Z e t e o
Reading, Looking, Listening, . . . Questioning
Wendy Artin, Tamara on her Side with Foot in Hand, 2003, watercolor on Fabiano Ingres paper, 12 x 9, © 2003-2014

At sea in these thunder-clouded days we write out of habit and wishing that we might find some magical, Archimedean fulcrum that would right the ship or allow us to gather the pieces and start building anew. At present we cannot be sure how, or if, these pieces fit together.   In any critic’s work, we […]

ZiLL
Categories: William Eaton, ZiLL | 2 Comments
Berlinde De Bruyckere, No Life Lost II, Installation view, Hauser & Wirth, 2016, photo by Mirjam Devriendt

Or, Dying, “What does it feel like?”   First approach Torvald Helmer: Oh, you think and talk like a heedless child. Nora, his wife: Maybe. But you neither think nor talk like the man I could bind myself to. As soon as your fear was over—and it was not fear for what threatened me, but […]

ZiLL
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A Week of Reading from . . . William Eaton, Zeteo Executive Editor [One in an ongoing series of posts. For the full series see Zeteo is Reading. This one was first posted 15-21 September 2013.] 15 September 2013: K.J. Dover, Greek Homosexuality As this is a season for reading manuscripts that are being submitted for Zeteo’s […]

ZiR

Recent Comments

Asano_Takeji-No_Series-Snow_at_Iwashimizu_Hachiman_Shrine_Kyoto

A Week of Reading from . . . William Eaton, Zeteo Executive Editor [One in an ongoing series of posts. For the full series see Zeteo is Reading. This one was first posted 15-21 September 2013.] 15 September 2013: K.J. Dover, Greek Homosexuality As this is a season for reading manuscripts that are being submitted for Zeteo’s […]

ZiR

July 16, 2018

Thanks a lot, Steve. And, continuing the segue-ing, here's an old (and traditional) Gary Snyder poem I just came across yesterday: Seaman’s Ditty I’m wondering where you are now Married, or mad, or free: Wherever you are you’re likely glad, But memory troubles me. We could’ve had us children, We could’ve had a home— But you thought not, and I thought not, And these nine years we roam. Today I worked in the deep dark tanks, And climbed out to watch the sea: Gulls and salty waves pass by, And mountains of Araby. I’ve travelled the lonely oceans And wandered the...

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Asano_Takeji-No_Series-Snow_at_Iwashimizu_Hachiman_Shrine_Kyoto

A Week of Reading from . . . William Eaton, Zeteo Executive Editor [One in an ongoing series of posts. For the full series see Zeteo is Reading. This one was first posted 15-21 September 2013.] 15 September 2013: K.J. Dover, Greek Homosexuality As this is a season for reading manuscripts that are being submitted for Zeteo’s […]

ZiR

July 16, 2018

A very nice piece, William. I am reminded of a Sung Dynasty poem that D.T. Suzuki quotes in one of his books. I'm not sure of its relevance here, but it seems to resonate somehow. Misty rain on Mount Lu, And waves surging at Che Kiang. When you have not been there, Many a regret you have; But once there and homeward you wend, How matter-of-fact things look! Misty rain on Mount Lu And waves surging at Che Kiang.

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Frank Kermode, August 2000, photo by Charlie MacDonald

A Week of Reading from . . . William Eaton, Zeteo Executive Editor [One in an ongoing series of posts. For the full series see Zeteo is Reading. This one was first posted 15-21 September 2013.] 15 September 2013: K.J. Dover, Greek Homosexuality As this is a season for reading manuscripts that are being submitted for Zeteo’s […]

Essay

June 14, 2018

The time that takes place in stories compared to the time that we actually live is radically abbreviated. It briskly sweeps aside all the commonplace moments that make up the long stretch of toilsome time and focuses instead on the interesting and compelling. With a mere section break or a simple transitional phrase, days, months, and whole years are disposed of as if they had no significance at all. “Then time passed slowly until the day arrived when….” A lot of important living is hidden in such a phrase. From the moment-to-moment flow of time, the storyteller lifts out only those narr...

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