Travels with Ernest: Crossing the Literary/sociological Divide

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Rowman Altamira, 2004 - 259 Seiten
In Travels with Ernest: Crossing the Literary/Sociological Divide, Laurel Richardson and Ernest Lockridge-accomplished sociologist and published novelist-explore the fascinating interplay between literary and ethnographic writing. The exciting result is an intriguing experimental text that simultaneously delves into, reveals, simplifies, and complicates methodologies of writing and conveying experience. Refusing to force their unique voices into one integrated account, the authors-also spouses-explicate their stories in separate narratives and then discuss in transcribed free-wheeling conversations their different constructions of their travels together, travels simultaneously experienced, but recalled and related differently through the filters of distinct professional perceptions, life histories, and interiors. This boundary-crossing text will provide an ideal platform for students and professors interested in understanding and exploring the absorbing complexities and possibilities of ethnographic writing,and creative nonfiction. Visit our website for sample chapters!
 

Ausgewählte Seiten

Inhalt

DEATH VALLEY March 512 1993
3
Ah Wilderness
13
Death Valley
17
IRELAND July 526 1987
25
Unquiet American
35
Ireland
64
BEIRUT LEBANON August 1822 1999
75
Laurel in Arabia
79
Russia
143
ST PETERSBURG BEACH FLORIDA March 29 2002
149
Ernest Goes to Yale
160
St Pete Beach
174
SEDONA ARIZONA 19892002
181
Grandson of Paleface
190
1996
197
1997
200

Beirut
83
Beirut
86
COPENHAGEN DENMARK April 8162000
91
Stranger in a Stranger Land
106
Copenhagen
119
PETROZAVODSK RUSSIA April 16262000
127
To Russia with Love
136
19982002
204
HAPPY TRAILTHE MOVIE
213
HOW THIS BOOK WAS MADE
239
INDEX
247
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
257
CREDITS
259
Urheberrecht

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Seite 1 - Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.

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