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A Reading by Noy Holland
Monday, February 29, 2016
2:30 pm – 3:45 pm
Campus Center, Weis Cinema
 [A Reading by Noy Holland] The National Book Award nominee and author of BirdSpectacle of the BodyWhat Begins with Bird, and Swim for the Little One First reads from her work at 2:30 p.m. in Weis Cinema, Bertelsmann Campus Center. Introduced by Bradford Morrow and followed by a Q&A, the reading is free and open to the public; no tickets or reservations required.

"Ms. Holland habitually challenges the usual limits of language, but the effects of her exuberance are never precious, and often turn suddenly into beauty; her characters portray themselves in a discourse that is startling but genuine, the secret syntax of real lives." —New York Times Book Review

"Noy Holland animates what we struggle to keep unknown, the suppressed, the barely to be borne, in a prismatic, restless language that illuminates a heaven and hell of visions and want." —Joy Williams

"Strange, glittering, incantatory language marks Holland's provocative, nearly hypnotic stories." —Publishers Weekly

"The syncopated rhythms of Noy Holland’s rapturous prose jolt the heart and spark the senses." —Melanie Rae Thon

 

Contact: Micaela Morrissette, mmorriss@bard.edu, 845-758-7054

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In Print

Vol. 72
Nocturnals
Spring 2019
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

July 16, 2019
She wanders aimlessly through age, age
being a nutrient that washes from the cliff face
into the soil.

Absence a rhythm in the daily round, rows
carved into furrows in the ground or the folds
of the robe, not planted with seed.
July 9, 2019
He has already, over the course of months, designed his own sanctuary, his own adventure. It has yet to be built, but it will be an ordinary house, except for the cellar, where a secret tunnel leads far away into deep woods, to his real home, enormous and impregnable and peopled by machines to take care of all his needs.
by Maureen Howard
Introduction by Joanna Scott
July 2, 2019
We sipped a fumé blanc, much too good for us. Elsa, quite content with a weak strain of iced tea, happy to be here at all. We had not known from lively e-mails and upbeat telephone chats that her persistent cough had taken a turn to the prospect of dying.
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Monday, October 28, 2019
2:30 pm – 3:30 pm