Exile Volume 7 | Number 2 Article 1 1961 Exile Vol. VII No. 2 Clark Blaise Denison University Christine Cooper Denison University Janet Tallman Denison University Nancy Schieber Denison University Linda Chase Denison University See next page for additional authors Follow this and additional works at: http://digitalcommons.denison.edu/exile Part of the Creative Writing Commons Recommended Citation Blaise, Clark; Cooper, Christine; Tallman, Janet; Schieber, Nancy; Chase, Linda; and Weintraub, Neil (1961) "Exile Vol. VII No. 2," Exile: Vol. 7 : No. 2 , Article 1. Available at: http://digitalcommons.denison.edu/exile/vol7/iss2/1 This Article is brought to you for free and open access by Denison Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Exile by an authorized editor of Denison Digital Commons. Exile Vol. VII No. 2 Authors Clark Blaise, Christine Cooper, Janet Tallman, Nancy Schieber, Linda Chase, and Neil Weintraub This article is available in Exile: http://digitalcommons.denison.edu/exile/vol7/iss2/1 UiNi VARSITY LIBRARY GRANVILLE, OHIO SPRING 1961 Tke EXILE Spring 1961 Vol. 1 No. 2 Deni&on University Granville, Ohio Take thought: I have weathered the storm I have beaten out my exile. —Ezra Pound Contributors Contents Two senior English majors have contributed narratives to this EDITORIAL issue of Exile. CLARK BLAISE, author of the prize-winning story "The Littlest Orphan," plans to continue his fiction writing next year Catcher (woodcut) Wilford Baumes 6 as a California resident. NEIL J. WEINTRAUB publishes for the first time in Exile and intends to work intensively on short story writing prize Story next year at the State University of Iowa. This issue's third narrative The Littlest Orphan Clark Blaise 7 "The Monkey," is the first printed work of Nancy Schieber, junior English major. CHRISTINE COOPER, freshman poet, and JANET Dead Tree (poem) Christine Cooper 17 TALLMAN, sophomore Exile editor, also publish here for the first Janet Tallman 18 time. Three poems by LINDA CHASE, the new President of Franco- TVVO Poems Calliopean society, complete the writing in this issue. The etching Untitled (pen and ink drawing) Virginia Piersol 20 and pen and ink draking are the contributions of VIRGINIA PIER- SOL, junior art major specializing in graphics. WILFORD BAUMES, The Monkey (story) Nancy Schieber 21 who designed the woodcut appearing in Exile, recently finished a senior project in sculpture. To Kandinsky (poem) Linda Chase 24 Athena (line etching) Virginia Piersol 25 Visions of Peanut Chocolates (poem) Linda Chase 26 STAFF The Second Day of Summer (story) Neil J. Weintraub 27 EDITORS: Clark Blaise Great Exploitations (poem) Linda Chase 40 Lee Cullen James Funaro ADVISOR: Dominick P. Console Janet Tallman COPY EDITOR: Kathleen McComb ART EDITOR: Lucinda Piersol BUSINESS MANAGER: Judith Downing ASSISTANTS: Christine Cooper, Nancy Drake, Gail Meyer, Pamela Porterfield, Ellen Thompson Any student of Denison may submit manuscripts of poems, short stories and essays to the editors or deposit them in Cover Design by Jane Erb the EXILE box in Doane Administration Building. <9ft Editorial has never specifically stated upon what basis it accepts or rejects manuscripts. Writing is tough, and so are writers. They may be sensitive It doesn't intend to now. The reason, obviously, is that it can't. nervous, easily depressed, but they're tough. They keep writing, n0 <^id the reasons for this are many, the chief one being that Exile is, matter what until everything has been said. Then they watch for ind always has been, a dynamic publication. If there has been one awhile and discover they can start all over again. But they weren't consistent credo, it has been this: encourage and print the finest always that way; there was a time when their words were gems, not \vriting Denison authors can produce. But we have no set critical tools, when their work was awesome, not tedious, and when they formulae and we try to offer constructive criticisms on all works solicited encouragement and criticism was unbearable. At that stage submitted. they were probably in college, and the only outlet for their effusions was the college literary magazine. Exile has interpreted its role on campus to be one of twin re- sponsibility; to the writers and to the readers. To the writer, Exile Now a word about the magazine. Though generally staffed by recognizes the importance of encouragement, but also recognizes the a group of young writers, or students seriously interested in writing, need to exercise a realistic editorial responsibility. To the readers, the magazine has a toughness, and in its way, an honesty, that the Exile has maintained a policy of publishing the finest finished work individual writer has yet to achieve. In what may seem for the young of their fellow students. We feel that only when a writer is published writer a chaotic world of words and fleeting exciting ideas without at his best and read at his best has the magazine lived up td its forms or absolutes, the magazine stands for order. It is a finished pro- purpose. duct even if the stories themselves are just beginnings and the poems are more clever than thoughtful. It is the place where musings end, Exile attempts many things; perhaps a valid criticism is that it where subjectivity ends, where all vague hopes and fears end. Only tries too much. Maybe it takes itself too seriously in trying to be a in print, in the hands of an intelligent reading public, do the answers final step in "amateur" writing, and still publish as great a selection begin to flow. And the organ of transmission between the student of student writing as possible. Its size and biannual publication im- writer and the student reader is the student magazine with its pose certain limitations. We operate with deadlines, and the editors student editors. In the publishing world, its position is unique. are certainly not infallible. Selections and judgments are always rel- There is no anonymity, no mimeographed rejection slips, no passing ative to material submitted, and, of course, that varies immensely the buck. It is the most vulnerable of all publications, for its very from semester to semester. These are the restrictions under which concreteness is an anathema to the universal college mentality. Stu- Exile operates; I have already sketched the responsibilities it tries dents shudder at the thought of "universals," and "absolutes," and to assume. For the most part it is able to operate effectively within generally regard judgments to be little more than prejudices. Al- these bounds. though it is vulnerable to criticism, the magazine would not choose The literary tastes of the editors do not vary far afield, however, to be different, for it is the focus of necessary controversy. Defended from the tastes of most other interested, and thoughtful students. or attached, the magazine is a solid, objective reality, honest and un- Though vocabulary may differ, all readers are looking essentially for equivocable. enjoyment or enlightenment, and if the writing succeeds in one or All this brings us to Exile. In its seven years of publication, another of these, we accept it for publication.—C.B. something of a tradition has grown up with it. And as traditions often do a disservice to any publication, being by nature opinions without written testimony, the time has come for a little clarifying. There have been twenty-five or so editors since 1955, and not one has printed what might be termed a definitive Editorial Credo. Exile On the second day, a sail drew near, near- er, and picked me up at last. It was the, devious-cruising Rachel, that in her retrac- ing search after her missing children, only found another orphan. —MOBY DICK The Littlest Orphan CLARK BLAISE Seller's Landing now. "Foley, you wake up. See, I poled clear up to ol' man Sellerses." "That's good, Escal," the littler one answered, then closed his eyes and laid his head upon his slim bluish arm. "I done seen it enough anyhow," he said. "Foley, you wake up good now. I ain't been talking on no ac- count. Stay awake. You promised that afore I'd take you the gar hunt." He lifted the long cypress pole from the muck and flicked it at his brother. "Quit it, Esc'," Foley whined, but still kept his eyes closed. "I been awake the whole time." "Then act awake. I knowed I shun't of brung you at all. Still a baby, like Ma says." "That ain't the truth," Foley retorted, and sat upright so quickly he swayed the frogboat, nearly spilling his older brother into the creek. "Now see what you near done? That right there shows you don't know how to act in a boat. Just set down and shut up." 'Yall called me a baby," Foley defended. "Ain't no call fer that." "I said shut up. I don't know which is worst, you sleepin,' doin' nothin', or you awake yappin' like a wormy hound." "I wisht y'all'd fall in, plumb in a gator nest," Foley said. And still sitting upright added, "An' anyways, if I'm a baby, it don't make you much more'n one yerself." Content he had the last word, he nestled his head in his folded arm again and closed his eyes. Escal wasn't ready to drop the argument. "You wisht I'd fall in? he repeated. "Then what? You'd set right c'here cryin' 'til you got the boat snagged in sawgrass. You try to git out but you couldn't. You'd just set and starve 'til you'd try swimmin' for it, then EXILE some gator or gar'd come along, and snap you like you was nothin' washed gray smudges onto his cheeks.