Venus in Arms is Criss Jami's 2nd poetry book. It contains a total of 30 poems, each followed by a brief word of thought.

A visual history of female bodybuilders and other muscular women from the late nineteenth to mid-twentieth centuries.

In 1976 Gelya Frank began writing about the life of Diane DeVries, a woman born with all the physical and mental equipment she would need to live in our society--except arms and legs. Frank was 28 years old, DeVries 26. This remarkable book--by turns moving, funny, and revelatory--records the relationship that developed between the women over the next twenty years. An empathic listener and participant in DeVries's life, and a scholar of the feminist and disability rights movements, Frank argues that Diane DeVries is a perfect example of an American woman coming of age in the second half of the twentieth century. By addressing the dynamics of power in ethnographic representation, Frank--anthropology's leading expert on life history and life story methods--lays the critical groundwork for a new genre, "cultural biography." Challenged to examine the cultural sources of her initial image of DeVries as limited and flawed, Frank discovers that DeVries is gutsy, buoyant, sexy--and definitely not a victim. While she analyzes the portrayal of women with disabilities in popular culture--from limbless circus performers to suicidal heroines on the TV news--Frank's encounters with DeVries lead her to come to terms with her own "invisible disabilities" motivating the study. Drawing on anthropology, philosophy, psychoanalysis, narrative theory, law, and the history of medicine, Venus on Wheels is an intellectual tour de force.

Even though there were relatively few people of color in postrevolutionary France, images of and discussions about black women in particular appeared repeatedly in a variety of French cultural sectors and social milieus. In Vénus Noire, Robin Mitchell shows how these literary and visual depictions of black women helped to shape the country’s postrevolutionary national identity, particularly in response to the trauma of the French defeat in the Haitian Revolution. Vénus Noire explores the ramifications of this defeat in examining visual and literary representations of three black women who achieved fame in the years that followed. Sarah Baartmann, popularly known as the Hottentot Venus, represented distorted memories of Haiti in the French imagination, and Mitchell shows how her display, treatment, and representation embodied residual anger harbored by the French. Ourika, a young Senegalese girl brought to live in France by the Maréchal Prince de Beauvau, inspired plays, poems, and clothing and jewelry fads, and Mitchell examines how the French appropriated black female identity through these representations while at the same time perpetuating stereotypes of the hypersexual black woman. Finally, Mitchell shows how demonization of Jeanne Duval, longtime lover of the poet Charles Baudelaire, expressed France’s need to rid itself of black bodies even as images and discourses about these bodies proliferated. The stories of these women, carefully contextualized by Mitchell and put into dialogue with one another, reveal a blind spot about race in French national identity that persists in the postcolonial present.

At thirty-five, Mary Frazier Armstrong, called "Frazier" by friends and enemies alike, is a sophisticated woman with a thriving art gallery, a healthy bank balance, and an enviable social position. In fact, she has everything to live for, but she's lying in a hospital bed with a morphine drip in her arm and a life expectancy measured in hours. "Don't die a stranger," her assistant says on her last hospital visit. "Tell the people you love who you are." And so, as her last act on earth, Frazier writes letters to her closest family and friends, telling them exactly what she thinks of them and, since she will be dead by the time they receive the letters, the truth about herself: she's gay. The letters are sent. Then the manure hits the fan in Charlottesville, Virginia, because the funny thing is, Frazier Armstrong isn't going to die after all.

Improving your relationships by understanding how men and women cope differently with stress.

NINE YEAR OLD Margot remembers the sun. "[A] yellow crayon or a coin large enough to buy the world with . . . a warmness, like a blushing in the face, in the body, in the arms and legs and trembling hands." In Ray Bradbury's revered short story, "All Summer in a Day," the last time Margot saw the sun was when she was four years old and still living on Earth. After her family moved to Venus a year later, she longed to see the sun again and to feel its warmth on her skin. On the one day every seven years when it stops raining on Venus and the sun breaks through the perpetual cloud cover to brighten the landscape for a brief two hours, Margot is locked away in a dark closet by her jealous classmates. Readers familiar with the graceful and poetic writing of Ray Bradbury - and those new to his literary magic - will find themselves empathetic toward a young girl who is kept from feeling and seeing the sunlight by her mean-spirited peers. Jump forward in time and meet Margot at 16. In the story "When the Rain Stops," Jason Marchi provides one plausible and satisfying answer to the question left in readers' minds at the end of Bradbury's classic tale of aloneness - whatever happened to Margot?? Foreword by William F. Nolan, co-author of Logan's Run, one of the most seminal novels in the annals of science fiction.? Introduction by Dr. Jonathan R. Eller, Director of the Center for Ray Bradbury Studies at Indiana University Purdue University Indianapolis (IUPUI).? Discussions section for creative writing students.? Bonus letter from Bradbury to Marchi in March of 2002.