2016-07-30

sovay: (Cho Hakkai: intelligence)
My life lately has been crowded and complicated. I may be scarce on the internet over the next few days as I begin the process of moving house—for a temporary tenancy, alas, but that doesn't mean I don't still have to pack up all of my stuff. The good news is that at the moment my stuff mostly consists of four pieces of furniture, two suitcases and a small dresser's worth of clothing, and a hundred and ten books. I think. There are probably more books. They've been accruing in decorative stacks around this room since October. There are also some CDs and DVDs and a very small selection of fragile objects or art which will need to be packed carefully, but for better or worse the majority of my possessions are still in storage, so this is just the bare bones plus the accumulation of the last ten months. I'm counting a mattress as furniture. The mermaid desk lamp is definitely art. The fascinus is apotropaic magic and will be moved at the same time as my mezuzah. That was an inadvertent religious statement, but probably not a bad one.

I'll have to pack it with the rest of my contributor's copies, but tonight's mail brought me the print version of Spelling the Hours: Poetry Celebrating the Forgotten Others of Science and Technology, edited by Rose Lemberg. The cover features a photograph of Mary Alice McWhinnie, taken in 1962 when she was offshore Antarctica on the USNS Eltanin, studying the cold-water physiology of krill. The contents celebrate marginalized figures in the history of science, from the pioneering surgeon James Barry to the anonymous artists of The Universal History of the Things of New Spain, the astronomy of Paris Pişmiş and the mathematics of Rózsa Péter, the elided discoveries of Lise Meiter, Chien-Shiung Wu, and Jocelyn Bell Burnell—physicists all—and more. My Turing-and-Morcom poem "The Clock House" is reprinted from Stone Telling #7; my poem "Phliasian Investigations" appears here for the first time, addressed to the fourth-century philosopher Axiothea of Phlios. There are notes for all of the poems. I have to say I'd love to see the chapbook become a series: it is barely scratching the surface of scientists, scholars, and inventors who should be better known. By itself, though, Spelling the Hours is a small and powerful book of poems, as brightly burning as the anthology it was a reward for. Check it out and then write about some forgotten figures of your own.
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