of Maurice Ravel, a wildly famous French concert pianist and composer. Adhering to the musician's real life in extraordinary detail, Echenoz pens a seamless entry and exit into the previously unexplored soundscape of Ravel's mind. In a novel consisting of only 117 pages, there isn't one unnecessary syllable, let alone a dissonant note.
Ravel begins the story by shutting up his house in Montfort-l'Amaury, France, and scrambling to make a train to the harbor station at Le Havre. Once aboard, he will embark on a four-month concert tour of North America. At the conclusion of the first chapter the narrator matter-of-factly states that from this moment on Ravel "now has ten years, on the nose, left to live." Thus he begins the riot of luxury, loneliness, chronic insomnia, and exultations had during the wonderfully tragic final span of his life.
Ravel impresses the reader as an eccentric and a first-rate dresser, who at the beginning of the work packs up, "among other things—sixty shirts, twenty pairs of shoes, seventy-five ties, and twenty-five sets of pajamas" to schlep to North America. A chain smoker of Gauloise cigarettes, he plays his concertos to sold-out venues enraptured by his music, the crowd unbothered by his imperfect piano skills caused by his utter loathe of practice.
Ravel's greatest triumph in the world of music is Boléro. A piece devised for the ballet, it is a largely repetitive movement rumored to have been the product of his escalating dementia:
There's no form, strictly speaking, no development or modulation, just some rhythm and arrangement. In short, it's a thing that self-destructs, a score without music, an orchestral factory without a purpose, a suicide whose weapon is the simple swelling of sound.
Not long after the great success of Boléro, Ravel is involved in a debilitating car accident which accelerates the pace of his deteriorating cognitive abilities. In a surreal climax to the novel, the reader watches as surgeons tinker inside the skull of the artist, an experimental craniotomy the means to his end. Though the doctors are possessed with the task to "repair" the damage done to his brain in order to provide Ravel with a few more years of artistic productivity, Echenoz proves the creative soul is by no means a tangible element. A wonderfully poignant conclusion to a slow-beginning work, it is as if Echenoz has managed to translate the immutable qualities of Ravel's music into his insistent prose.
Prix Goncourt-prize-winning writer Jean Echenoz has seen five of his novels translated into English. Writing in a vernacular, starkly descriptive manner, including almost no overt dialogue, the author is an expert at wending the reader through the life of a complete stranger, while recreating the familiarity of one's own thoughts. This novel is an amazing tribute to a widely appreciated composer, but also a fascinating look into the creation and destruction of a major artist. Ravel compelled me to consider the creative process long after I had closed its chapters.
Double Header
Fiction by Suzanne Burns
Future Tense Books, January 2008
Chapbook: 40pp; $5.00
Review by Matt Bell
Suzanne Burns's Double Header is a slim chapbook comprised of just two short stories, "An Acquired Taste" and "Tiny Ron." Both stories are full of magic (one more literally than the other), and both have marriage at their centers, both thematically and as plot devices.
In "An Acquired Taste," Roland is a widowed magician who opens the story explaining that he could sometimes be found breaking glass, saying, "Goblets, mugs, tumblers, I threw them against the walls of Portland restaurants until waiters knew me and the ring I still wore." During this dramatic coping process, he meets Lottie, a woman whose insatiable pica is a stark contrast to his dead wife's anorexia:
Lottie promised not to die from her compulsion. On our second date she told me she understood, through trial and error, the near-fatal level of any product. One lick of bleach tingled along her every nerve. One bite of chalk dried her mouth like antiperspirant. One teaspoon of a particularly virulent brand of glue, though, had damaged her already myopic left eye. Afraid of going blind, Lottie crossed out bathroom cleaners and any other kind of solvent from her list, then added in postcards, coins, and her favorite, dirt.
As Roland and Lottie circle each other, each trying to explain the kind of marriage they want from the other, it becomes obvious that they have very different needs. These wants and desires are amplified by the failures of their first marriages, by Randall's loneliness and Lottie's need to try to feel normal. Common wisdom says marriage is about acceptance and compromise, but Lottie begs to differ, wanting something better, arguing that "being in love… should cancel out shame," but also trying vainly to ward Randall off by protesting his optimism, noting that "better versions are impossible to find because there's something wrong with everyone." In a story full of heartbreak, it is hard not to cheer for Randall's imagined version of their future together, but it is also easy to sympathize with Lottie's reluctant heart, with her lacking self-esteem and ever-present cynicism.
"Tiny Ron" captures a couple at a different place in their relationship, opening with this attention-grabbing line, "The women who admire Tiny Ron have no idea how it feels being married to the world's smallest man." An eighteen-inch-tall actor, Ron is a self-absorbed, abusive lover, pinching and biting and otherwise injuring his wife. When the narrator suggests that she "[wants] to be one of those couples who convinces themselves that they love each other," Ron disagrees, saying that "the more we focus on each other, the more we forget to hate ourselves. That'll get us a lot further than love."
Although it is thematically as strong as its counterpart, the less likable characters in "Tiny Ron" make it slightly harder to care about them or their problems, especially Ron, who for much of the story comes off as just another spoiled celebrity. By the end, both of them have revealed enough of what makes them tick to engage most readers, but they still don't end up covering quite as much emotional territory as Roland and Lottie do in "An Acquired Taste."
Suzanne Burns does an excellent job depicting the way we define our future with our past, and how the damage done to us by our last lover can make it hard to trust the next one or to see them for who they really are instead of just who we want them to be. The plots of both stories revolve around the way these kinds of expectations are both met and thwarted over the course of a courtship, and the final effect is a recognition that will take you to the core of your feelings about love and commitment. Double Header is a fine work of fiction, and well worth the afternoon it will take you to read it.
Oh, Don't Ask Why
Fiction by Dennis Must
Red Hen Press, January, 2007
Paperback: 160pp; $15.95
Review by Sarah Sala
Dennis Must's stories are at times both unsettling and tremblingly genuine, and once the reader gives herself over to them, worth consideration. Not that stories about immolation, cross-dressing, prostitutes, Bible study beauty pageants, family, and loss normally aren't. It's just that the stories come on slow, and before you know it, you're sitting in your living room pondering whether you should be imagining a grieving widower dressing up in his dead wife's clothing.
Must is capable of creating dynamic sentences, and while he uses words not necessarily foremost in everyone's vocabulary (some dictionary checking is necessary and beneficial), once understood, these words explode into perfect meaning. There is nothing more satisfying than setting off a phrase that energizes an entire paragraph.
Must's best assets are his descriptive abilities – architecture, landscape, furniture, people – and his unparalleled expertise with men's and women's clothing. His best stories include both these qualities, and his worst limp along with painfully overwritten dialogue or unjustifiably obscure story endings.
With this description of an aging prostitute in "She's a Little Store Inside," the care and mystique Must imparts is refreshingly original:
Like a plaster of Paris palmist inside a cloudy glass arcade box she sat staring out her window. You place a nickel into a slot, her wooden hand overturns a Queen of Spades, a cardboard fortune drops out a cupped opening—somewhere, you imagine, below her skirts.
My favorite stories were "The Hireling," with its rich landscaping descriptions, and "Star-Crossed," which takes place in a mortuary. Closely following were stories like "Queen Esther," where a son is introduced to the secret campy world of his mother's women's Bible study, and "Lament," where all of the narrator's dead loved ones inhabit his mind.
Must's successful stories work because he grants the reader admission into places we normally wouldn't be allowed access. His stories work to make the unfamiliar familiar, and in the process they often become uncanny. Take this moment from "Star-Crossed":
Tom opened the doors of a giant metal cabinet, a walk-in closet set against the wall of the cavernous garage. On one side were shelves of car door handles, carburetor heads, boxes of spark plugs, distributor caps…; and on the opposite side, trays of eyes—every shade imaginable—false teeth, reading glasses, drawers of toupees, vials of coloring to shade the paraffin wax, limb prostheses, plus a separate compartment where mourning suits and dresses of every vintage hung.
While the short length of the stories made reading them manageable, I began wishing towards the middle of the collection that some were longer. It would have been nice to inhabit a story for a while before exiting it and working to enter the next one. Interestingly, since the stories were brief and included similar characters, if not recurring life details, the pieces began to blend together, lending cohesiveness to the collection.
Though there were some infelicities in the writing, I would recommend these stories to a reader willing to investigate, not only the more closed-off areas of society, but also the deep sounding of the human heart while attempting to understand loss.
A Proper Knowledge
A Novel by Michelle Latiolais
Bellevue Literary Press, May 2008
Hardcover: 192pp; $22.95
Review by Cynthia Reeser
A Proper Knowledge, Michelle Latiolais's follow up to the family-centered novel Even Now, is another novel focused around family and relationships. Luke is a dedicated, perceptive Los Angeles doctor with a practice treating autistic children – his career choice influenced by his own late sister, a schizophrenic whose memory haunts him at times.
Latiolais forms a smooth, continuous narrative within the characters' lives, opening them up to the reader in all their endearing quirks and inside jokes. Meanwhile, rewards are offered up via the sparkling glimpses into Luke's treatment psychology; he is a doctor whose gentle observations and interest in his patients bleeds over onto the reader. One of Luke's patients, Stan, speaks only in lines from The Lion King and The Manchurian Candidate, a mystery that Luke seeks to unlock with his inherent perceptiveness:
Stan stands very still, a small, narrow statue; there is a tremendous, calamitously still anger rigidifying his body, and then the anger is kinetic and he begins to turn, his arms held close to his body, turning, turning, dervishing, his arms open to maintain his balance, and Luke knows he must wait, maybe five, maybe ten, maybe fifteen minutes before Stan stops, and that, in fact, it is therapeutic for Stan to twirl, that he'll be calmer afterward, his coordination better.
Unfortunately, the book is not without its flaws. Luke's concern for his friend Naila – a new mother and doctor who is married to another, controlling, doctor who would rather see her give up her career for child-rearing than he would himself – goes unresolved after the issue's initial presentation.
Through this couple, Luke meets his new love-interest a floral artist named Alice whose work evinces deeply mysterious psychological overtones. Luke first falls in love with her work and then, before really getting to know her, the woman herself. His head-over-heels fascination in Alice is inexplicable beyond his admiration of her work, and he is asking her to move in with him by the second date.
Through Luke's quick-witted, imminently likeable mother, the novel questions how much Luke's interest in Alice crosses the line between personal and professional. Does Luke have a savior complex because of his sister? Does he see quiet, reclusive Alice as a stand-in for his sibling, or for his patients? Is she someone he can nurture, cure? Latiolais writes:
He has thought to find in her life what went wrong, the catastrophic, but he's weary of those thoughts right now, understands them to be less about Alice than about what has happened to Alice, that there is a distinction and that locating trauma serves his profession but not his heart.
The potential for imbalance in Alice is part of what makes her work so successful, so sought after. There is an unfettered, unsuppressed subconscious mind at work in her arrangements, but with all that's made of Alice's state of mind, nothing ever comes of the hints that she will somehow affect the treatment of Luke's patients. More importantly, her suggested past traumas never surface, and, disappointingly, she turns out to be surprisingly normal. Luke spends a good deal of time pursuing Alice, but once she agrees to meet with him (a meeting and subsequent relationship that come too easily for such a private woman), stories about his patients fall off and the rest of the narrative centers on their interactions.
The novel is as much about compassion as it is about understanding one's own inner processes. These themes are perceptively interlaced into a winsome, albeit flawed, love story that is as serious as it is funny. Overall, the colorful characters and intelligent observations carry the novel. In spite of its imperfections, A Proper Knowledge presents a compassionate, inquisitive look at the mysteries of the mind and the intricacies of human relationships.
Do the Math
Poetry by Emily Galvin
Tupelo Press, April 2008
Paperback: 79pp; $16.95
Review by Roy Wang
Emily Galvin likes details. In her mini-plays that make up the first half of the book, she pencils every texture, breath, and tilt of head with conspicuous meticulousness, as if the rabid observation of minutiae should yield meaning like the sudden breakthrough in a mathematical proof. This approach often leads to pieces that are more description than dialogue, but with focus that renders it powerful, rather than an inanely panning camera eye. The terse dialogues that do ensue have an amplified gravity, and given their binary form, cannot fail to call up Endgame or another of Beckett's masterpieces.
With the increasing impact of science and technology, it is no surprise that many writers are turning to these to find new metaphors and structures for their work. With Wikipedia, it has become even easier to find easily digestible bases for our fiction and poetry. Unfortunately, Emily Galvin's use of mathematical ideas in her forms and writing is immediately seen as a gimmick to anyone who happens to know enough about math to understand the implications of the structures. There is even a four-page introduction by a mathematician that doesn't really explain the math used by Galvin and the relevance to the themes; it just blithely acknowledges the presence of math in poetry.
Galvin makes much use of the Fibonacci sequence, which characterizes natural growth, spirals, and most famously, the Golden Ratio, yet there is no sense of these issues in her poems aside from syllable counting. She also calls on Euclid's algorithm for finding the greatest common divisor of two numbers. However, almost all her poems use numbers that are relatively prime, which renders the algorithm meaningless beyond the trite observation that they have nothing (or one thing) in common. The beautiful lattice of relations in mathematical spaces has been negated, not used. She may just be using these ideas as a novel framework, but form without intent renders the form irrelevant. The simple idea of facing a brutal reality, characterized by the phrase "do the math," may be the main thrust, but using complex structures to do this seems misguided.
Not that these poems are bad. In fact, the first section is quite captivating, and she demonstrates a good ear, using short, repetitive phrasing to highlight the drama of the moment:
In the room, the light is slanting and yellow. This is winter afternoon light, the light that hits an Iowa cornfield at about 3:00 pm on a sunny day in February. Very deep slant, very warm yellow. It is hitting the aspens in pieces.
If there could be a little wind, that would be nice.
Galvin's poems excel in rendering distance by close focus, zooming in on lips searching for words that never come. In her mini-dramas, we see the spiral of unknown motivations lost forever in the characters, repeated actions as futile as counting to infinity. Consider the scene after a couple has an inexplicable fight over the woman looking for her hair clip:
BEN waits until there are creaks overhead. He turns, looks at the armchair. He sits. He stares out in front of him. Then, without moving his eyes from the point in space on which they've been fixed, slowly brings his left hand to his right breast pocket. He pulls out a small, purple, rhinestone hair clip, shaped like a dragonfly. He brings his hand, dragonfly in it, to his lap. He lays his left hand on his open right hand. He looks down at his hands, at the hair clip. Twenty seconds goes by in this position.
BEN (Without moving anything but his mouth, calling upstairs) I can't find it!
The book finishes with Galvin's lyrics, which are generally less interesting. She is again at her best when most stark, most evocative, probing the internal rather than drawing on external phenomena, with one notable exception: "Sometimes, if things get really hot, the stars turn iron into gold, and then, and then just to make the alchemists weep, gold into lead." The book, in fact, feels the same way: pressure brings out her best at the beginning, and then the loss of focus that arises from sustained forcing devolves into the end pieces.
All in all, Do the Math showcases an artist with wide potential. Dramatist, poet, polymath, it's only a matter a time before Emily Galvin crystallizes a true winner from the chaos of her myriad of interests.


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The International Cesarean Awareness Network, Inc. (ICAN) is a nonprofit
organization whose mission is to improve maternal-child health by preventing
unnecessary cesareans through education, providing support for cesarean
recovery, and promoting Vaginal Birth After Cesarean (VBAC).
Due to a recent technical issue, we have had some issues with our email accounts. If you have emailed a chapter or ICAN position in the last few days, please resend your email again so that we may help you.
ICAN is pleased to announce Megan Nickel-Martin as the September 2014 ICAN Volunteer of the Month!
Read more here…
ICAN chapters throughout the country participated in the 3rd annual "Rally to Improve Birth" yesterday and last weekend in an effort to bring attention to the cesarean rate in the United States as well as the issue of birth traumas. Read more here….

subset: commoncrawl


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Winter soups tend to be redundant and unexciting, as produce is limited during colder months. This season, discover the versatility and deliciousness of sunchokes, also known as Jerusalem artichokes. Well adapted to colder climates, sunchokes have become widely popular during winter harvest. The odd-looking and sweet-tasting sunchoke is similar to a potato in texture and can be roasted, sautéed into a gratin or mashed with cream and butter like the root vegetable. Chef Jay Swift from Atlanta's 4th & Swift suggests blending it into a creamy soup, which can be found on the restaurant's menu during winter months. His sunchoke soup recipe is a new and easy way to warm up on chilly nights.
Sunchoke Soup (makes 16 cups)
recipe by Chef Jay Swift, 4th & Swift
1. In a medium sauce pan, sauté onions, leeks and celery on low heat until translucent. Do not brown. Add the sunchokes and cover with vegetable stock. Simmer until soft and breaking apart.
2. In another sauce pan, warm up cream on the stove.
3. In a blender, puree cooked sunchokes. Add cream, salt and pepper and lemon to taste.
4. Strain mixture through a fine sieve. Serve hot.
-By Alexa Lampasona for the Food & More blog
January 15th, 2014
11:04 am
Can't wait to try this! Oh how I love #vegetarian soups.


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CHAMBLEE, Ga. (AP) - Police in Atlanta's northeast suburbs say three men were struck and killed by a pickup as they attempted to walk across a freeway near the start of the morning rush hour.
DeKalb County police spokeswoman Mekka Parish said the crash happened around 5 a.m. Tuesday in the southbound lanes of Interstate 85, near the Chamblee-Tucker Road exit.
Moments after the crash, two bodies could be seen on the pavement in the southbound lanes as commuters drove slowly past the flashing lights of the first police car on the scene.
The pedestrians have been identified as: 25-year-old Rogelio Pena-Cruz, his brother 20-year-old Matis Pena-Cruz and 20-year-old Celerino Cruz-Candlario.
Parish said the men had entered the freeway from the east, crossed all northbound lanes, and then scaled the median wall that separates northbound and southbound traffic before they were struck.
She said the pickup driver stopped, and no charges have been filed.
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Obama defends Affordable Health Care at Boston's Faneuil Hall: 'We're in this together'
President Barack Obama was welcomed by tremendous applause today at Boston's historic Faneuil Hall, where he defended the federal government's Affordable Care Act amid mounting criticism over Healthcare.gov website glitches.
After an introduction by Gov. Deval Patrick, whom Obama referred to as one of the "best" governors, the president referred to Mayor Thomas Menino as "one of America's best mayors."
He also acknowledged the city's passionate Red Sox fans, who were just hours away from Game Six of the World Series, saying, "I am well aware that the presidential visit is not the biggest thing going on in Boston. … I tried to grow a beard, but Michelle, she wasn't having it."
Within moments, protesters began chanting about energy issues, yelling, among other things, "Stop the pipeline!" and "Stop climate change for our generation" before they were ushered out.
The outburst was met by boos.
"OK, we're talking about health care today. … That was the wrong rally. … We had the climate change rally back in the summer. This is the health care rally," the president responded.
Transitioning to his signature health care law, Obama said there is "no denying" that the website is too slow, and that "too many people have gotten stuck."
Earlier today, the U.S. government's top health official, Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius, said that private insurance companies, not the new healthcare law, are to blame for hundreds of thousands of people losing their coverage in the past few weeks.
Sebelius called the debut of the Affordable Care Act a "debacle" as she sought to assure skeptical lawmakers at a congressional hearing that the administration will fix technical flaws with the website.
"The website hasn't worked the way it's supposed to … as a consequence a lot of people haven't had a chance to see just how good the prices for these quality (services) really are," Obama said.
"And I'm not happy about it. … There is no excuse for it."
Obama went on to slam opponents of the Affordable Care Act, saying that "providing people with health care should be a no-brainer," and that if anyone has any better ideas, "I'd be happy to listen."
He wrapped up his remarks by saying, "We are in this together, and we're going to see it through."
Follow Morgan Rousseau on Twitter: @MetroMorgan
Follow Metro Boston on Twitter: @MetroBOS
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Book your room at Hotel Moderno
Madrid hotel in city center, adjoining Puerta del Sol
Plaza Mayor and metro
This central Madrid hotel is just off Puerta del Sol and within a 5-minute walk of the Royal Palace and Plaza Mayor. Museo del Prado is 1.2 km (0.8 mi) away. A metro stop is next to the hotel.
Complimentary Wi-Fi
Complimentary wireless Internet access is provided throughout Hotel Moderno. The hotel also features a multilingual staff, concierge services, and city-view terraces. Restaurants and bars are steps away.
Smoke-free rooms
Air-conditioned guestrooms include satellite TV, complimentary wireless Internet access, and in-room safes. Bathrooms come with hair dryers and makeup/shaving mirrors. All rooms are smoke-free.Information missing or incorrect? Tell us!
At your hotel
At your hotel
Hotel Moderno features multilingual staff, concierge services, and laundry facilities. Complimentary wireless Internet access is available throughout the hotel, and there are two small meeting rooms. This Madrid hotel also offers currency exchange, a safe deposit box at the front desk, and an elevator (lift).
Please note: pets (including service animals) are not allowed. Hotel Moderno is a smoke-free property.
- Concierge services
- Babysitting or childcare (surcharge)
- Breakfast available (surcharge)
- Total number of rooms - 97
- Multilingual staff
- Safe-deposit box at front desk
- 24-hour front desk
- Number of floors - 8
- Laundry facilities
- Elevator/lift
- Coffee/tea in lobby
- Wired (high-speed) Internet access - surcharge
- Dry cleaning/laundry service
- Tours/ticket assistance
- Rooftop terrace
- Luggage storage
- Meeting rooms
- Room service (limited hours)
- Number of meeting rooms - 2
- Airport transportation (surcharge)
- Free Wi-Fi
- Smoke-free property
Stay connected
Available in all rooms: Free Wi-Fi
Available in some public areas: Free Wi-Fi , Wired (high-speed) Internet access - surcharge
In your room
- Pay movies
- Air conditioning
- Climate control
- Daily housekeeping
- Private bathroom
- Hair dryer
- Bidet
- Bathtub or shower
- Satellite TV service
- Iron/ironing board (on request)
- In-room safe
- Desk
- Cribs/infant beds available
- Flat-panel TV
- Free Wi-Fi
- Complimentary newspaper
- Soundproofed rooms
- Cribs/infant beds (complimentary)
Eat and drink
The hotel offers a buffet breakfast between 7:30 AM and 10:30 AM for a surcharge.
The hotel does not have its own restaurant, but there are several dining options within the surrounding area.
Nearby restaurants:
Jose Luis
La Bola
The fine print for Hotel Moderno
When you arrive
Check-in time starts at noon
When you leave
Check-out time is noon
How you can pay
Accepted at this hotel: American Express, Diners Club, JCB International, MasterCard, Visa
You need to know
Extra-person charges may apply and vary depending on hotel policy.
Government-issued photo identification and a credit card or cash deposit are required at check-in for incidental charges.
Special requests are subject to availability upon check-in and may incur additional charges. Special requests cannot be guaranteed.
- No onsite parking is available.
- Breakfast fee: EUR 10 per person (approximately)
- Airport shuttle fee: EUR 26 per person (one way)
- Self parking fee: EUR 28 per day
We should mention
Cash transactions at this property cannot exceed EUR 2500, due to national regulations. For further details, please contact the property using information in the booking confirmation. One child 3 years old or younger stays free when occupying the parent or guardian's room, using existing bedding.


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- Quick Links
- Project A.I.M.S.
- Outstanding Black Graduates
- Signature Programs
- Student Organization Resources
- Contact Us
Social Justice Colloquium"Till the day I die, I am going to make my body a bridge so somebody can run across it."
Kweisi Mfume
Washington, D.C. - July 24, 2013
The first OIDI Social Justice Colloquium begins in September 2013 and concludes in December 2013. The Social Justice Colloquium provides campus and external constituents an opportunity to engage in deep discussions about race, racism and privilege.
There are four Social Justice Colloquium teams. Each team has a maximum of 20 participants. The individual teams meet once in September, twice in October and once in November for 1.5 hours each session. The four teams meet for the first time as a collective group at the December luncheon.
Each group is assigned a Team Leader to facilitate deep discussion around the initial diversity and social justice reading. The remaining team reading discussions are facilitated by different group members each meeting.
One goal of the Social Justice Colloquium is to provide the WKU campus community with a transparent framework to engage in deep, interrogative discussions about race, power, privilege, diversity, inclusion and intersectionality.
A second goal is to use the "emerging themes" during the Social Justice Colloquium to leverage institutional transformational change which supports and sustains increased numbers of degree completion among under-represented students.


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The ER-25k blends the looks of a 7.62 semi-automatic sniper rifle and a CQB M4 in one neat package. With plenty of rail space, simply add your favorite optic, bi-pod, and even a barrel extension to create a full-blown sniping beast.
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DyOh jewelry is handcrafted from the finest raw materials available to promote a feeling of spiritual and bodily wellbeing, as well as an elevated sense of soothing self-awareness. The Desert Beads Stretch Bracelet is the perfect way to wear your spirituality on your sleeve.
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There's a lot of buzz about Downtown Bel Air these days and with good reason. Over the past few years, popular Baltimore City restaurants and pubs have either relocated or opened outposts in Bel Air including Sean Bolan's...Read more
The brilliant writer Thomas Wolfe penned a novel that was published posthumously in 1940 titled "You Can't Go Home Again." Well, don't tell that to Erika (Quesenbery) Sturgill, executive director of the Bel Air...Read more
On any given spring or summer weekend, Harford County welcomes 15,000 to 40,000 visitors. They are families drawn by baseball, lacrosse and soccer tournaments, and the opportunity for young athletes to be "seen" by coaches...Read more
What do Walter Anderson, editor of "Parade Magazine," Nolan Archibald, CEO of Black & Decker Corporation, and Edwin Hale, former chairman and CEO of First Mariner Bank, all have in common? According to the American...Read more
In 2015, the Bel Air Armory will celebrate its 100th Anniversary with yet another innovation – Bel Air Armory Marketplace. This project is part of the amazing transformation of the property from a National Guard facility to a...Read more
Anthony J. DiPaula, P.A.
For Anthony DiPaula, it has always been about personal relationships with [read]
HVAC Pros: B.W. Mechanical
For 24 years, B.W. Mechanical has provided heating, air conditioning and [read]
AUG/SEPT Business Briefs
Larger Space for Rapid Refill Rapid Refill's owner Donna Gustafsson announced that after seven years [read]
Serving the Country Through Business
Louisa Jaffe, Technical and Project Engineering (TAPE)Leadership. Results. Focus. Effectiveness. These [read]
Simple Process, High-Tech Results
It's a simple process. Take a plain unadorned object, dip it [read]
Shining a Light
A new partnership between the U.S. Army Edgewood Chemical Biological Center [read]
Courses, Seminars, Conferences Equal a Smarter Workforce
In a challenging economy, employers are invariably looking for ways to [read]
A National Model for a Community College
What do Walter Anderson, editor of "Parade Magazine," Nolan Archibald, CEO [read]


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Mark Greaney's debut international thriller, The Gray Man, became a national bestseller and was nominated for a Barry Award in the Best Thriller category. The follow-up Gray Man thriller, On Target was also nominated for a Barry Award in the Best Thriller category. Ballistic, the third in the series also received glowing reviews including a rave from the New York Times comparing flipping the pages of the Mark Greaney thriller to "…playing the ultimate video game!" Mark's fourth Gray Man thriller, Dead Eye, will be released December 3rd, 2013.
Mark is the #1 New York Times bestselling co-author of Threat Vector and Locked On by Tom Clancy with Mark Greaney, as well as the co-author of the upcoming release of Command Authority by Tom Clancy with Mark Greaney, in stores December 2013.
Marks books are published in several languages and are available in paperback, ebook and audiobooks.
A feature film adaptation of The Gray Man is in development by New Regency Pictures. The screenplay for The Gray Man was written by Adam Cozad, who also wrote the screenplay for Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit based on the Jack Ryan character created by Tom Clancy, in theaters January 17, 2014.
Mark has a degree in International Relations and Political Science. In his research for The Gray Man novels he has traveled to more than fifteen countries, visited the Pentagon and many Washington, D.C. Intelligence agencies, and trained alongside military and law enforcement in the use of firearms, battlefield medicine, and close-range combative tactics.
Mark lives in Memphis, Tennessee


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It takes 512 recycled milk jugs to make this bench!
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By Jessica Creagan
TREASURE COAST -- A legislation idea conceptualized by group of middle-schoolers inspired a winning grant for the Humane Society of Vero Beach and Indian River County.
Janet Winikoff, education director for the Indian River County animal shelter wrote a "Peticaid" grant that was recently approved for $9,000 by the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals of New York.
The grant, named after the federal government's Medicaid program, is designed to help pet owners who have fallen in dire financial straits with their pet's needs, both food and veterinary care, Ms. Winikoff said.
The $9,000 will be distributed by the Humane Society of Vero Beach and Indian River County to needy pet parents so that they can keep their pet at home with them and not have to give them up for adoption, she said.
"It will help make a meaningful difference to approximately 60 animal families in our community," Ms. Winikoff said.
The idea began in January, 2012 when students approached Ms. Winikoff for advice about their Peticaid idea to present as legislation for their civics class at Palm Pointe Educational Research School in Tradition, said B-J Farrell, dean's clerk for the school in an email.
The students were in a program call Project Citizen and tasked with finding a community issue to champion and they chose pets that were surrendered as a result of their low-income owners falling on hard times and being unable to care for them.
While their idea didn't make it to the state level as legislation, it definitely inspired Ms. Winikoff to write her grant.
"I knew I wanted to tell the students that their ideas had made a difference, even though they were no longer in that same class with their teacher Hillary Cruz," Ms. Winikoff said.
Earlier this year, Ms. Winikoff met with some of the students to tell them how their idea grew. The students were thankful and expressed an interest in seeing the Peticaid program grow across the Treasure Coast and the state, Ms. Farrell said in an email.
"This could potentially be a great first step for other shelters to follow suit. Maybe one day there will be a safety net for animals in our community," Ms. Winikoff said.
For more information about the Humane Society of Vero Beach and Indian River County, visit www.hsvb.org.
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MedicAlert Kid Smart offers the full suite of MedicAlert services at a discounted rate for children ages 0-17.
MedicAlert Essential™ is a simplified online only membership plan designed to provide medical alert services by linking MedicAlert medical IDs to an EMIR® (Emergency Medical Information Record). Renew your Essential membership today to stay connected to your online health information.
For full membership, including customer service support and Family Notification, please consider MedicAlert® Advantage.
MedicAlert Foundation® is more than a medical ID - we are the most dependable, responsive, intelligent, and trusted emergency support network.


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Local News:
Marlon De La Torre, who has been named director of the diocese's Catechesis Department, is an example of a position and person coming together perfectly. De La Torre came to the diocese in 2010 and has served as director of Office of Marriage and Family Life and director of Catechist Formation and Children's Catechesis.
Bishop Michael Olson's first talk at Theology on Tap was part Catholic Answers Live and part stand-up comedy routine. Drawing an overflow crowd at BJ's Brewhouse in Hurst May 5, Bishop Olson pulled a Pope Francis-like move in opting for an off-the-cuff question-and-answer session with his young adult audience.
Father Gerald Cooney died Saturday, May 3. Fr. Cooney had been a priest since 1950 and was the longest-ordained priest of the Diocese of Fort Worth. He was also the founding pastor of St. Bartholomew Parish in Southwest Fort Worth. "He was a really solid Catholic priest. He went exactly by what the Church teaches," said Julia Vecera, who had known and been friends with Fr. Cooney since he helped establish St. Bartholomew in 1969.


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The 2012 Geneva Motor Show gave way to the new generation Audi A3 , and Audi is following up that release with the debut of the five-door Sportback version at the 2012 Paris Auto Show. The new model will go on sale in February 2013, with prices in Germany starting from €22,500, or $29,144 at the current rates.
When compared to the standard three-door version, the new Sportback is 73 mm longer and has a 35 mm longer wheelbase. It is also 58 mm longer compared to the outgoing A3 Sportback . This allows the new Sportback an additional 380 liters of boot space, or about 15 liters more than the three-door model.
At its launch, the Audi A3 Sportback will be offered with a choice of one TDI and two TFSI engines, with two diesel engines and one gasoline unit arriving at a later date. All engines will be offered with a standard 6-speed manual gearbox, as well as an optional S tronic transmission.
Hit the jump to read more about the 2013 Audi A3 Sportback.
The new A3 Sportback has been built on an MQB platform that makes it 198 lbs lighter than the outgoing model. As a result, the version equipped with a 1.4 liter engine now weighs an impressive 2,656 lbs. Overall, the model has grown, measuring 4,310 millimeters in length, 1,780 millimeters in width, and 1,425 millimeters in height.
The exterior design language was already previewed in the three-door version of the new A3, so there's not much of a surprise there. At the front of the vehicle there is a distinctive stone gray single-frame grille and flat headlights with optional xenon plus headlights and LED daytime running lights. At the rear, the model gets LED rear lights in combination with the xenon plus headlights, a small diffuser, and, depending on the engine, the exhaust system terminates in one or two tailpipes on the left side of the car.
Customers will get to choose between 13 exterior colors: three solid finishes, eight metallic finishes, and two pearl-effect finishes. These exterior colors can be combined with the usual S-Line package and an optional high-gloss package that adds accents around the windows.
The elegant look of the exterior continues on the interior where Audi has used the highest quality materials, as well as the latest technologies offered by the company. The center console has been designed to offer the best driving experience and comes with intuitively clean ergonomics. Just like all of the other models, the new A3 Sportback is offered with the MMI operating system with a power-retractable monitor and the MMI radio. Many control elements are optionally available in an aluminum-look finish for the Control units. The steering wheel can be ordered in different versions, depending on the trim level chosen: three or four spokes, a flat-bottomed rim, multifunction buttons, and shift paddles.
The interior offers more options in its interior design with three different interior choices: Attraction, Ambition, and Ambiente. The Attraction model comes with a black or titanium gray interior and standard cloth seats. The Ambition features an all black or black with additional silver interior with blue or yellow contrasting elements, and cloth seats. The Ambiente has a beige and chestnut brown interior with a mix of cloth and synthetic leather for the seats. As an option, customers can choose Milano leather or a combination of Pearl Nappa leather and Alcantara.
The optional S line sport package will completely immerses the interior in black and will add sports seats covered with a combination of Biathlon cloth and leather, inlays in a matte brushed aluminum or high-gloss 3D-design black, a shift lever with perforated leather and a special leather sport steering wheel.
Engine Line-up
At its launch, the new A3 Sportback will be offered with a choice of one TDI and two TFSI engines, with two diesel engines and one gasoline unit arriving at a later date. All engines will be offered with technologies like direct injection, turbocharging, innovative thermal management, and the start-stop system, which can reduce fuel consumption by about 10% when compared to the outgoing model.
The base TDI version is a 1.6 TDI engine that delivers an impressive fuel economy of 61.90 mpg and will sprint the car from 0 to 60 mph in 10.9 seconds and up to a top speed of 120 mph. Next, there's a 2.0 TDI offered in two versions. The base version delivers a total of 150 HP and 236 lbs-ft and sprints the car from 0 to 60 mph in 8.4 seconds and up to a top speed of 132 mph. The top version delivers a total of 184 HP and will sprint the A3 from 0 to 60 mph in 7.4 seconds and up to a top speed of 144 mph. This version delivers a fuel economy of 54 mpg.
Customers interested in gasoline engines will have a base version powered by a 1.2 TFSI engine that generates a total of 105 HP and 129 lbs-ft of torque. When mated to the S-tronic gearbox, this version will sprint the car from 0 to 60 mph in 10.7 seconds and up to a top speed of 119 mph. Fuel consumption on this version is 48 mpg.
The gasoline line-up continues with a new 1.4 engine offered in two versions. The base version delivers a total of 122 HP and 147 lbs-ft of torque and will sprint the car from 0 to 60 mph in 9.3 seconds and up to a top speed of 149 mph. The second version delivers a total of 140 HP and 184.39 lb-ft of torque and will sprint the car from 0 to 60 mph in 8.4 seconds and up to a top speed of 132 mph. This engine has a fuel economy of 50 mpg.
Finally, the most powerful gasoline engine is a 1.8 TFSI that delivers a total of 180 HP and 184 lb-ft of torque. It sprints the car from 0 to 60 mph in 7.3 seconds and up to a top speed of 144 mph. Fuel consumption is 42 mpg. Also, starting 2013, Audi will be offering a new, 110 HP TCNG engine that will power the Audi e-gas version and as of 2014 the e-tron version will join the line-up.
All engines will be paired with a manual six-speed transmission or an optional S tronic.
The new Audi A3 Sportback will go on sale in February 2013; prices in Germany will start from €22,500, or about $29,000 at the current rates (for the 1.2 TFSI version).
There are plenty of competitors for Audi, but we'll focus on the ones that have just hit the market or will be hitting the market soon. One of these models is the Volvo V30 - a four-door version of the current C30 set to arrive in late 2012 or early 2013. The timing of this release may just send the new A3 Sportback into a state of panic because, although not much is known about the future car, the spy shots of the vehicle make the redesign look promising. Then there's the new BMW 1-Series Sport and Urban Line unveiled at the 2011 Frankfurt Auto Show. This model is offered with a choice of two of the latest-generation four-cylinder petrol engines and three radically redesigned four-cylinder diesel units, with power ranging from 116 HP to 184 HP.
- More interior space
- Lots of engines to choose from
- Very cool exterior
- Stiff competition with more luxury


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10 years ago Bristol Motor Speedway owner Bruton Smith offered the University of Tennessee and Virginia Tech 20 million to play a college football game at the world's fastest half mile oval.
Maybe coach Jones knew something then - the Volunteers and Hokies will play a football game at B-M-S in 2016 according to multiple sources.I've also learned that officials from both schools were at the race track about a week ago and that cones were put down to mark the endzones.The scoring tower in the middle of the infield obviously will be taken down and the Volunteers will be the home team, so the schools can take advantage of the SEC television package.The speedway holds over 150-thousand. the attendance record for college football is over 115-thousand, set last month at Michigan Stadium for the Michigan-Notre Dame game.Neither school is talking but the Bristol Motor Speedway has scheduled a press conference for Monday morning. News Channel 11 will be live at the speedway and we will live stream the press conference right here on WJHL. com. Copyright 2013 WJHL. All rights reserved.
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By dotCore
via github.com
Published: Feb 05 2013 / 23:07
Last week, between Thursday, January 24 and Friday, January 25 we experienced a critical outage surrounding our newly-launched Code Search service. As always, we strive to provide detailed, transparent post-mortems about these incidents. We'll do our best to explain what happened and how we've mitigated the problems to prevent the cause of this outage from occurring again.


text: Last year's playoff rivals battled it out again Wednesday night at the Verizon Center in Washington DC with the Rangers in search of their sixth straight win. Unfortunately, the Caps had other ideas and came away with a 4-1 home victory. View this collection of photos from the game, then comment below.


text: MINNEAPOLIS, MN (KDAL) - For the second straight game the Twins could muster little offense against a Texas rookie. Last night Rangers' starter Justin Grimm held the Twins to no runs on five hits through seven innings en route to a 4-3 Rangers victory. The Twins only real offense came in the bottom of the ninth thanks to an Oswaldo Arcia 3-run homer off former Twin Joe Nathan. The teams face off again today at 3:10 at Target Field, when the Twins' Pedro Hernandez will oppose veteran Derek Holland. Listen to that on KDAL.


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Major in Multimedia
You want a program that combines your love for the web and the flexibility to learn the multiple skills you need today to have a successful career in multimedia. Our multimedia major includes classes in a rich variety of new technologies and traditional journalism to teach you to be adept at writing, web design, online journalism and even audio and video technology.
Alumni Profile
Meet 2012 alumna Erin Price, web designer and developer at United Steelworkers .
Take Action
Students can work with the print or web editions of The Globe, The Cavalcade and other student media. They can also join the campus chapters of professional organizations like the Online News Association.
Multimedia Course Offerings
You will receive a well-rounded education through Point Park's core curriculum and classes in your major. Some of the courses in the multimedia major include:
- Desktop/Electronic Publishing
- Digital Photo Editing
- Information Graphics
- Online journalist
- Publications Production
- Social Media
- Video Production and Editing
- Web Publishing
For a comprehensive list of program requirements and course descriptions, see the program guide links at the top of the page and the School of Communication course descriptions.
Multimedia Internships
Internships are available at a number of media, nonprofit, agency, governmental and corporate locations in the Pittsburgh area and beyond.
Careers in Multimedia
With a B.A. degree in multimedia, you will have the option to pursue various career opportunities, such as:
- Graphics designer
- Multimedia reporter/producer
- Online journalist
- Page/newsletter/publication designer
- Social media specialist
- Web content producer
- Web editor


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Share your comments
Remembering smell
Bonnie Blodgett
Adult Nonfiction RF342 .B66 2010
Bonnie Blodgett
Adult Nonfiction RF342 .B66 2010
Summary: In this engaging memoir, Blodgett recounts how she lost her sense of smell and ultimately learned the most transformative lesson of all: the olfactory nerve, in ways unlike any other in the human body, has the extraordinary power to heal.
Be the first to add a comment! Share your thoughts about this title. Would you recommend it? Why or why not?
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burrito at el farolito in san francisco. the bay area is known for its bomb mexican food, and this divey establishment in the mission district is both vegan-friendly and LEGIT delicious.
laura from vegansaurus turned me onto this place, saying they offered the best vegan burrito in town. it comes shoved full of black or pinto beans (those are both vegan!), rice, pico de gallo, and avocado. additionally, the restaurant is equipped with a huge salsa bar boasting fresh jalapenos and crazy hot sauces, plus free chips with your order—-score! while i haven't eaten every vegan burrito in SF, i can definitely say that this is one of the top 2 burritos i've ever eaten in my life. massive, delicious, authentic, vegan. it's battling pokez for the throne.
if you're ever in SF, hit up el farolito! (i think they have several locations)


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City man charged in DUI crashMarch 22,2013Man facing a DUI
charge after crash
Vermont State Police said a Rutland man was intoxicated when he drove through a guardrail at the intersection of Cold River and Stratton roads in Rutland Town early Thursday.
Police, town firefighters and a Regional Ambulance Service crew were called just after 2 a.m. to the intersection, where a 2001 Ford Explorer went through a guardrail and over two large rocks before stopping.
The driver, James Fitzsimmons, 28, was taken to Rutland Regional Medical Center for what police described as unknown injuries. He was not listed as a patient at the hospital late Thursday afternoon, according to a hospital spokeswoman.
Fitzsimmons was processed for a drunken driving offense at the hospital, police said.
He was not wearing a seat belt, police said.MORE IN This Just InAn alleged fight outside a bar between Red Sox and Yankees fans has led to the suspension of two... Full StoryTractor show set Full StoryInmate arraigned Full Story
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- RICHARD'S POOR ALMANACK: Dutch father of microbiology Antonie van Leeuwenhoek discovers the existence of one-celled organisms; in 1967, The Doors are booked to play the Ed Sullivan show; in 1858, freedom fighter Dred Scott dies on this day in St. Louis.
- TOMORROW'S HEADLINES TODAY: No money this year for western rail project, Lola Aiken memorialized in Montpelier, Supreme Court Castleton murder suspect will remain in jail, Shaftbury man fires shots from his AK-47 into neighbor's home.
- RICHARD'S POOR ALMANACK: On this day in 1959, Soviet Premier Nikita S. Khrushchev arrives in U.S. for historic 13-day visit; in 1987, Secretary of State George Shultz and Soviet Foreign Minister Eduard Shevardnadze sign nuclear reduction agreement.
- TOMORROW'S HEADLINES TODAY: City celebrates completion of its newest mural, on West Street opposite the post office, more than $2 million in federal grants will bolster Vermont's health centers, Patrick McArdle reports on pending sale of Vermont papers.
- RICHARD'S POOR ALMANACK: Henry Hudson sails up the Hudson River as far as present-day Albany, Leo Szilard has epiphany waiting for the light to change, 3 kids report a West Virginia close encounter in 1952.


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text: Close MLS Game Summary - Chivas USA at Los Angeles (Sunday, June 8, 2014) From The Sports Network Final Score: Los Angeles 1, Chivas USA 1 Carson, CA (SportsNetwork.com) - Chivas USA and the Los Angeles Galaxy shared the spoils in the latest installment of the SuperClasico as the two sides played to a 1-1 draw at the StubHub Center on Sunday. The Goats took a shock lead after 20 minutes when Erick Torres pounced on a giveaway in the Galaxy penalty area, evaded a couple defenders and fired a shot past Jaime Penedo. But the lead lasted just 15 minutes as Gyasi Zardes leveled the score, meeting a cross from Marcelo Sarvas and nodding home his third goal of the season. It proved to be the final strike of the game as the two sides settled for a point. Chivas (2-7-5) remains at the foot of the Western Conference table on 11 points, six points back of the Galaxy (4-3-5). 06/08 22:02:02 ET