Bookish News

2019 Locus Award Winners and Other Bookish News

Missed this series? Don’t worry, I’ve got lots of bookish news to share this week!

-The 2019 Locus Award Winners have been announced! Click here to see the list.

9 New Books coming out in July.

Elizabeth Acevedo wins the Carnegie Medal, becomes the first writer of color to win the award. Acevedo is Dominican-American and won for her children’s book, The Poet X.

-Fresh off the rave reviews for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman’s Sandman stories are also set to become a TV series. Here are all the details.

Joy Harjo named Poet Laureate, becomes first Native American to hold the title.

-Something to look forward to in 2020: we’re getting a Hunger Games prequel novel. Check out the details here.

-And just for fun: what your favorite beach read says about you.

Featured Poem, Poetry

Featured Poem: Remember

By Joy Harjo

Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star’s stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is.
Remember the sun’s birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother’s, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life, also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe.
Remember you are all people and all people
are you.
Remember you are this universe and this
universe is you.
Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember language comes from this.
Remember the dance language is, that life is.
Remember.

 

via Poets.org

Featured Poem, Poetry

Featured Poem: Perhaps the World Ends Here

By Joy Harjo

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.

At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.

We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.

 

via Poets.org