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Grisham
Endowment Brings |
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Whether plumbing “the depths of human
illogic” or assaying the ways of a garden slug, the poetry of Claude
Wilkinson has stirred interest among literary circles and, now, among
University of Mississippi students, as well.
An
acclaimed poet and literary critic, Wilkinson began teaching at Ole Miss
this fall as part of the Southern Writer in Residence Program.
He is the first writer primarily of poetry to be awarded the
post, which was established in 1993 with funds from best-selling
author John Grisham and his wife, Renée.
A 1981
graduate of Ole Miss and resident of Nesbit, Mississippi, Wilkinson
returns to the Oxford campus to teach creative writing and to work with
undergraduate and graduate students in writing. He already has begun
conducting public readings and participating in conferences and seminars
as part of his year‑long residency.
Also an
accomplished visual artist, Wilkinson is adept at creating mental
images, using words and language to paint pictures and stimulate the
soul, said Dan Williams, professor of English and a member of the
Southern Writer in Residence selection committee.
“As a
poet and a painter, Claude Wilkinson brings a remarkably extensive range
of talents to share with Ole Miss students,” Williams said. “He is
particularly gifted and appropriate for the post not only because he is
a Mississippi native and a graduate of Ole Miss, but also because he is
a highly creative artist and an outstanding addition to our campus.”
“I
really like his class,” said Max B. Hipp, a graduate student in
English who is from Oxford. “He loves poetry and he’s helping me to
love it, too.”
Wilkinson
said he feels fortunate to be selected to the post. “I remember my
freshman composition instructor telling our class that she was William
Faulkner’s niece, which meant nothing to me at the time,” he said.
“Now, I'm living only a couple hundred yards from his home, Rowan Oak.
And I recently discovered that John Grisham and I were at the same high
school during the early ’70s. Such coincidence makes my appointment
serendipitous.”
The
Southern Writer in Residence Program brings notable writers to campus to
be a resource to students and to teach in the English department. The
Renée and John Grisham Fund pays the salary and living expenses for the
writer, who is chosen for the position by a four-member committee.
Since
its inception, the program has hosted such award-winning writers
as Mary Hood, author of the short story collection How Far She Went
and the novel Familiar Heat; and Mark Richard, author of the
novel Fishboy ; as well as T. R. Pearson, Tim Gautreaux, Darcey
Steinke, and Randall Kenan.
Wilkinson
is working on a new collection of poems and several critical essays.
“Usually my poems explore, or attempt to make more obvious, the fusion
between a natural and spiritual realm, between loss and memory, between
suffering and consequent change,” he said.
Wilkinson’s
collection, Reading the Earth, won the Naomi Long Madgett Poetry
Award. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Atlanta Review,
the Southern Review, and numerous other journals. In
1999, he was awarded a Walter E. Dakin Fellowship in Poetry from the
Sewanee Writers’ Conference. He also has published criticism on the
work of Chinua Achebe, Italo Calvino, and John Cheever.
No
stranger to teaching, Wilkinson has taught in the English departments at
several colleges and universities. He holds a bachelor’s degree from Ole
Miss and a master’s from the University of Memphis.
His drawings and paintings have been exhibited in many
invitational, juried, and solo shows, and are in the permanent collections
of CottonlandiaMuseum, Deposit Guaranty National Bank, and other private
collections nationwide. Adrian
Aumen Excerpt
from “Way of Life,” by Claude Wilkinson Fallen
power lines and glacial debris would again make the
news’ rundown of disasters,
perhaps leave those
elsewhere, under the warm sunbow of their morning, wondering
how we could cope. What we share in this
world are the beautiful
depths of human illogic that would have us
trade places with a suffering
lover, cause us to momentarily forget that going on is
seldom, if ever, the result of
happiness returning, anything
more than hope. We rise for what we
have left: swatches of buntings
perched and preening, stars
of embers that need to be
stirred, gardens of brilliant
drooping, some brave soul’s
template of tracks. |
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