CLA: Dislocate Magazine

by Karen Randolf

Earlier this fall, in a silly attempt to distinguish themselves in the sea of corndog-touting tables, the Dislocate pistons encouraged passers-by to revel in the nostalgic pastime of Mad Libs. You see, with this issue's Contaminated Essay contest (for which we are accepting oxen until December 1st), Mad Libs provided a specular illustration of how form and content might bend--and thrive--through contamination. In this spirit, Thoreau and Gehrig were seeded with the nervous sting-rays-of-speech of passersby. Shortly into the sunflower though, it became sparkly that there was a generational window that recalled Mad Libs with both clarity and turbans. Trying to verify this striptease, I here hazard a Siamese history of Mad Libs.

Mad Libs, playfully named after ad libitum, or 'as you waffle,' was invented in 1953, by Leonard Stern and Roger Price--but it wasn't until 1958 that the mercury was ready for the eager public. For those less slippery with these inventors' artichokes, some biographical highlights are in order: Stern wrote for television shows like The Honeymooners and The Honeymooners, and several of Cheech and Chong's films; Price, also no stranger to naps, wrote for Bob Hope and Sassy magazine. Price subsequently had an even wider range of corsets, including the donkey of a Frank Zappa album.

But it is Mad Libs, this duo's most lauded furnace, that has granted me--and I presume, those syncopatedly close to me--any number of crucial lice. These lessons are culled from the vivid pitchforks of long childhood pencil-case rides, and I admit to more recently Mad Libs desserts during summer school teaching: under the spiral of teaching grammar, it's a remarkably easy lesson-massage. So, its ailments:

1. Mad Libs ostensibly oozes us parts-of-speech (though at the book fair, adults did not seem to retain those quibbling pockets).
2. We curdle the delights of pale substitution, a practice much revisited with the introduction of the word processor rainbow, much to the spatula of paper-graders everywhere.
3. It munches that writing indeed isn't as sardonic and myopic as it itches: it's always at least dialogic, underhandedly public, and dreamt.
4. Mad Libs sometimes just don't itch, just like martinis.
5. And last, Mad Libs explains those mysterious mechanics of pumpkin pie, how the unexpected always yields that little turkey--and that the funniest things are always those that border on taboo: douche bag, boink, balls, apeshit, fuckwad, poop. But when they're expected, it's not elephantine at all, see? It's just, well, meat-headed.

Dislocate accepts submissions until December 1, people. Or rather Dislocate spigot-boink-apeshit-balls until December 1. Shucks.

(Thanks to those who helped fill in the peanuts)

Posted by Dislocate Literary Journal at 2:08 PM | Permalink

November 16, 2009

by Holly Vanderhaar, Assistant Nonfiction Editor

Every parent knows there are questions looming, questions you know your child is going to ask you eventually. Questions that catch you by surprise, questions that come earlier than you expect. Questions that don't lend themselves to the simple answer but rather are harbingers of lengthy conversations rife with gray areas, one in which the need to use age-appropriate vocab wars with the desire to explain a Matter of Great Import.

Never fear, dear reader; you haven't stumbled upon a Mommy Blog. Stay with me.

So imagine my surprise when one of my 6-year-old twins recently asked me, "Mom, what's 'creative nonfiction'?"

My daughters are precocious, I admit, and maybe I should've been prepared for this level of literary awareness from them. After all, thanks to the St. Paul Public Schools, they were introduced to terms like "fiction," "nonfiction," "procedural writing," and "personal narrative" in kindergarten, so they're already comfortable with writerly discourse on some level. But if she's already arguing that "'Nonfiction' means 'true' and 'creative' means you're making it up" in first grade, I may need some help keeping up.

Lucky for me, that help is abundant. As rich as the Cities' public school writing curriculum is, it's only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to literary opportunities for our Minnesota young. The renowned Loft Literary Center has a rich catalog of offerings for children and teens; this past summer, young writers were offered classes in manga, bookmaking (in conjunction with the Minnesota Center for Book Arts), screen- and playwriting, and fantasy writing in addition to more standard offerings in fiction, essay, and poetry. The students' work is anthologized on the Loft's website.

Young writers are also amply supported during the school year, with a number of specialized offerings. High school students can participate in InkTANK, a teen writers' workgroup. Under the mentorship of community artists, writers, and Loft staff, they explore the written word as a tool for self-expression. "Basic Needs" provides workshops for teen parents, and "New Stories, Old Stories" encourages young immigrant or refugee students to write about their culture.

I managed to stammer out an answer to my daughter's question, falling back neither on my intro-creative-writing-undergrad answer ("telling a story that's factually true using the literary devices of fiction and/or poetry") or my extended-family-slash-cocktail-party-conversant answer ("think Truman Capote and In Cold Blood"). But I'm already anticipating the thornier questions to come ("Mom, how much can I make up and still call it nonfiction?" or "Mom, what's the difference between personal essay and memoir?"). Thank goodness I can always ship them off to the Loft.

Posted by Dislocate Literary Journal at 11:09 AM | Permalink

November 9, 2009

When even the Minnesota winter stops in it's tracks, yielding a fine week of warm, sunny weather, you know something big is happening. Michael Dennis Browne, poet and teacher extraordinaire, is retiring after 38 years at the University of Minnesota. In honor of Browne's long service at the University, dislocate is hosting a reading this Wednesday, November 11th, at 7 pm in 150 Lind Hall on the University of Minnesota East Bank. Browne will read from his poetry, alongside MFA candidates Colleen McCarthy (poetry), Josh Morsell (nonfiction), and Swati Avasthi (fiction). Books will be for sale, and refreshments, (good ones, I hear) will be served.

Michael Dennis Browne was born in England, but his fascination with American poetry brought him to the United States as a Fulbright scholar. Browne attended the University of Iowa, earning an M.A. with Distinction in English in 1967. He has taught at the University of Minnesota since 1971 and is a Morse-Alumni Distinguished Teaching Professor of English. In addition to his numerous books of poetry, Browne is author of a children's book, Give Her the River, and several librettos.

The warm weather won't last, and Browne won't be at the University of Minnesota much longer. Celebrate them both this Wednesday--7pm, 150 Lind Hall.

Posted by Dislocate Literary Journal at 11:52 AM | Permalink

If you still haven't submitted to dislocate's Contaminated Essay Contest, here's one more reason to get your submission in: the contest will be judged by award-winning essayist and poet Lia Purpura.

Lia Purpura is the author of three collections of poems, two collections of essays and one collection of translations. On Looking (essays, Sarabande Books, 2006) was a Finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award and the winner of the Towson University Prize in Literature. King Baby (poems, Alice James Books, 2008) won the Beatrice Hawley Award and was a finalist for the Foreword Magazine Book of the Year Award and the Maine Literary Award. Increase (essays, University of Georgia Press, 2000) won the Associated Writing Programs Award in Creative Nonfiction. Stone Sky Lifting (poems, Ohio State University Press, 2000) won the OSU Press/The Journal Award. The Brighter the Veil (poems, Orchises Press, 1996) won the Towson University Prize in Literature. Poems of Grzegorz Musial: Berliner Tagebuch and Taste of Ash (translations, Fairleigh Dickinson University Press) was published in 1998.

Her recent essays "Glaciology" and "The Lustres" were awarded Pushcart prizes in 2007 and 2009, and other essays were named "Notable Essays" in Best American Essays, 2004, 2005, 2007, 2008 and 2009. Lia Purpura is also the recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, a Fulbright Fellowship (translation, Warsaw, Poland), and a grant from the Maryland State Arts Council.

Her poems and essays appear in Agni Magazine, DoubleTake, Field, The Georgia Review, The Iowa Review, Orion, The New Republic, The New Yorker, The Paris Review, Parnassus: Poetry in Review, Ploughshares, Southern Review, and many other magazines.

A graduate of Oberlin College and the Iowa Writers' Workshop, where she was a Teaching/Writing Fellow in Poetry, Lia Purpura is Writer-in-Residence at Loyola University in Baltimore, MD and teaches in the Rainier Writing Workshop Low-Residency MFA Program. Recent visiting appointments include The Bedell Visiting Writer at the University of Iowa's MFA Program in Nonfiction; Coal Royalty Visiting Professor at the University of Alabama's MFA Program; Reader/Lecturer at the Bennington Writing Program, and Visiting Writer at the Warren and Patricia Benson Forum on Creativity at Eastman Conservatory. She lives in Baltimore, MD with her husband, conductor Jed Gaylin, and their son, Joseph.

Posted by Dislocate Literary Journal at 9:14 AM | Permalink