James Tate

James Vincent Tate was born in Kansas City, Missouri. He has taught creative writing at the University of California, Berkeley and Columbia University, and currently teaches at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, where he has worked since 1971. He is a member of the poetry faculty at the MFA Program for Poets & Writers, along with Dara Wier and Peter Gizzi.Dudley Fitts selected Tate's first book of poems, The Lost Pilot (1967) for the Yale Series of Younger Poets while Tate was still a student at the University of Iowa Writers' Workshop; Fitts praised Tate's writing for its "natural grace." Despite the early praise he received Tate alienated some of his fans in the seventies with a series of poetry collections that grew more and more strange.He has published two books of prose, Dreams of a Robot Dancing Bee (2001) and The Route as Briefed (1999). His awards include a National Institute of Arts and Letters Award, the Wallace Stevens Award, a Pulitzer Prize in poetry, a National Book Award, and fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts. He is currently a Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets.Tate's writing style is difficult to describe, but has been identified with the postmodernist and neo-surrealist movements. He has been known to play with phrases culled from news items, history, anecdotes, or common speech; later cutting, pasting, and assembling such divergent material into tightly woven compositions that reveal bizarre and surreal insights into the absurdity of human nature.

Quotes

b2844064333has quoted2 years ago
I spotted Cass across the parking lot, standing over the bearded Reaper who'd punched me. He seemed to say something to the man, then shot him straight in the face.
b2844064333has quoted2 years ago
I spotted Cass across the parking lot, standing over the bearded Reaper who'd punched me. He seemed to say something to the man, then shot him straight in the face.

That left just one enemy alive, and he was on his knees with his brother's gun to his head.

"You're a fucking traitor," Zane spat at Cass, who sauntered over to stand beside Archer with his gun held ever so casually in his hand. "You think you can just take my place? My family created the Reapers. They'll never follow a snake like you."

Cass just arched a scarred brow and shrugged. "Well, that's not really your problem, is it? You signed away your life the second you made a move against Archer, and you knew it."

Zane snarled. "Fuck you, Cass. Fuck you."

"You're boring me," Archer commented, his voice dry and devoid of any human emotions. "And you broke the rules."

Bang.

Just like that, the Shadow Grove Reapers saw a change of leadership.
b2844064333has quoted2 years ago
He kissed my fingers again, then slid out of the car and left me alone. I stared down at my hand for a long time, my eyes locked on my new diamond ring, and felt a strange sense of relief that Zane hadn't taken the heirloom. I was crazy attached to the thing.
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