Nassau Literary Review Fall 2012

THE NASSAU LITERARY REVIEW FALL 2012 The Nassau Literary Review is published semi-annually by students of Princeton University. Reproduction of any mate- rial in this magazine, except for purposes of review or with the written permission of the editors, is strictly prohibited. Copyright © 2012, The Nassau Literary Review, ISSN 0883-2374 Editors-in-Chief Stephanie Tam ’13 Natasha Japanwala ’14 Managing Editor Lizzie Martin ’14 Assistant Prose Editors Prose Editor Margaret Fox ’13 Ben Goldman ’15 Jonathan Lin ’13 Michael Granovetter ’15 Poetry Editor Katie Horvath ’15 Assistant Poetry Editors Maia ten Brink ’13 Art Editor Mirabella Mitchell ’13 Cristina Flores ’12 Cameron Langford ’15 Submissions Manager Assistant Art Editor Misha Semenov ’15 Erin McDonough ’14 Head Copyeditor Assistant Copyeditors John Michael Colon ’15 Emma Boettcher ’14 Margaret Hua ’15 Design Editor Diana Goodman ’13 Assistant Design Editors Erin McDonough ’14 Samuel Watters ’15 Business Manager Webmaster Dipika Sen ’13 Glenn Fisher ’15 Treasurer Publicity & Events Coordinator Greer Hanshaw ’13 Elizabeth Shoenfelt ’13 Prose Staff Lolita De Palma ’14, Jared Garland ’15, Cosette Gonzales ’15, Tyler House ’15, Sravanthi Kadali ’14, Ben Koons ’15, Isabelle Laurenzi ’15, Elizabeth Lloyd ’13, Diane Manry ’14, Natalie Scholl ’13, Albertine Wang ’14 Poetry Staff Sean Paul Ashley ’13, Phway Aye ’15, Matthew Brailas ’14, TZ Horton ’15, Ana Istrate ’13, Natasha Japanwala ’14, Pallavi Mishra ’15, David Paulk ’15, Allison Somers ’15, Helen Yao ’15 To Our Readers “’Tis strange—but true; for truth is always strange; Stranger than fiction: if it could be told, How much would novels gain by the exchange! How differently the world would men behold! How oft would vice and virtue places change! The new world would be nothing to the old, If some Columbus of the moral seas Would show mankind their souls’ antipodes.” –Lord Byron, Don Juan “Stranger than fiction,” truth provokes thought, and thought provokes art. Those at the forefront of the arts have always pressed just beyond the boundaries of convention, challenging their culture—and in doing so, transforming and renewing it. And how much we gain from the exchange! This year, the Nassau Literary Review proudly celebrates 170 years of publishing art and shaping culture. The Review seeks to inspire and develop the literary community in Princeton and beyond, both through the publication of high quality prose, poetry, and art, as well as by host- ing community events and partnering with arts groups on campus. We continue to navigate the elaborate relationship between truth and fiction—trusting that the journey will take us to new and exciting places, inside different perspectives and outside of our own. Hoping that, as we continue to publish fiction, we may promote dialogue surrounding that elusive and strange creature, truth. And here, as we feature creative nonfiction for the first time in our history, the boundaries of genre, truth, and fiction, break down. The work that we’ve chosen to feature in this issue crosses those elusive boundaries in powerful ways. We are thrilled with the prose pieces we’ve chosen—works that examine unique themes and worlds. Likewise, the poems featured in this issue are wide-ranging in their experimental natures. Our centerpiece, too, showcases three pieces of creative nonfiction that are varied in their subject matter and form, each of which is excellent in its own way. That heterogeneity is where this issue shines; we are inspired by and proud of the sheer diversity of its parts and the boldness of its pieces as they break rules, challenging any labels we might place on them. FALL 2012 3 This same diversity is one that we strive to encourage in our literary community on campus through events like our launch party at Small World Coffee. Crowded with readers, writers, artists, pho- tographers, musicians, and coffee enthusiasts, this was an evening that celebrated our publication and the arts on campus. We hope that this issue reflects that same sense of celebration in a new way, and that in flipping through its pages, you will share in the vibrant creative community that brought it to life. Above all, we hope that the Nassau Literary Review will facilitate the exchange of truth and fiction, giving you—and all of us—the opportunity to see our souls and those of others a little more clearly. Yours, Stephanie Tam, Natasha Japanwala, & Lizzie Martin 4 THE NASSAU LITERARY REVIEW CONTENTS CENTERPIECE H. S. T. Day-Makers 36 DANIEL FEINBERG Natural Disasters 42 VICKY GAN The Brief Life 47 POETRY MICHAEL BRASHEAR How to Survive 7 ALEXANDER LEAF Exposed 15 After the Fall 16 PALLAVI MISHRA when the flood comes 17 CARTER GREENBAUM Your Business Trips 18 I am a Puzzle 19 MAIA TEN BRINK Concert 25 Summer on Sickleton Road 26 Moment 29 The Letter 31 MATTHEW BRAILAS 1844: after a savage beating he wakens to the ghosts 52 When My Brother Was Three a Dog Bit Out His Eye: I Follow These Memories Like Blood in Snow 53 Brother Triptych 55 The Prophet John Murray Spear in Lynn, Massachusetts 57 BEN KOONS In Chastity Repose 65 Mid-Afternoon Bowfishing 68 ANA ISTRATE excavation, Satie 74 marble bust covered at stair bottom 75 the land keeps you 77 the midnight darkness of Mr Dagley 78 FALL 2012 5 JESSICA MA Love 88 DIXON LI Portrait of the Farm as a Young Poem 89 EVAN COLES Still 91 TZ HORTON song to suburbia 94 JIAYAN YU Verbatim 95 TRANSLATIONS MISHA SEMENOV All That Had Filled My Soul by Nikolay Zablotsky 70 The Fish Market by Nikolay Zabolotsky 72 PROSE GENEVIEVE BENTZ The Stiffness of Royal Icing 10 NATASHA JAPANWALA Struggle 20 LIZZIE MARTIN Too Small Yet 60 LAUREN PRASTIEN Vacation 79 ART LUKE CHENG Young girl on couch 9 Boy, window, and lamp 30 KATHRYN ROSE Untitled 28 Untitled 97 JOCELYN CHUANG The Devil in your Vanity 24 Waking Dreams 59 Untitled 87 JOANNE CHONG thesis 5 51 CAPELLA YEE The Wedding Train 54 Antares 71 GENEVIEVE IRWIN My Mother 67 LAUREN HUI FEN LING BROWN Isolation 76 NATALIE SCHOLL In Memoriam 93 6 THE NASSAU LITERARY REVIEW Michael Brashear How to Survive Remember your underpants. Don’t forget to floss. Carry a pocketknife except for when it will make you look paranoid. Wash your eyes in the rain. Dry them in the sun. Don’t forget how warm it feels to bask in that place home. Ramble down to the swamp promptly place your head under scream the green memory away it’s only bubbles breaking. Hear the creaking of dead wood beneath your feet and the dirt are going to be made to part unfortunately. Hard rocks in the soles of old leather boots worn raw and ragged remind of hillsides your faded eyes must be sure to recognize. FALL 2012 7 Most importantly never give out your real name hide it behind cool nerve and slow talk or bury it beneath a poplar in the wet soil. And if you find yourself naked or cold, hungry for the other and elsewhere lies what you want shake the dust off your legs and start over again. 8 THE NASSAU LITERARY REVIEW Young girl on couch, DIGITAL PHOTOGRAPH Luke Cheng Genevieve Bentz The Stiffness of Royal Icing It is summer, shiver hot, at approximately two in the afternoon. My aunt and cousins are sitting around, slouched in the heat, bellies like bubbles from all the grilled meat and bread and cold salads and raspberry lemonade. The party is almost over and a fly has fallen haphazardly into my cup. I fish it out so it won’t die amidst the corner of an ice cube and a bloated berry. I wouldn’t wish that on anything, even a fly that has already marched across the fondant, leaving tiny footprints in the sugar. My aunt smiles at me, standing with a limp fly on my finger, as she walks toward a third glass of champagne. Mark, her boyfriend and soon to be my second uncle, holds his glass gingerly, quietly. His hair looks like dead grass after a rain – thin, limp, a pale and empty brown. He drags his left loafer across the carpet toward the foot of his chair. It rustles softly. So how do you like school? It is nice, my sister replied blankly, standing to his left. You are in . Sixth grade. Ahh . We read slim multicultural books about strong women and learn Roman numerals. Well, that’s . I am the tallest person in my grade. Your cousin tells me . We had a man come in and talk to us about the Tulip bubble. I spent the entire time thinking about how the back of my legs stuck and unstuck and restuck to my chair in the June heat. I know something about trade and markets . I know. We all know. Here you go, my aunt intervenes, holding a French bottle by its base. I fold over my sister’s collar. My mother looks worried because my aunt’s hand shakes when she pours. I see her watching from the doorway, I can see the twist between her 10 THE NASSAU LITERARY REVIEW eyebrows. Besides my aunt’s swaying and thinning ankles, I can barely tell. But my mother knows what multiple sclerosis looks like. One of her patients has it. She sees it every month, progressively melting away a face and a body and a firm handshake. I am not sure if I am supposed to know. I am not sure it is possible to miss. The shorter of my cousins runs through the house with a yip.

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