When we talk about hybrid literary genres, what do we mean? Unprecedented in both its scope and approach, Family Resemblance is the first anthology to explore the answer to that question in depth, providing craft essays and examples of hybrid forms by 43 distinguished authors. In this study of eight hybrid genres--including lyric essay, epistolary, poetic memoir, prose poetry, performative, short-form nonfiction, flash fiction, and pictures made of words--the family tree of hybridity takes delightful shape, showcasing how cross-genre works blend features from multiple literary parents to create new entities, forms that feel more urgent than ever in today's increasingly heterogeneous landscape. Introductions and an afterword discuss the importance and current popularity of hybridity in literature and culture and offer methods for teaching hybrid works. Intended for both scholarly and general readers, this seminal collection sparkles with inventiveness and creative zeal--an essential guidebook to a developing field.
FEATURING ESSAYS AND HYBRID WORK FROM: Kazim Ali, Susanne Paola Antonetta, Andrea Baker, Jennifer Bartlett, Mira Bartók, Jenny Boully, Julie Carr, Katie Cortese, Nick Flynn, Sarah Gorham, Arielle Greenberg, Carol Guess, Terrance Hayes, Robin Hemley, Takashi Hiraide, Tung-Hui Hu, Mark Jarman, A. Van Jordan, Etgar Keret, Joy Ladin, Miriam Libicki, Bret Lott, Stan Mack, Sabrina Orah Mark, Brenda Miller, Ander Monson, Maggie Nelson, Amy Newman, Gregory Orr, Julio Ortega, Jena Osman, Kathleen Ossip, Pamela Painter, Craig Santos Perez, Khadijah Queen, David Shields, Mary Szybist, Sarah Vap, Patricia Vigderman, Julie Marie Wade, Diane Wakoski, Joe Wenderoth, Rachel Zucker
On writing CITY OF SKYPAPERS: CITY OF SKYPAPERS was an effort of daily writing in Tel Aviv for a span of about three years during which time I tried to inhabit and reconcile Jewish sacred time (holidays, Shabbat, daily prayer rituals) with private, social, and civil secular time-two wars with their worries and missiles, explosions, and a sense of solidarity, as well, with beloved friends in Gaza or West Bank, a custody lawsuit, daily small-scale agriculture, running along the Yarkon river, riding public transportation in Tel Aviv and Ramat-Gan, teaching, friendship, love and its disappointments, mothering. It attempts an openness to the daily world, and an attention to these details, charged by an interpenetration of the sacred and the secular, aspirations and reality. I wanted to mimic in writing the way the mind works, the reality its imagination builds, the relationships it creates, among people, objects, and geography.
My technique involved a morning ritual of moving through time in space-running, bussing, urban farming, preparation for Shabbat or holiday or for work, all the while attending to the details of the ritual. I would write down observations, and then, to separate out what was essential, I would place the writing in a poetic form-ottava rima, sonnet, heroic couplet, or syllabic, usually. Sometimes the forms fit, and highlighted the essential. Sometimes the forms did not, and I let them fall, but the exercise was useful in identifying the heart of each piece. Sometimes the routines were disrupted by war, internal travel, bureaucracy gone awry, and other trauma. These provided intense opportunities of observance and attention to the human condition in the worlds we create, and the worlds that were made before we arrived on the scene.