The Northfield Hospital Auxiliary Book Sale is an April tradition here for the past 61 years. With more than 300 volunteers and 70,000 donated items for sale, this week-long event is heady for any bibliophile. So heady, in fact, that for several years I decided not to go, because I was concerned that I would claim too many books for my already wobbly stacks.
This year, having done lots of decluttering, I was bitten by the book-buying bug again. I decided to brave the opening evening crush, and I am glad I did, even though rain threatened, and I had to park several blocks away (a rare event for a Northfield gathering) and carry two (heavy and bulging) nylon bags back to the car. Fortunately, the rain held off, and I was able to find some fiction I was seeking by two writers of interest to me now (Willa Cather and Ivan Doig.) I also succumbed to the eye-candy of several quilt books, not only for the pleasure of looking at this form of art but for inspiration to use more of my large library of fabrics in future projects. Below are a few photos from Tuesday evening. I believe that I shall return for another peek at the remaining quilt books today, without the press of the big crowds.
It is a wonderful thing to live in a place where people love books and reading, and express this love in a way that benefits local health care. The Book Sale continues until Saturday, April 27. On Friday, April 26, all titles are half-price (meaning only 50 cents to a dollar for most books.) On Saturday morning, from 8:00 a.m. until 12:30 p.m., the remaining books can be had for $5 per bag; and then until the sale closes at 3:00 p.m., the last books are free.
Here’s hoping that you will find a new gem to read before the month is out–from a book sale, an independent bookstore like Northfield’s Content, a large retailer, a loan from a friend, a pick from a Little Free Library,…or even a forgotten jewel on your own library shelves! LESLIE
It is difficult to say a permanent goodbye to a friend. For many, many people, Ted Haaland was not only a friend but an inspiration. When his wife, Maria, died, he channeled his grief into writing poetry–an art form she loved but one that he had never tried before. For the rest of his life, he wrote at least one–sometimes several–poems each day, many in the sonnet form. Ted’s remarkable understanding was that new learning, even in harsh circumstances, is a way forward into new life.
Since Ted’s death on February 17th, I have been thinking a lot about how one person’s actions can have an enormous ripple effect on other people, even those the person has never met. Without the Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest, I might never have met the friends I have in Winona, including Ted, or been drawn into the rich arts life of this beautiful Minnesota river town.
Without the Sonnet Contest, I might never have been re-energized about the possibilities of the sonnet form. I suspect that this is true for hundreds and hundreds of other poets who have been inspired by the contest’s existence and by the extraordinary examples of contemporary sonnets that win prizes each year. Sonnets are judged blind, and after winners are selected each year, it is clear that the contest is drawing entrants and winners who are young or middle-aged or older; who come from our region or country or from other countries on other continents; who are emerging poets–perhaps who have never had work published before–or are experienced poets with many books published. This contest is truly open to new possibilities within the sonnet form, open to anyone who wishes to try their hand at writing one.
Next Tuesday, Ted’s friends in Winona will be celebrating his life and his living legacy. At the same time, we will be celebrating National Poetry Month and the 2024 launch of the ongoing Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest which he has endowed. Tim and I plan to attend. We would love to see you there, if you can make it! LESLIE
Below is the press release for the event on April 30th, provided by the managing director of the contest, Heidi Bryant.
WINONA, MN — The Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest invites you to celebrate the opening of this year’s contest and National Poetry Month on Tuesday, April 30, 2024, from 6:30 9:00 pm at theBlue Heron Coffeehouse (162 W 2 nd St.). Light refreshments will be served. This event is free and open to the public.
Live music by Flutistry will accompany social time starting at 6:30pm. At 7:00pm, we will celebrate the life and legacy of the contest’s benefactor and former director, Ted Haaland who passed away on February 17th . Ted spent the years following the death of his beloved Maria writing poetry every day. Under his leadership, a small, local contest spread around the world, with the 2023 event receiving 700 sonnets from poets in 43 US states and 16 other countries. Ted’s friends and admirers are invited to say a few words and/or share a poem inhis honor at this event. Friends are also invited to attend a memorial service for Ted on Friday, May 3 rd at 10am at Hoff Funeral Home in Winona.
About the Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest: The Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest is an annual event that welcomes entries from around the world to Winona. Prizes totaling $3,200 are awarded in four categories: Top Four, Regional, Youth, and Laureates’ Choice. The contest honors the memory of Maria W. Faust: a Winona State University graduate in Communications; a twenty-year resident of Winona; an avid supporter of varied local arts; and a lover of poetry. Maria’s husband, Ted Haaland, is the contest’s benefactor, with the goal of keeping Maria’s love of poetry alive in our community and beyond.
The judges’ panel includes Winona’s Poets Laureate James Armstrong, Ken McCullough and Emilio DeGrazia, and Leslie Schultz of Northfield, MN. Heidi Bryant is the managing director of the contest. Great River Shakespeare Festival and River Arts Alliance are partners. To learn more about the Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest, please visit sonnetcontest.org or email entries@sonnetcontest.org. Information about National Poetry Month is available at poets.org/national-poetry-month.
Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell, subtitled “A Novel of the Plague,” was published in 2020. It is an amazing novel with amazing timing, coming as it did at the height of the global pandemic that disrupted all of our lives. Later than most, I have only recently read this justly celebrated novel. It explores the timeless themes of marriage and grief by reimagining Shakespeare’s early life in Stratford-upon-Avon, his relationships with his parents, his marriage to Anne (or Agnes) Hathaway, and his joy in being a father coupled with his restless pursuit of his art in the capital city of London.
I have previously read O’Farrell’s The Vanishing of Esme Lennox and The Marriage Portrait, so I knew that she is a powerful writer. This year, I read Hamnet with a group of book-minded friends, and I was glad to be able to discuss this work with other readers.
I have never read anything else that so vividly evoked the English countryside in the late 16th century, in contrast to the sights, odors, opportunities, and perils of the capital city of London. I also liked the way that this remarkable novel shed its imaginative light on the private life of young Will Shakespeare and his wooing of and marriage to local heiress Anne Hathaway. What was most enaging to me as a reader, however, were the subtle and poignant ways that this work of historical fiction conjured the universals twins of happiness and grief. There are several polished reviews available–especially those of The New Yorker, The New York Times, and The Guardian–that are more scholarly and articulate than I am. Still, I thought I would share some of the notes from my reading journal here. (Apologies for any plot spoilers or cryptic passages!)
“It is rare that a book makes me weep actual tears, but this one did when I read the scene in which Agnes is washing her son, dead of the bubonic plague, and wrapping him in his shroud.
“Beyond the human drama, and the deft psychology throughout (including Joan, the dissatisfied step-mother and necessary malicious plot-turner who shows up with a playbill for Hamlet), and the delightful evocation of the Elizabethan countryside, and the agile speculation about who Shakespeare was in his private moments, there is so much more.
“I especially like thinking, with O’Farrell in the lead, of how twins–twins changing clothes, twins as completions of each other, of cheating death through a costume ruse, and of the the roles of the natural worlds (the Forest of Arden, the herbal garden, the river bank) influenced Shakespeare’s work. I also very much liked the ending, where two kinds of magic flow: the magic of the theater and the magic of healing, the healing power of story and poetry functioning almost as a medicinal botancial. The ending carries for me that rare satisfaction of adequate explanation while maintaining a sense of mystery.”
In Other Shakespeare News:
What could be more English than a cup of tea? We were given some wonderful white peach-matcha green tea from British firm of Harney & Sons for Christmas this year (many thanks, Danielle and Luke!) I like it so much that I have reordered it twice, so I was on the alert list for their newest offering:
And it was in looking at this web advertisment that I found a link to the restored Globe Theatre in London, featured in the climax of O’Farrell’s novel, the debut performance there of the play, Hamlet. What particularly delighted me about this link to the GLOBE is that it offers a virtual tour of the performance space. If you take it, you can see, under the canopy under the stage, the depiction of the heavens, including the Sun, the Moon, and all twelve signs of the Zodiac, beautifully painted against a celestial blue. There is much more on the Globe’s site, including filmmed clips from performance and a wild bouquet of dramaturgy across the plays.
I hope you will find a way to tuck a little Shakespeare into your day. Perhaps reread your favorite sonnet, check out Hamnet from your local library, or simply reflect on his assertion that “All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players?” If this is true, what part do you play, and what part do you want to play?
I had hoped to be able to write at least one new poem during this National Poetry Month 2024, and I did. The poem below, written for Earth Day, reflects on how we are all made of earthern materials, just as all the creation myths describe. Millenia older than writing, and still a forceful way for young humans to mark their presence, the hand print will never lose its power for either the maker or the viewer.
Terracotta
Handprints on cave walls splay,
outlined with iron oxides—
red, white, black &
yellow ochre, charcoal, clay.
Human touch everywhere:
yes, notice, too,
we are each signed, stamped
vessels of earthenware.
Leslie Schultz
I am grateful to Lynn Sara Lawrence for sharing photos with me–and now here–from her travels to ancient sites and museums in Europe that safeguard and interpret early art. (Note: her photographs are of facsimilies on display, not of actual cave art, which is carefully protected.) I had not heard before of Musée de l’Homme in Paris, and now wish that I could see their current exhibtion called “Préhistomania.”
I hope that today you find a way to make your mark while also living lightly–and light-heartedly–on our shared Earth.
The final section of Geranium Lake is titled “Roadside Attraction.” It contains poems about what might be termed outsider art, from haute coutre to the fiberglass statue of the Jolly Green Giant or the simple design of the oriole feeder above. Innovation, inspiration, and good design can be found all around us. I, for one, do regard these one-of-a-kind objects as art.
Zinc
for Corrine
Years ago, my now-deceased neighbor
set out small zinc dishes, fitted
them into shallow depressions she routed out
into the wood of her back-porch railing
before filling them with purple jelly.
She had made the jelly, too,
from fruit of the crabapple tree at the front
of her house. She was set on enticing
the orange wink and blur of northern orioles
to this feeder of her own design
again, that spring, when she’d called me to bring
my fitful camera. We waited, talking
softly in the green-shadowed garden.
None of the orioles came that afternoon,
but her own nature, the sweetness of intention,
pierces me now from behind my chance image,
this still-glossy photograph: a churned
surface of red-violet jelly, like a sea storm
at sunset, and one delirious drunken wasp,
diving headlong, accepting the sublime dish.
Leslie Schultz
This concludes the preview to Geranium Lake. Later this summer, when the book is published, I will make an announcement here. Thank you for allowing me to share a first glimpse with you. It isn’t enclycopedic work on art–there are no poems in Geranium Lake inspired by film, fiction, dance, or drama, for instance–but I have enjoyed putting this collection together. Perhaps someday, in another book, I will have other poems that reflect and consider other forms of art and art-making. In any case, I shall keep my eyes open and my pencil ready!
Meanwhile, I hope you will see art in expected, and unexpected, places–today and everyday!