The Sewanee Conglomerate
Named for the uppermost rock formation in Sewanee's corner of the Cumberland Plateau, the Sewanee Conglomerate is the magazine's blog. Check here for short pieces about books and current events written by SR staff and guest contributors.
I told François that I was sitting in my car, parked in front of a Walmart, afraid to enter the store.
Aside from a mask, I have little protection to give them as they go. And I am left with the painful impression that a doctor with no answers is no doctor at all.
“How can a nation be great if its bread tastes like Kleenex?” Julia Child said, and my mother agreed. She bought frozen Pepperidge hard rolls and baked them in the oven, trying to duplicate the brittle crust, the taste of real bread. Now, I found myself thinking of her every time I weighed the risks of going into a store just for a fresh baguette.
I feel uneasy when any critic announces a poet’s themes and thesis because, at a certain point, poems aren’t interested in anything other than the voices and words they inhabit. If I were so moved, I’d argue that Hạo’s collection doesn’t have a subject; and that his poems resist paraphrase.
But the coronavirus, like any natural disaster, is likely to surprise us. It will certainly change our country. It already has. How we emerge from this pandemic, and this economic illness decades in the making, is unclear.
Thon’s story goes one step further: it offers grace, an absolution that requires no atonement.
Before COVID-19, the thing we were fighting was simply a prison sentence. Now, during these COVID days, an illness will kill you before time does.
In the first week or so after everything shut down a lot of people were jumping the fence to hit. To discourage play, the nets were removed. There’s something forlorn and desolate about a tennis court without a net