Nebraska stifled many a soul but Mari Sandoz "willed herself" to become its bard.

Heeding a poet's call, Andrew Carroll put poetry books in motel rooms, waiting rooms, hospitals, buses, airplanes. . .

America's good gray poet went dark for a while. But Walt Whitman surfaced with a new hope for America.

People on the Plains led quiet, anonymous lives. Until Spoon River.

Weaving wonder out of darkness, Mary Oliver became America’s favorite poet.

America was going modern — skyscrapers, biplanes, Model T’s. Why not poetry? Harriet Monroe asked.

Think April is “the cruelest month?” E.E. Cummings will cure your despair.

wholly to be a fool

 while Spring is in the world

For a full year, poet Ross Gay focused on things that delight him. The result: The Book of Delights. You need this now.

Drafted into the Cold War, Cavendish gave Alexander Solzhenitsyn what he’d never had — a home.

Her books forgotten, her style only a memory, Zora Neale Hurston died a pauper’s death. And then. . .

When Dust Bowl refugees came to California, a newspaper sent a novelist to tell the story.

Out of the academy and into the agora, Americans are thinking and questioning in ways that would make Socrates smile.

The Attic reads and reviews this curious collection of curious (and insightful) maps.

On the verge of Infinite Jest, DFW took a cruise. His witty, acerbic, heartfelt account bore all the brilliance of his novels.

Long before AI and Chat GPT, Wendell Berry asked a question we should all ponder.