POETRY FROM PARADISE VALLEY

POETRY FROM PARADISE VALLEY
Click Image to Visit the Pecan Grove Press Web Page for Poetry from Paradise Valley

POETRY FROM PARADISE VALLEY web page

Poetry From Paradise Valley

Pecan Grove Press has released an anthology of poems, a sampling of works published in Valparaiso Poetry Review during its first decade, from the original 1999-2000 volume to the 2009-2010 volume.


Poetry from Paradise Valley includes a stellar roster of 50 poets. Among the contributors are a former Poet Laureate of the United States, a winner of the Griffin International Prize, two Pulitzer Prize winners, two National Book Award winners, two National Book Critics Circle winners, six finalists for the National Book Award, four finalists for the National Book Critics Circle Award, two finalists for the Pulitzer Prize, and a few dozen recipients of other honors, such as fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, etc.

Readers are encouraged to visit the Poetry from Paradise Valley page at the publisher's web site, where ordering information about the book can be found.

Best Books of Indiana 2011: Finalist. Judges' Citation: "Poetry from Paradise Valley is an excellent anthology that features world-class poetry, including the work of many artists from the Midwest, such as Jared Carter, Annie Finch, David Baker, and Allison Joseph. It’s an eclectic and always interesting collection where poems on similar themes flow into each other. It showcases the highest caliber of U. S. poetry."
—Indiana Center for the Book, Indiana State Library

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Sunset: Remembering Palmer Hall



Sunset: Remembering Palmer Hall

Yesterday morning, when I received an e-mail reporting that Palmer Hall had died a few hours earlier, I was saddened by the loss of a good and generous man. Palmer had been a wonderful friend to many, especially writers whose works he nourished and cherished during his decades as the editor of Pecan Grove Press. Though he had been in poor health for a while and he had kept everyone informed of various stages in his serious condition, displaying grace and dignity in his messages up until the end, the news of his passing was difficult to accept.

The fact that information about his death arrived by message on my computer seemed appropriate since I had first encountered Palmer in an online writers’ list more than twenty-one years ago during the early adventurous dial-up days of the Internet. We would correspond with others in the group and in personal notes, gaining admiration for one another’s works. Sometimes, in the middle of the night when online access was more available, we’d also meet with other authors at virtual cafés for continuing conversations. Indeed, Palmer and I eventually established a friendship that would grow further when we met in person at a writers’ conference in Atlanta and then at other gatherings on a number of occasions over the years.

Each time we’d gather at a conference in a different city, we arranged to visit interesting sites and we’d talk for hours—often discussing our homes, schools, students, friends, and family as much as our passion for literature or writing. In fact, our outings to different locations frequently stood among the highlights of the conferences.

When we were at a meeting in Washington DC, Palmer graciously took me for a tour of a few historic landmarks, especially the Vietnam War Memorial, which he knew I’d wanted to visit with him because I’d read his prose and poems about a tour spent in the military working as a translator in Vietnam. I’m aware Palmer did the same for other writers as well, introducing them to this world he’d experienced, had meant so much to him, and had greatly shaped his character. Years later, I was honored when Palmer requested a comment from me for the back cover of one of his books detailing some of those war stories.

In New Orleans, Palmer and I would have lunch at real local cafés, where he could introduce me to the spicy regional dishes, and we’d spend evenings at jazz clubs in the French Quarter, comparing opinions on the musicians we both appreciated, as well as the current players in different sports we followed. When we were in Portland the year my university’s basketball team had made the Sweet Sixteen in the NCAA tournament and my alma mater’s team had made the finals, we sat in a bar and watched hours of hoops together.

Over the years, Palmer published two of my collections of poetry, and he also published an anthology of poems from the first ten years of Valparaiso Poetry Review. When I initially explained my intention to compile the VPR poems, he immediately asked me to publish the anthology with Pecan Grove Press. I wanted him to co-edit it with me, but Palmer declined because he thought I should receive all the credit for the journal’s accomplishments.

Palmer had offered his encouragement and his confidence in all my books, a couple of times even before they were halfway developed. His faith in the writers whose volumes he produced for Pecan Grove Press never wavered, and I found the process delightful when collaborating with him as an editor.

Palmer solicited my suggestions for cover art, and he seemed genuinely pleased by the selections I had made. However, during our discussions surrounding the publication of East of Omaha, I confessed to him I had no idea for the book’s cover. After weeks of back and forth, we decided to just brainstorm by mentioning our favorite images. Oddly, the first scene we both chose concerned winter trees with bare branches backed by a bright or dramatic sky. I was especially surprised since Palmer was from Texas, and I didn’t think a cold weather setting would be appealing to him.

Consequently, Palmer found a photographer he knew, one who had taken nature pictures for magazines like National Geographic, and he obtained just such a photo for the cover of my book. When the volume was released, we jokingly agreed it would be our secret that the image was actually photographed in Alaska rather than anywhere near Nebraska.

Since Palmer had expressed a preference among his favorite scenery for a wintry image with a brilliant sky as backdrop for leafless trees, I thought of him when I photographed the sunset above, which I captured recently after learning from Palmer that doctors had told him his time left was limited. For me, looking at this picture immediately brings back fond memories of Palmer, as well as my gratitude for the more than two decades I was privileged to know him and to call him a friend.

5 comments:

Pat Fargnoli said...

this is a beautiful tribute for a man who had a beautiful soul.

Anonymous said...

Thank you for this, Edward. I enjoyed reading it and I loved being reminded of all the good memories I have of Palmer and the Internet writing group.

Laura Kennelly

Maureen said...

A remembrance full of the grace and beauty of friendship. A privilege to read.

Halvard Johnson said...

Lovely piece on Palmer's passing, Ed. Thank you.

Hal

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