#quiet fire

Reluctant Reader Wednesday: Quiet Fire: Emily Dickinson’s Life and Poetry by Carol Dommermuth-Costa and Anna Landsverk 

Emily Dickinson spent much of her life writing and sharing poetry, but very little time trying to get her work published. Most of her fame was achieved after her death, when her sister discovered almost 1,800 of Emily’s poems in a locked chest. Several people worked separately and together to share Emily’s poetry with the world, and the poetry collections that resulted were very popular. But a lot of what we think we know about Emily Dickinson today was influenced or even invented by editors, publishers, friends, and family members. This biography explores Dickinson’s poetry, her life, and the people and events that helped to shape her life and her writing.

Quiet Fire...

Roberta Flack, “Go Up Moses” (1971) 

“Go up, Moses! You been down too long! Am I being clear, y’all? Am I being clear?”

Too often dismissed as smooth and middle of the road, the opening track for Roberta Cleopatra Flack’s third album, Quiet Fire, presents her casting a powerful incantation over one of the steamiest funk arrangements (HER arrangement, no less: full credit for her artistry here) that you’ll ever come across. It was a great start to a great 1971 for Roberta, as the album peaked at #18 (25 places higher than her second album). 

Later in the year, she’d record an album’s worth of duets with Donny Hathaway, with the advance single from that album, “You’ve Got A Friend” reaching #29 on the Hot 100 chart, and #8 on the R&B chart, setting the stage for her true breakout the following year (”Where Is The Love”, “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”, and more).

Quiet Fire — Entry 27: Every evening, just before the last of the daylight surrendered to the trees, he carried the old brass lantern into the backyard. The ritual had survived twenty-three winters, twenty-three springs, and more well-meaning conversations than he cared to remember. Neighbors watched from kitchen windows while stirring soup or clearing dinner plates. Children who had once…

Quiet Fire — Entry 26: Elias had walked home from Harlow’s Market every Thursday for nearly twelve years, though calling it a walk made it sound more intentional than it was. It was closer to a ritual, one of those small agreements a man makes with himself after life has taken enough liberties. He left his apartment at four-thirty, crossed Mercer Avenue before the buses thickened, stopped at the…

Quiet Fire — Entry 25: Martha distrusted the camera the moment she lifted it from its velvet-lined box. Age had darkened the brass into the color of old honey, and the leather bellows released a slow breath scented with cedar, dust, and the faint metallic tang that clings to objects handled by generations of careful hands. It carried more weight than seemed reasonable, as though it remembered…