Risa Christy Peris
Bio
I dream of having a chicken sanctuary, a sloth as a walking partner, and a refrigerator full of cheesecake. I love polka dots, mixing cocktails, and mysteries – from Sherlock Holmes to the quirkiness of quantum stuff.
Stories (2/0)
Rhapsody and Indifference: Sexuality and Families
D.H. Lawrence is a writer who seems both known and unknown. Most of us who took literature in college or who were assigned The Rocking-Horse Winner in high school, know of Lady Chatterley’s Lover and its scandalous history. I read it at fifteen and have read at least eight years in between since then. My attitude towards the “banned” sex in the novel changes every time I read it. During my last read, it seemed less rapturous and the sex seemed odd; that is likely due to time and experience and the realization that the novel speaks more to class than sex. I remember being on a date years ago with an English man and he said the most shocking thing about the book was that the Lady of the Manor “stooped” a “yardsman”. Some people (and professors are people) abhor him and yet I am always engrossed by his books, poems, and short stories. He is profoundly good at describing the internal life of a person. My latest read is “Rainbow”. It has little dialogue, but it is sumptuous in its descriptions of the characters' inner thoughts and desires. It is about family and the steel thread of sexuality that supports each generation.
By Risa Christy Peris3 years ago in Families
Brown I Own
Wednesday, October 31, 1931 - He was born hard and feisty. Screamed so loud the nurse nearly dropped him. Good morning, Clay. Babe who fussed in his mom’s arms. He was a dark nut brown. Darker than the babe before. Grandpa Roy, a common law husband, waved his hand. “Not mine.” Grandma held him closer. “What does it matter? Color of skin. He’s yours. He’s mine.” She was a migrant farm worker. Anxious to leave the California hospital so she could make money in the fields. She placed him next to Uncle Smile. Ismael. They would always be united by her heart, womb, blood thicker than old viscous glass dripping like windows in some distant English manor.
By Risa Christy Peris3 years ago in Families
