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Ask Seller a Question. Engaging and original, the novel fuses history, myth, and tradition in a whimsical literary voice that reminds us that the complex and innocent humanity in us is too often haunted by human tragedy. Bianca Lakoseljac is the author of a collection of stories, Bridge in the Rain, ; a collection of poetry, Memoirs of a Praying Mantis, ; and is the recipient of the Matthew Ahern Memorial Award in literature.

Summer of the Dancing Bear, which chronicles the rite of passage of a fourteen year old girl befriended by a gypsy clan, set in the former Yugoslavia, is her first novel. Visit Seller's Storefront.


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Better World Books is proud to deliver not only great books, but also quality customer service. If you are not satisfied with your order, please do not hesitate to contact us. Abebooks will provide you with our contact information after you place your order. The popular series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji by Hokusai was a strong influence on Hiroshige's choice of subject, though Hiroshige's approach was more poetic and ambient than Hokusai's bolder, more formal prints.

Subtle use of color was essential in Hiroshige's prints, often printed with multiple impressions in the same area and with extensive use of bokashi color gradation , both of which were rather labor-intensive techniques. For scholars and collectors, Hiroshige's death marked the beginning of a rapid decline in the ukiyo-e genre, especially in the face of the westernization that followed the Meiji Restoration of Hiroshige's work came to have a marked influence on Western painting towards the close of the 19th century as a part of the trend in Japonism.

Western artists, such as Manet and Monet , collected and closely studied Hiroshige's compositions. His mother died in early , and his father followed later in the year, but not before handing his fire warden duties to his twelve-year-old son. Hiroshige's first wife helped finance his trips to sketch travel locations, in one instance selling some of her clothing and ornamental combs. Edo , print The Plum Garden in Kameido.

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Hiroshige lived in the barracks until the age of Gen'emon and his wife died in , when Hiroshige was 12 years old, just a few months after his father had passed the position on to him. Although his duties as a fire-fighter were light, he never shirked these responsibilities, even after he entered training in Utagawa Toyohiro 's studio. He eventually turned his firefighter position over to his brother, Tetsuzo, in , who in turn passed on the duty to Hiroshige's son in He was given the artist name of "Shigenobu". Hiroshige intended to make Shigenobu his heir in all matters, and Shigenobu adopted the name "Hiroshige" after his master's death in , and thus today is known as Hiroshige II.


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However, the marriage to Otatsu was troubled and in they separated. Otatsu was remarried to another former pupil of Hiroshige, Shigemasa, who appropriated the name of the lineage and today is known as Hiroshige III. Both Hiroshige II and Hiroshige III worked in a distinctive style based on that of Hiroshige, but neither achieved the level of success and recognition accorded to their master.

Dog stealing a workman's meal from a snow Daruma , Hirokage , c. In his declining years, Hiroshige still produced thousands of prints to meet the demand for his works, but few were as good as those of his early and middle periods. He never lived in financial comfort, even in old age. He died aged 62 during the great Edo cholera epidemic of whether the epidemic killed him is unknown and was buried in a Zen Buddhist temple in Asakusa.

Just before his death, he left a poem:. Despite his productivity and popularity, Hiroshige was not wealthy—his commissions were less than those of other in-demand artists, amounting to an income of about twice the wages of a day labourer. His will left instructions for the payment of his debts.

Write to the River — Spring 12222 prose & poetry

Hiroshige produced over 8, works. They included details of date, location, and anecdotes of his fellow travelers, and were immensely popular. Why do you never speak. What thinking? The wind under the door. What is the wind doing? Nothing again nothing. Do you see nothing? Do you remember. Is there nothing in your head? What shall we do tomorrow? The hot water at ten. Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.

To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there. You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,. Oh is there, she said. You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique. Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,. And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot—.

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Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May.

Train crossing Pamban bridge on a windy day.

Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night. The Fire Sermon. Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind. Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,.

Write to the River — Fall Prose & Poetry | Friends of the Mississippi River

Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends. Or other testimony of summer nights. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept. Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,. Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.


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The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear. On a winter evening round behind the gashouse. The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring. Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits. I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,.

Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see. At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives. Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,. The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights. Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest—. And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit. Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:. And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.

Jericho Brown

Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,. Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls. Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold. To leeward, swing on the heavy spar. Weialala leia. Wallala leialala. Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell.