Out of gray we made the pin-oak leaves
with their saw teeth and odd waxy sheen,
dry and matte to the touch, out of granite
we made the marriage house, and always
we added a flaw which we called fire
or time or the stranger.
One Could Do Worse—Than Set the Year That Was To Verse
On December 28, 2011
by Sarah Rothbard
We’re closing the books on 2011 at Zócalo,
So a year-end poem seemed apropos.
We might have gone Roger-Angell-style,
Marching the year’s guests in single file,
Rhyming Steven Brill and Brad Cloepfil, Dakin Sloss and Andrew Ross,
But what to do with Evgeny Morozov? We might be at a loss.
So we’ll simply salute the year’s passing—by no means completely—
With unmetered verse that rhymes somewhat neatly. …
The Lucky Ones: One Family and the Extraordinary Invention of Chinese America
by Mae Ngai
Hyphenated cultures seem to be a natural part of California’s landscape today, but it wasn’t always so. The Lucky Ones by Mae Ngai offers a fresh look at California history by reconstructing the lives of immigrant and second generation pioneers who lived between cultures when it was not such a common phenomenon. Ngai’s narrative brings Chinese Americans into a richer tradition of historical storytelling by humanizing an ambivalent, middle-class immigrant family, situating their lives within the more well-known histories of Chinese laborers and those who suffered from the 1882 Exclusion Act.