One took the colony by the heels, slapping its flank until it issued a broad cry of rage. Tall and forbidding, she waxed both sharp and sweet, flying in the angry face of magistrates, chafing the tender hearts of the unregenerate gently with her tireless voice. She coaxed as women labored in their cramped beds of pain.
The other fashioned quills and parsed her poems in clean white sheets. Still, her clumsy child shamed her, walking on stumbling feet, as real a “monstrous birth” as the first Anne’s tissue of stubborn clots. What was it she tried to say, poet in a wife’s starched linen, submitting to her tasks and thanking God without conviction for each bitter loss? Sarah, Hagar in exile, she too never went back; the stormy Atlantic roiled, keeping her margins, her heart rising within her and rising, rising again.
Claude Lelouch’s 1966 film A Man and a Woman remains the North Star of romantic French movies. It also remains his obit-leader, since Lelouch has done nothing in the past 42 years to approximate that runaway success.
Emma Sulkowicz, a Columbia University student, is carrying her mattress everywhere she goes as part of her senior visual arts thesis. Two years ago she was attacked and raped in her dorm room. Sulkowicz sees this performance art project as a way to show the burden sexual assault survivors carry everyday. Last year three women reported assaults by the same person; all three cases were dismissed by the university (Time, September 2).