April Lindner

Photograph by Jenny Spinner I've long been a fan of poet Marilyn Nelson--of her adept use of traditional forms, her extended explorations of history and personal spirituality, her desire to reach a wide readership that includes middle- and high-schoolers and not just the usual, insular adult audience sought by most poets.   Marilyn is also impressively prolific, with two new collections published in quick succession-- American Ace : ...and My Seneca Village :  Earlier this week, Marilyn paid a visit to Saint Joseph's University, to read in our Writing Series.   Among the poems she shared were a couple of very striking newer ones from Sacred Sisters, a collaboration with visual artist Holly Trostle Brigham .  Marilyn's poems and Holly's paintings depict the lives of nuns who also were artists.  This one was first published by the Academy of American Poets in their Poem-a-Day program :  Hilaria Batista...

Pope Francis rolls into Independence Mall For a vibrant, world-class city, Philly has a bit of an inferiority complex.  How could it not, in the twin shadows cast by those heavyweights, Washington D.C. and New York City?   Maybe that's why Rocky Balboa resonates so much here.  The scruffy, down-on-his-luck prizefighter who gets one shot at the big time?  That was us this weekend, when the World Meeting of Families brought Pope Francis to our city. For Catholics and the many non-Catholics who admire this Pope for his vision, his humility, his heart, and his willingness to shake things up, Philly was--for a shining moment-- Caput Mundi.   Here's what you experienced if you braved the Popepocalypse: --Deliciously car-free streets. --Singing in unexpected places. --Pilgrims from around the globe. --A rainbow of habits, vestments, and robes. --Bobbleheads and Hug-a-Popes: Families: Enthusiastic college students: ...

La Dolce Vita, Firenze-style On Thanksgiving Eve, as I make cranberry relish, my grandmother's Italian-style stuffing, and Mississippi Mud Cake, I've been taking brief breaks between all the grating, mixing, and sauteeing to dip into The Stones of Florence by the inimitable Mary McCarthy. See the underlining?  I made it in 1985, when I was just back from my first trip to Europe, a solo backpacking expedition that turned me into the rabid Italophile I've been ever since.   Vespa showroom Now I'm revisiting McCarthy's classic book as I choose texts for a travel-writing class I'm planning--a study tour to Italy that will run from June 28 to July 29.  We will be based in Rome, with excursions to Sorrento, Assisi, Pompeii, Orvieto, Capri, and, of course, Firenze! Are you dreaming of Firenze too?  There's still space left in my class.  Any college student in a degree-granting program (graduate or undergraduate) is welcome to apply.  We...

Though my season of ceaseless book signings is behind me, I do have one more very special (to me at least!) event planned.  I'll be signing copies of Catherine and Jane at Saint Joseph's University (where I teach) on 11/11 at 11 a.m., in the bookstore.  If you live in or near Philadelphia, consider dropping by.  (Luckily, there's free retail parking behind the bookstore.) Also, as the release date for Love, Lucy approaches, I've been busy putting together the playlist of songs that Lucy would have heard on her travels through Italy.  That playlist will be featured on a book blog near you, as the amazing Alexis and Ashley of With Her Nose Stuck in a Book are planning a musical Book Blast closer to the release day (January 27, 2015). Rock Star Book Tours has also got something special planned for Lucy's debut: a book blast about how the novel was informed by my own misadventures backpacking solo through Europe at age 22.  I might have to dig up so...

Reflection, Post Learning Commons Every August, the dread creeps in.  I fret over summer's end--the impending loss of my freedom and precious writing time.  But something strange always happens on the first day of school.  I remember all over again why I wanted to be a college professor in the first place. The reasons are visceral:     Walking across campus  under a brilliant August sky, a bag of books swinging from my shoulder.  Students hurrying between classes or lingering on the library steps. Strolling through hushed hallways, past classes already in session.   Faculty offices with their floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.  Old books that smell of vanilla and must.  New books with deliciously uncracked spines. Freshly sharpened pencils, brand new Sharpies, and that rapidly vanishing entity, chalk dust.   Look what I found on the third floor of Bellarmine Hall! The hopeful nervousness of freshmen wai...

Final exams have begun on Hawk Hill.  As I type this, my Young Adult Fiction Writing students are bent over their blue books, outlining the rest of the YA novels they've begun writing this semester.  I hope to send them off into the world with the seeds of something they can keep working on in the future--something that will become a whole novel someday or, at the very least, that novel-in-a-drawer so many writers hang onto--the one they cut their teeth on, the apprentice work that enables them to go on to write another, better novel. In this class we wrote up a storm but we also read four knockout examples of what YA can be and do--John Green's The Fault in Our Stars , Laurie Halse Anderson's Speak , David Levithan's Every Day , and Sara Zarr's How to Save a Life.   The students also chose, read and presented on YA novels that spoke to the work they were doing, either thematically or stylistically.  That way, in the limited time we had, we could at least ...

Hawk Hill--our fond nickname for Saint Joseph's University--has burst into blossom just in time for the last few days of class.  This is the crazy busy time of year, with huge stacks of papers and journals to be graded, high-stakes faculty meetings to attend, and many loose ends to be tied up. It's also time to give out course evaluations and wait awkwardly in the hallway while the students fill them out. Summer--when I will be finishing my Greek novel draft 2.0 and polishing my poetry-collection-in-progress--is so close I can almost taste it.   Greek Sweets

It's spring on Hawk Hill, and last Sunday was Admitted Student Day.  This time for once I got to attend as the parent of an incoming hawk, and to see my workplace, Saint Joseph's University, through the eyes of someone about to begin a new chapter there, about to discover and define his adult self. Is it any surprise the colors were a little brighter, the air a whole lot fresher than they've been in a long time? For the very first time, I got to see the inside of the art department, where my son Noah wants to study. I got to see the sculpture in progress, the still lifes waiting to be painted: I got to visit the stained glass and carved wood sanctum of the art history classroom and absorb some of Noah's readiness to move in and get started.   All of which helped me remember the reason I wanted to be a college professor in the first place: so I could spend my working life on a campus, surrounded by the energy of people learning new things and by the ...

Nico is emitting powerful "stop grading and hug me" vibes. Meanwhile  the struggle for the future of Saint Joseph's University wages on: Saint Mary's Hall Saint Ignatius, founder of the Jesuits To pacify myself/procrastinate, I look at pictures of travels past and dream of travels future. With my sister: outside the duomo in Florence and inside the duomo And I look forward to Monday.  If I can only grade fast enough, I can let myself return to my Greek novel on Monday. At Knossos, looking up