Sara Ryan est une poète dont les intérêts académiques portent sur la culture matérielle et la critique, les formes poétiques, l'écriture hybride et l'essai lyrique. Son œuvre navigue habilement dans l'interaction entre l'image et le texte, offrant aux lecteurs une perspective unique. À travers ses vers méticuleusement élaborés, Ryan explore les complexités de l'expérience humaine avec une voix distinctive qui résonne dans la poésie contemporaine.
After moving to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, poet Sara Ryan found herself immersed in the isolated spaces of the North: the cold places that never thawed, the bleak expanses of snow. These poems have teeth, bones, and blood—they clack and bruise and make loud sounds. They interrogate self-preservation, familial history, extinction, taxidermy, and animal and female bodies. In between these lines, in warm places where blood collects, animals stay hidden and hunted, a girl looks loneliness dead in the eye, and wolves come out of the woods to run across the frozen water of Lake Superior.
Nicola Lancaster is spending her summer at the Siegel Institute - a hothouse of smart, articulate, intense teenagers living like college students for eight weeks. Nic's had theatre friends and orchestra friends, but never just friend friends. And she's certainly never had a relationship.But on the very first day, she falls in with Katrina the Manic Computer Chick, Isaac the Nice-Guy-Despite-Himself, Kevin the Inarticulate Composer... and Battle.Battle Hall Davies is a beautiful blond dancer from North Carolina. She's everything Nic isn't. Soon the two are friends - and then, startlingly, more than friends. What do you do when you think you're attracted to guys, and then you meet a girl who steals your heart?
After moving to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, poet Sara Ryan found herself immersed in the isolated spaces of the North: the cold places that never thawed, the animals that stayed hidden and hunted. As she struggled with loneliness, cruelty, and the bleak romantic expanses of the UP, she saw her own body reflected in the bodies of animals. These poems have teeth and bones and blood—they interrogate self-preservation, familial history, extinction, taxidermy, and a fascination with animal and female bodies. Grief, death, loss, recovery, and rebirth dwell in the soft spaces of this book. The poems are a skeleton, strong and unflinching. They clack and bruise and make loud sounds. But in between the lines, in the warm places where the blood hides, that is where the animals dwell, where the wolves come out of the woods and run across the frozen surface of Lake Superior. Ryan writes about the animal body because it is the body she can control. She navigates the deaths of animals, the knives and guns that kill them, the preservation of their skins; she sees her own body in the animal—in that wolf, that horse, that crow. She sees her body in the animal that is preyed upon. The animal presence in this book leads to a discourse with the female body that is urgent and necessary. This collection of poems is about terrible and beautiful things; pain and what lies beyond it.
Find some pockets of brilliance for your practice! Insights and inspiration
from families of learning disabled people, who share their lives, challenges
and wishes. Discover what sorts of help will really help the people you
support.
A personal account from the mother of Connor Sparrowhawk, a teenager with
autism and epilepsy, who died due to neglect while in a specialist NHS unit.
After Connor's death, Dr Sara Ryan started the #JusticeforLB campaign, which
uncovered a wider failure by the NHS to appropriately care for people with
learning difficulties.
