Predicated upon the principles of political freedom, cultural openness, religious tolerance, individual self-reliance and ethnic diversity, the United States of America has been tempted recurrently by the lures of the secret. American Secrets explores this political, historical and cultural phenomenon from many, often surprisingly overlapping angles in these analyses of the literary and cultural uses and abuses of secrecy within a democratic culture. Through analyses of diverse literary works and cultural manifestations - from Twain's anti-imperialist prophecies to 9/11 conspiracy theories, from the traumas of the Vietnam war to the homophobia of the American military establishment, from the unresolved dilemmas of nuclear politics to the secret ecologies shunted aside by the exploitation of the environment, from the questionings of national identity from the ethnic and (trans)sexual margins to the confessional modes of poetry and the poetics of the unspeakable and unrepresentable - these essays reveal the politics within the poetics and, indissociably, the poetics fueling the politics of secrecy in its ambivalent deployment.
|Publisher:||Fairleigh Dickinson University Press|
|Sold by:||Barnes & Noble|
|File size:||619 KB|
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What made me tick was Debbie and her friends at the pink house with the pink car. Debbie is a girly girl with beautiful, lustrous, silky, curly honey blond hair and blue eyes. She had three other friends in her popular clique- Britney, Angel and Savannah. Britney looks like Debbie. Angel also looks like Debbie but with lighter hair. Last and possibly my "favorite", Savannah. She has black-brown hair, preferably crimped and in a ponytail, medium skin the color of brown rice and brown eyes. They make fun of my clothes and my tomboyish additude. She and her friends were making the most noise this particular night. I wanted to yell at them, but they, of all people, live next door to Reynie. He lives in the red brick house and drives the green car with the equality bumper sticker. If I yell, he'll know where I am, because he's a total night owl. If anyone, absolutely ANYONE yells, he'll know. He says it's okay for me to yell at them, but he's mad, so lets do this! Sorry for the sarcasm. Now I'm stuck thinking like that and I can't go forwards and onwards or back to the beggining of this tangled mess.