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The Agnes Reads Committee is proud to announce that the 2013 Agnes Reads book is The Starboard Sea by Amber Dermont, the Charles Loridans Associate Professor of English and Creative Writing at Agnes Scott College.  This summer all incoming students will read and submit reflections on this work. In October, Agnes Scott College Alumnae book clubs across the nation will read The Starboard Sea for Scottie Book Month.  Keep an eye on the Agnes Reads blog and Facebook site to track the response of Agnes Scott readers to this novel!

Published in 2012, this compelling coming-of-age novel was greeted as a major literary event by lead reviewers in the New York Times, The Washington Post, and many other national publications. It was also chosen as one of the 100 Notable Books of 2012 by the editors of the New York Times Book Review.  Writing in the New York Times, Janet Maslin called it “…a rich, quietly artful novel that is bound for deep water, with questions of beauty, power and spiritual navigation as its main concerns.” And writing in the New York Times Book Review, Eleanor Henderson compares The Starboard Sea to one of the classics of American fiction, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby: “Jason is a fiercely likable first-person narrator and romantic hero: earnest, conflicted, one broken nose away from handsome. Think of an 18-year-old Nick Carraway, observing the terrible things teenagers do for one another.” As John Wilwol has written in the Washington Post, the novel is unflinching in its treatment of race. Through the character of Chester Baldwin, a black student who chose Bellingham Prep School because of its top-ranked tennis team, Dermont shows that money can’t buy pedigree.

In addition to showcasing a novel by one of the college’s own professors, the Agnes Reads Committee believes the novel explores issues confronting every young person making the transition from adolescence to young adulthood and looking ahead to college.  It raises questions about personal integrity, sexual identity, race and moral responsibility in ways that speak directly to the Agnes Scott mission, which calls on young women to “engage the social and intellectual challenges of their times.”  For a community that believes in the importance of living honorably, this book is a reminder of the dangers of straying from this vision—and the moral consequences of doing so.

Professor Dermont is also the author of the recently released short story collection Damage Control. She is the recipient of a Literature Fellowship from the National Endowment of the Arts as well as fellowships from the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference and the Sewanee Writers’ Conference. Dermont’s work has appeared in the anthologies Best New American Voices, The Best American Nonrequired Reading, as well as numerous journals including Tin House, American Short Fiction, and Crazyhorse. She has a Bachelor of Arts degree from Vassar College, a Master of Fine Arts from the University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and a Ph.D. in English and Creative Writing from the University of Houston.

In an interview with blogger AV Johnson, Professor Dermont calls Agnes Scott  “an absolute gem of a school.” As a creative writing professor, she encourages her students to “develop their own intuition, their own inner critic and voice.” Agnes Reads invites the campus community to discover the compelling characters, issues, and themes in The Starboard Sea and to reflect on its relevance to the social and intellectual challenges of our times.

Despite working in a library surrounded by information sources, I find I learn the most about the world through listening to NPR during my commute to work and watching well researched news shows like 60 Minutes.  Audio and visual mediums are great forms of communication and offer the opportunity to highlight a diverse range of perspectives using the voices of others.

I was thrilled to see Houng Ly and Nana Nimako choose to produce a news cast and interview-based documentary for their Agnes Reads reflection on The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks.

Harbinger Times: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Houng Ly ’16

In this professional looking newscast, Houng Ly interviews three students about their perspectives on privacy, patient rights, and other issues that were prevalent in The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks.

 http://youtu.be/lpztbIDYkDc

The Impact of the HPV Vaccine by Nana Nimako ’16

Nana Nimako reached out to health workers, parents and students to learn about their experience with the HPV vaccine and how they felt about the controversy that arose with the health professionals began encouraging pre-teens to  receive the vaccine. 

http://youtu.be/dZVPfOwtHwM

they over there, us over here, a country mile in between

we walked the two or so miles off our property
to the stop. the rhythm of our steps was
off and unsettling; my steady one-two beat and his cane-step-drag combo
made music no one would want to dance to.
the bus pulled off and left us in a cough of exhaust
so we took that moment to rest. the next one came after 15 minutes.
i helped him up the stairs and paid our fares.
he grimaced and leaned-fell into his seat,
threw his head to the left and kept it there to stare blankly out the windshield.
i sat down on his right and just kept my head down
prayed the driver wouldn’t make a lot of stops and make us move.

i sat in the waiting room. the newspaper next to me had a headline
about some expensive new polio “vaccine”. i didn’t want to read anymore.
the photo under the headline had
a little smiling white face and black eyes that looked right at me and through me.
i heard a creak. he had limped out and was looking at the page over my shoulder.
his “new” brace shrieked every time he shifted his weight.
those black eyes, they looked right at us no matter how i moved the page
like it could see us like how you look out the window at the edge of your vision,
unfocused and far away for miles.
a nurse handed me our bill. i read it over with those black eyes and looked at him.
he shifted and moved to pull the brace off. i shook my head.

i knew we’d never have no part of that vaccine.
health is a white man’s thing.
money is a white man’s thing.

Fractured Utopia

can’t fill that prescription
regret to inform
just can’t authorize that treatment
condolences on your loss
the bill is overdue

there must have been some oversight
but thickly lined pockets are bursting at their seams
never meant to
but it wouldn’t be fair to give handouts
every system has its flaws

and cracks
or chasms
unintentional
or purposeful
regrettable

all the right people are dying from it
equal opportunity for access
if birth has blessed you and struggle skipped you
no bottom feeders
you might be able to afford the ultimate luxury

a healthy life

When I decided that I wanted to write a poem as my response to The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks I wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it.  I couldn’t think of how to begin, how to say what I wanted to say.  Then suddenly it hit me: Fame. 

The lyrics to the famous (or infamous) song suddenly entered my head, unbidden, and struck me as being eerily appropriate: Remember my name/I’m gonna live forever. I’m gonna learn how to fly/I feel it comin’ together. People will see me and cry/I’m gonna make it to heaven. Light up the sky like a flame/I’m gonna live forever. Baby, Remember my name.  And so it began.

I knew I wanted to incorporate the lyrics into my poem, but I wasn’t sure how.  I toyed with various methods: beginning of stanzas, end of stanzas, spontaneously thrown into the mix, etc. and finally decided on having a line at the end of each stanza.  I think it worked out pretty well, I hope you feel the same.  Without further ado, I present Fame.

————————————

Fame

When genes mean more than ever before
And lives are lost while the cure’s next door
And no help is given to those in need
Baby, look at me, and tell me what you see.

When the saving grace can’t help those she loves
And help doesn’t come from up above
And death’s cold had is an unseen threat
You ain’t seen the best of me yet.

Her cells live forever in a frozen case
Used for research in the cancer race
Constantly trialed and put to the test
Give me time I’ll make you forget the rest.

Though with her death cures have been found
Her cells have been used all around
Used to combat the dreaded disease
I got more in me, and you can set it free.

The most famous woman in all the world
Every lab has her genetic swirls
Yet most don’t know her name, don’t give a damn
I can catch the moon in my hand. Don’t you know who I am?

She unwittingly helped develop cures
For what she herself could not endure
The world would never be the same
Remember my name

She hoped in vain that she would be healed
But alas for her, no cure was revealed
Stacked end to end her cells can touch the sky
I’m gonna live forever. I’m gonna learn how to fly.

She sought out help in the only place
Yet was treated poorly because of her race
She left the world with a whimper and a sigh
I feel it comin’ together. People will see me and cry

Is the use of her cure an issue of morals?
Does the spread of her story spark inner quarrels?
That she helped so many yet remains unnamed
I’m gonna make it to heaven. Light up the sky like a flame.

That corporations get rich while her family is helpless
Seems to be more than a little bit selfish
The roads of power and greed lead only to shame
I’m gonna live forever. Baby, Remember my name.

For all who’ve been saved by her precious cells
Do you know her name? Does it ring any bells?
When you hear of her story, will tears blur your sight?
Baby, hold me tight, ’cause you can make it right.

The injustice of it all is enough to enrage
Pace the walls of a gilded cage
Science sometimes doesn’t know when to stop
You can shoot me straight to the top.

Finding a cure at the cost of one’s humanity
Taking lives for granted is insanity
Don’t pursue perfect life and forget to live
Give me love and take all I got to give.

One day her story will be well known
By all instead of her family and Scotties alone
And her family will again be able to trust
Baby, I’ll return. Too much is not enough.

Until the day comes when reparations are made
Into the past her name will continue to fade
With a hope to one day to undo the injustice and mistakes
I can ride your heart till it breaks. Ooh, I got what it takes.

She’s gonna live forever, she’s gonna learn how to fly
Her DNA’s coming together, people read her story and cry
She’s been flown up into the heavens, her story’s unknown, it’s a shame
She’s gonna live forever, yet no one remembers her name.

I’m gonna live forever. I’m gonna learn how to fly.
I feel it comin’ together. People will see me and cry.
I’m gonna make it to heaven. Light up the sky like a flame.
I’m gonna live forever. Baby, Remember my name.

I cannot donate myself. Not my blood, and not my organs. A live donation could pose a possibly lethal risk to me, and my tissue would be very bad for the recipient. A transfusion of my blood would be like trying to fill a bucket without first plugging the hole in the bottom.

I am a hemophiliac. I suffer from a bleeding disorder called Von Williebrand disease. It is the most common genetic bleeding disorder, estimated to have about three million (mostly undiagnosed) sufferers. Several other members of my family have the same disorder. This is not a new development. It’s not some life-spoiling shock that I was told recently. I have always had it, and I don’t know a life where I don’t soak through band-aids and cope with two-week long menstrual cycles. It doesn’t interfere too much with my daily life, but I have to be a little more careful than most people. (Wear helmets for everything or don’t play sports. Apply steady pressure for a few minutes even if it’s just a paper cut. Don’t roughhouse with your friends unless you want to be black and blue for two weeks.)

For all intents and purposes, though, my body is perfectly normal.

But nobody would want my blood.

In a way, I feel relieved about this. All the moral obligation, all the pain, all the debates of how hard the doctors really work to save the people with “donor” on their licenses… all non-issues for me.

My Red Cross nurse grandmother can guilt my healthy cousins to blood drives. But never me. After all, no one wants me bleeding out in public. Or me making someone else bleed to death with my tainted insides.

My blood protects me from having to deal with the unpleasant issues. There is nothing I can do about it. So naturally it makes me feel quite guilty!

I am deathly afraid of hypodermic needles. Injections, blood draws… it boarders on a phobia. It is not the pain of a needle, but the invasiveness. Something pushing into my flesh and injecting something foreign, or sucking something away – these are horrifying, upsetting things to me.

The invasion and thievery bothered me more than anything else in The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. Someone went into Henrietta and took a part of her. Something was thereafter missing. That bothers me on a very deep level.

We, as living creatures, lose parts of ourselves every day: we trim our nails, we cut our hair, dead skin cells slough off. Women build a whole new environment to house a life inside them every month… and then rid themselves of it should it go unoccupied. But these motions are entirely natural, even if they aren’t always voluntary.

What was done to Henrietta was neither natural nor voluntary, and I feel for that.

I hate blood draws and, beyond medical testing for my own health, I am not required to submit to them, yet this seems a poor excuse. It’s too convenient. It seems like my own body is conspiring to help me avoid something I detest. In spite of my hemophilia being a legitimate medical reason not to donate, it feels so flimsy. I am simultaneously glad and guilty.

Dr. Jones went into Henrietta Lacks and took from her body something that benefitted humanity. And, as The Immortal Life displayed, there are those in the world who are special, who have blood or tissues that can help other people.

My blood can’t help anyone. Though I would not go so far as to dub it a poison, material from my body is useless, if not outright harmful.

Agnes Scott students are often recognized for the quality of their writing.  This includes songwriting.  Perhaps you heard of Grammy winner, Jennifer Nettles ’97 or Youtube sensation, Tally Deushane ’12.

Could Chloe Weeks ‘ 16 be the next notable music star at Agnes Scott?  Students and professors actively involved in the instrumental music groups on campus will certainly want to listen to this instrumental piece, titled Last Tears, which Chloe composed after reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks.

After composing the song’s melody by ear, I began the recording process by recording the guitar part, then, one by one, I recorded and played the unique violin parts that make up the string arrangement. The main melody played by the violin was recorded last, after the arrangement was finished.

In her artist statement Chloe reveals that Psalm 126:5 (Those who sow with tears,  will reap with songs of joy) contributed to the composition.  “If anyone is deserving of joy and peace,” said Chloe,  “it is surely a person like Henrietta Lacks, whose suffering and tears on this earth will not be forgotten.”

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