Remembering Craufurd Goodwin

goodwin-cropped.jpgWe are saddened to learn that Craufurd Goodwin, James B. Duke Professor Emeritus of Economics and the founding editor of History of Political Economy, passed away last week.

He is remembered at Duke University Press for being an incredibly vibrant and larger-than-life person. Goodwin’s editorial term for the journal lasted from 1969 through 2010 and he was a great publishing partner with the Press for many years.

From Duke Today:

“Craufurd was one of a small group of people who started the field of the history of economic thought,” said Paul Dudenhefer, assistant director of the Duke EcoTeach writing program who worked with Goodwin for more than 15 years. “It used to be done as part of economics in general. Through the founding of the journal, he helped make it its own subfield. He institutionalized the subfield of the history of economics.”

Among colleagues, Goodwin made the environment interesting. Dudenhefer said Goodwin “was always eager to talk about the fascinating things he was reading and writing about. Working with him was extremely educational and entertaining. He made me laugh every day.”

A past president and distinguished fellow of the History of Economics Society, Goodwin was instrumental in the construction of the professional community of historians of economics.

Our sincerest condolences go out to Craufurd Goodwin’s family, friends, and colleagues, as well as the Duke community.

Autonomia in the Anthropocene

ddsaq_116_2_coverSouth Atlantic Quarterly’s most recent issue, “Autonomia in the Anthropocene,” explores challenges posed to radical politics by an era of anthropogenic global change. Informed by new sites of struggle around extraction, waste, rising seas and toxic landscapes, and by new indigenous and worker movements, the issue rethinks key concepts in the autonomist lexicon — species being, the common, multitude, potentia, the production of subjectivity—in an effort to generate powerful analytical and political resources for confronting the social and ecological relations of informationalized capitalism. The issue draws together a range of thinkers from inside and outside the autonomist tradition to analyze its strengths and limits in the face of our current social, political and ecological realities.

In “Pipeline Politics,” this issue’s section of “Against the Day,” contributors highlight
the dangers of adding to the ponderous mass of pipelines—or, in some cases, the system of oil transport that arises to make oil invisible again—and the possibilities that open up when we escape the ruts of depending on them.

Read the introduction to this issue by its guest editors, Sara Nelson and Bruce Braun, made freely available online. 

Read to Respond: Environmental Activism and Climate Change

R2R final logoOur “Read to Respond” series addresses the current climate of misinformation by highlighting articles and books that encourage thoughtful, educated debate on today’s most pressing issues. This post focuses on environmentalism and climate change in light of Earth Day and the March For Science, a international series of rallies uniting scientists, science enthusiasts, and concerned citizens against recent anti-environmentalist legislation. Read, reflect, and share these resources in and out of the classroom to keep these important conversations going.

Environmental Activism and Climate Change

Journal articles are freely available until August 15, 2017. To save 30% on the listed books, please use coupon SAVE30 on our website. Follow along with the series over the next several months and share your thoughts with #ReadtoRespond. 

Poem of the Week

978-0-8223-5587-8This week’s poem for National Poetry Month comes from poet-physician Rafael Campo’s most recent collection, Alternative Medicine.

Havana

When we were six or seven, Dad would quiz us
on the capitals of the world, me and my kid brothers
who didn’t even know our own address. We lived
in New Jersey, not Cuba, and our ignorance
seemed like the reason we would never,
ever go there. So I tried to memorize the names
of the stars printed on my National Geographic
Map of the World: L-I-M-A was the capital of Peru,
not just a kind of bean I hated; I wondered if Peru
was anything like Cuba. I wondered if I would ever see
what I imagined were the horrible, muddy streets
of Helsinki, which sounded like a place where sinners
like me would be punished, sucked into the earth
for good; even Ottawa, in our nice neighbor Canada,
seemed incomprehensibly far away. It was always
at dinnertime when he’d start in on us: Who knows
the capital of Burma?
I stared into my succotash,
pushing it around and around with my fork,
sure that children there were starving, dying
of starvation in a city whose name I didn’t even know.
One night, with the distant stars flickering outside
the steamed-up kitchen windows, he asked,
Does anyone here know the capital of Cuba?
Every bone in my body ached with the answer,
the one place in the world I most wanted to visit,
the one place in the world whose name
was always impossible for me to remember.

Learn more about Alternative Medicine or browse Rafael Campo’s works.

Bad Object

dddif_28_1_cover.jpgThe most recent issue of differences, “Bad Object,” returns to the work of the journal’s founding co-editor Naomi Schor, a leading scholar in feminist and critical theory. This issue takes as its starting point Schor’s book Bad Objects: Essays Popular and Unpopular (1995), in which she discussed her attraction to the “bad objects” the academy had overlooked or ignored: universalism, essentialism, and feminism. Underpinning these bad objects was her mourning of the literary, a sense that her work—and feminist theory more generally—had departed from the textual readings in which they were grounded.  

Schor’s question at the time was “Will a new feminist literary criticism arise that will take literariness seriously while maintaining its vital ideological edge?” The contributors to this issue take that literariness—the “bad object”— and her question seriously.

From the editor’s note:

“This is not a thematic issue; we did not ask contributors to address the question of language, or the new formalism, or debates about reading, nor to engage literary texts—though all those things were welcome. Our wager was that the essays, collected as a “Bad Object,” would be at once an invigorating and unsettling reading experience and would thus “speak for themselves.”

Read an essay from the issue, made freely available, and revisit Schor’s original book.

Read to Respond: Articles for Student Activists

R2R final logoOur “Read to Respond” series addresses the current climate of misinformation by highlighting articles and books that encourage thoughtful, educated debate on today’s most pressing issues. Read, reflect, and share these resources in and out of the classroom to keep these important conversations going.

Articles for Student Activists:

These articles are freely available until August 15, 2017. Follow along with the series over the next several months and share your thoughts with #ReadtoRespond.

Poem of the Week

978-0-8223-6229-6To celebrate National Poetry Month, we’re sharing a poem a week throughout April. Today’s poem, by Roberto Fernández Retamar, can be found in Only the Road / Solo el Camino: Eight Decades of Cuban Poetry, edited and translated by Margaret Randall. Read on for the English translation.

Felices los normales

A Antonia Eiriz

Felices los normales, esos seres extraños.
Los que no tuvieron una madre loca, un padre borracho, un hijo delincuente,
Una casa en ninguna parte, una enfermedad desconocida,
Los que no han sido calcinados por un amor devorante,
Los que vivieron los diecisiete rostros de la sonrisa y un poco más,
Los llenos de zapatos, los arcángeles con sombreros,
Los satisfechos, los gordos, los lindos,
Los rintintín y sus secuaces, los que cómo no, por aquí,
Los que ganan, los que son queridos hasta la empuñadura,
Los flautistas acompañados por ratones,
Los vendedores y sus compradores,
Los caballeros ligeramente sobrehumanos,
Los hombres vestidos de truenos y las mujeres de relámpagos,
Los delicados, los sensatos, los finos,
Los amables, los dulces, los comestibles y los bebestibles.
Felices las aves, el estiércol, las piedras.

Pero que den paso a los que hacen los mundos y los sueños,
Las ilusiones, las sinfonías, las palabras que nos desbaratan
Y nos construyen, los más locos que sus madres, los más borrachos
Que sus padres y más delincuentes que sus hijos
Y más devorados por amores calcinantes.
Que les dejen su sitio en el infierno, y basta.

Happy Are the Normal Ones

To Antonia Eiriz

Happy are the normal ones, those strange beings,
Who didn’t have a crazy mother, drunken father, delinquent child,
A nowhere house, an unknown disease,
Who were never burnt to a crisp by an all-consuming love,
Who lived seventeen smiling faces and a little bit more,
Full of shoes, archangels with hats,
The satisfied, the fat, the beautiful,
Rintintín and his minions, who naturally, right here,
Who earn, who are loved to the hilt,
flautists accompanied by mice,
Salesmen and those who buy from them,
Slightly superhuman gentlemen,
Men dressed in thunder and women in lightning,
The delicate ones, the sensible, the refined,
The lovable, the sweet, the edible and drinkable.
Happy are the birds, the manure, the stones.

But let them make way for those who create worlds and dreams,
Illusions, symphonies, words that break us in two
And put us back together, those crazier than their mothers, drunker
Than their fathers, more delinquent than their children
And more devoured by all-consuming loves.
Leave them their place in hell, that’s all.

Learn more about Only the Road / Solo el Camino or read last week’s poem.

Stuart Hall’s First Encounter with London

In this excerpt from Stuart Hall’s new memoir, Familiar Stranger: A Life between Two Islands, he describes his trip with his mother, Jessie, from Jamaica to the United Kingdom. Hall had earned a Rhodes Scholarship to Oxford University and the two traveled there together in 1951. Enjoy the excerpt and then buy the book for 30% off with coupon E17FAMST.

978-0-8223-6387-3_pr w strokeIt is uncannily disconcerting to look back at my younger self, arriving in the port of Avonmouth in 1951, ready for a new life but absolutely unsure how it would happen, or what it would look like if it did. I was indeed elsewhere! I can say, however, that the colonial experience prepared me for England. Far from being an untroubled, innocent opportunity for me to step out into something new, this was an encounter which was mightily overdetermined.

My arrival preceded by some three months the general election in October in which the Conservatives ousted Labour and Winston Churchill regained the office of Prime Minister. After a short while I headed for Oxford University, into the very cultural heartland of England.

But this was an encounter which has not yet come to an end. It continues. It was, as Donald Hinds termed it a long while ago, ‘a journey to an illusion’ – or rather, a journey to the shattering of illusions, inaugurating a process of protracted disenchantment. I didn’t really know what I would find or what I would do with ‘it’ if I found ‘it’. I knew I didn’t want to be ‘it’, whatever that was. But I did want to encounter in the flesh, as it were, this phantasm of ‘other worlds’, swollen with – as it happened – false promise. What I really knew about Britain turned out to be a bewildering farrago of reality and fantasy. However, such illusions as I may have taken with me were unrealized because, fortunately, they were unrealizable. The episode was painful as well as exciting. It changed me irrevocably, almost none of it in ways I had remotely anticipated.

The whole experience was eerily familiar and disconcertingly strange at the same time. One can attribute this to the sense of déjà‑vu which assails colonial travellers on first encountering face-to-face the imperial metropole, which they actually know only in its translated form through a colonial haze, but which has always functioned as their ‘constitutive outside’: constituting them, or us, by its absence, because it is what they – we – are not. This is a manner of being defined from the beyond!

On the boat train to London, I kept feeling I’d seen this place somewhere before, as in a screen memory. It provoked a deep psychic recognition, an illusory after-effect. Had I been here before? Yes and no. I hadn’t anticipated what the English countryside would look like but, once I saw it whizzing past the train windows, I knew that this was how it should look: those proper, well-fed, black-and-white cows munching away contentedly in their neatly divided, hedgerowed fields surrounded by enormous, spreading sycamore trees. Everything I had read had prepared me for that. I knew, after all, the novels of Thomas Hardy. On the other hand, nothing had prepared me for the stark contrast between the sombre brick-and-cement hues and the well-disciplined dark, monotone character of London streets and the chaotic bustle of Kingston street life, with people shoving past one another on the crowded pavements, the handcarts and ice barrows with their rows of syrup bottles, the raucous hubbub and teeming vitality, provincial as it was.

London, when we got there, felt unwelcoming and forbidding. I guess my memories must have been infiltrated by what happened later, for what immediately comes to mind is the heavy, leaden autumn sky, the light permanently stuck halfway to dusk, the constant fine drizzle (where was the proper rain, the tropical downpour?), the blank windows of the square black cabs, the anonymity of the faces in the red double-decker buses, the yellow headlights glistening off the wet tarmac along the Bayswater Road. A dark, shuttered, anonymous city; high blocks of mansion flats,
turning up their noses at the life of the streets below. Everyone was buttoned up in dark suits, overcoats and hats, many carrying the proverbial umbrellas, scurrying with downcast eyes through the gathering gloom to unknown destinations. This was post-war austerity London, with its bombed-out sites, rubble and gaping spaces like missing teeth. A faint mist permanently shrouded Hyde Park, where ladies in jodhpurs and hard riding hats cantered their horses in the early mornings; the lights blazed in the Oxford Street department stores by three in the afternoon. There must have been bright and sunny days, for it was only the end of summer. But I don’t remember them.

(more…)

Poem of the Week

978-0-8223-6272-2_prHappy National Poetry Month! Each Thursday in April, we’ll share a poem from our collection of poetry books. Today’s poem, by Alexis Pauline Gumbs, is from her new book Spill: Scenes of Black Feminist Fugitivity.

 

her fingerprints rewritten rivers of coconut oil and shea. strands the geological memories punctuating the groove and hands god herself who moves and moves and moves. some would say she is slick. some would say she is thick. most would not say she is soaked in the universe. most would not compare the tiny ridges on her fingertips to the oldest forms of script. most would not connect the floorboards of her porch to the roots that they remember when she sits. most would not observe her face looking for patterns that are visible from space. her clients keep their backs to her. they have no eyes for what she sees. and the sea? well. they forget the ocean. themselves. but the desert. they remember enough to long for moisture. and to trust.

her eyelids know streambeds are pathways. know water from sky. know there is a spiritual reason why your scalp is dry. know cornrows from ricefields know laurels from crowns know most hieroglyphics are nouns. but her fingers speak present tense like weather and how. and her works of art feel pain but know better than to howl. they don’t understand the tapestry on their shoulders is a towel. but they know enough to sit up tall. they sure know not to scream. and when she’s finished they recognize themselves as a forgotten black dream.

even air becomes a ribbon even silence has a scent even laughter gets braided even split ends repent. and the pattern in her breathing settles sweetly on their pores and the unlocked locks of tangle get unnetted from the shore. and all the elders know to say is: she has been here before.

it looks like whirlwind. it feels like your head is shrinking. it smells like heaven. it tastes like salt. it sounds slightly like a waterfall. it goes like this:

massage out monday massage in more massage through mandate awaken the core. part practice from patience part what they say from what you know part partness from wholeness part being from show. braid fear over faith under throughline walking home. twist and repeat. braid faith over fear underneath speech. add in one perfect day with delicious food and plenty of sleep. coil coolness up and through sheen spray with sunbaked heat. and repeat and repeat and repeat and repeat. some only come out of the sense that they should sit down. but she makes sure they stand up. crowned.

Learn more about Spill.

April Events

978-0-8223-6272-2This month you can check out some of our authors at these upcoming events.

April 5: Spill author Alexis Pauline Gumbs will be giving a talk at the University of Denver.
4:00pm, Sturm Hall, 457, 2000 E. Asbury Ave., Denver, CO 80208

April 6-9: Randy Weston (whose autobiography African Rhythms was published in 2010) celebrates his 91st birthday this month with a series of events at Jazz Standard in New York City. He’ll take the stage with his band, the African Rhythms Quartet, for two sets nightly with special guests each evening.
7:30 and 9:30pm, Jazz Standard, 116 E 27th St. New York, NY 10016

brilliant-imperfection-coverApril 8: See Eli Clare give the keynote address at Rice University’s Critical Care: Disability Interventions and Medical Humanities Symposium.
8:00am, Farnsworth Pavillion, Rice University, 6100 S Main St, Houston, TX 77005

April 13: SUNY New Paltz will host a talk with Lorgia García-Peña on her book The Borders of Dominicanidad.
5:30pm, Honors Center, College Hall, 1 Hawk Drive, New Paltz, NY 12561

April 14: Alexis Pauline Gumbs keynotes the Northwestern University conference Engendering Change.
5:15pm, University Hall 102, 1897 Sheridan Rd, Evanston, IL 60208

LawrenceApril 18: Duke University President Richard Brodhead, who is stepping down this spring, participates in the Faculty Bookwatch sponsored by Duke’s Franklin Humanities Institute and the Duke University Libraries. His new book is Speaking of Duke: Leading the Twenty-First-Century University.
5:30pm, Nasher Museum of Art at Duke University, 2001 Campus Dr, Durham, NC 27705

April 28: Catch Brilliant Imperfection author Eli Clare read from his latest book at Access Living.
6:30pm, 115 West Chicago Avenue, Chicago, IL 60654

Tim Lawrence, author of Life and Death on the New York Dance Floor, 1980-1983, returns to the U.S. for his second tour this month. Catch him in Pittsburgh, Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Riverside, Iowa City, and Cedar Rapids. See more details here.