James Reaney (1926–2008)
Autor/a de Poetry of mid-Century 1940-1960
Sobre l'autor
Obres de James Reaney
Killdeer and other plays 4 exemplars
Sticks & stones : the Donnellys, part one 3 exemplars
Wacousta! : [a melodrama in three acts with a description of its development in workshops] (1979) 2 exemplars
The dance of death at London, Ontario 1 exemplars
The killdeer : and other plays 1 exemplars
Alphabet: A Semiannual Devoted to the Iconography of the Imagination # 5 Dec 1962 (1962) 1 exemplars
Alphabet 18/19 1 exemplars
The Donnelly Tragedy: 1880 - 1980 1 exemplars
Alphabet, #9 1 exemplars
Obres associades
Etiquetat
Coneixement comú
- Nom oficial
- Reaney, James Crerar
- Data de naixement
- 1926-09-01
- Data de defunció
- 2008-06-11
- Gènere
- male
- Nacionalitat
- Canada
- Lloc de naixement
- Stratford, Ontario, Canada
- Lloc de defunció
- London, Ontario, Canada
- Llocs de residència
- Toronto, Ontario, Canada
- Educació
- University of Toronto (1960)
- Professions
- poet
playwright
professor of English
artist
librettist - Relacions
- Thibaudeau, Colleen (wife)
- Organitzacions
- University of Manitoba
University of Western Ontario - Premis i honors
- Order of Canada (1975)
Fellow, Royal Society of Canada (1978)
Membres
Ressenyes
A brilliant piece of history that was originally sold by the Donnelly Museum in Lucan. Pieces of articles and pamphlets chronicling the Donnelly Tragedy have been assembled in order to provide a contemporary account of the events. The reading is dry, and the text is sometimes quite small. However, the booklet is well put together and a truly interesting read.
Recommended for those living in Ontario, or for those with an interest in the Donnelly family.
Recommended for those living in Ontario, or for those with an interest in the Donnelly family.
Premis
Potser també t'agrada
Autors associats
Estadístiques
- Obres
- 39
- També de
- 4
- Membres
- 225
- Popularitat
- #99,815
- Valoració
- 3.8
- Ressenyes
- 2
- ISBN
- 49
Page 22 The Ghost
The evening waddles over the fields like a turkey.
I lurk,
Where my knowledge was chopped from my power.
All knowledge waits for you at the corner here so murky.
The awkward doltish low I.Q. farmboy shambles down the steps,
The empty echoing pitcher in his hand:
I am
Ha ha! And his hair stand straight up like brambles.
my complete review… (més)