#jamesdickey

[bonnettsbooks]

5/30/24 — Open 6-9p Mask recommended. No open drinks, please.

If you're looking for books to read while camping this Summer, we've got you covered like a premium tent! But, maybe you should pick something other than James Dickey's "Deliverance."

[movietitlescollection]

[llpodcast]

Deliverance (1972) Deliverance is a 1972 American survival thriller film produced and directed by John Boorman, and starring Jon Voight, Burt Reynolds, Ned Beatty, and Ronny Cox, with the latter two making their feature film debuts. The screenplay was adapted by James Dickey from his 1970 novel of the same name. The film was a critical and box office success, earning three Academy Award nominations and five Golden Globe Award nominations. Widely acclaimed as a landmark picture, the film is noted for a music scene near the beginning, with one of the city men playing "Dueling Banjos" on guitar with a banjo-picking country boy, and for its notorious, violent, brutal sodomy rape scene. In 2008, Deliverance was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant." Race With The Devil (1973) Race with the Devil is a 1975 American action horror film directed by Jack Starrett, written by Wes Bishop and Lee Frost, and starring Peter Fonda, Warren Oates, Loretta Swit, and Lara Parker. This was the second of three films Fonda and Oates would star in together (The Hired Hand, 1971) was their first, and 92 in the Shade (1975) was their third). Race with the Devil is a hybrid of the horror, action, and car chase genres. Opening Credits; Introduction (1.04); Background History (20.15); Deliverance (1972) Film Trailer (21.45); The Original (24.37); Let's Rate (57.29); Introducing the Double Feature (1:02.27); Race With The Devil (1973) Film Trailer (1:03.30); The Attraction (1:05.30); How Many Stars (1:51.31); End Credits (1:58.50); Closing Credits (2:00.23) Opening Credits– Epidemic Sound – copyright 2021. All rights reserved Closing Credits: Take Me Home, Country Roads by Olivia Newton John. Taken from the album Let Me Be There. Copyright 1973 Festival Records ​ Original Music copyrighted 2020 Dan Hughes Music and the Literary License Podcast. All rights reserved. Used by Kind Permission. All songs available through Amazon Music.

[theremightbecupcakespodcast]

Lifetime #bucketlist and @getlitsy #screamathon read, both. I fell in love with Will Patton as a narrator listening to the Mr. Mercedes trilogy by #StephenKing. His interesting, folksy voice is made for Americana literature—Dickey and Steinbeck and Twain and Faulkner. “The world is easily lost.” — Deliverance #horror #americanliterature #americanlit #audiobooks #audiobook #willpatton #deliverance #audible #jamesdickey #bucketlists #readingbucketlists #books #amreading #bookstagram #readersofinstagram #prettybookcovers #classicbooks https://www.instagram.com/p/B3NOFOvgS3a/?igshid=10wcoypvkvcfw

[firsteditionbookblog]

Perhaps best know for his novel “Deliverance,” James Dickey was also an accomplished and acclaimed poet and even won the National Book Award for “Buckdancer’s Choice.” “The Zodiac” was Dickey’s first published long poem, and is dedicated to Hendrix Marsman who was lost at sea during the Second World War in the North Atlantic. This poem is something of an ekphrastic poem in response to Marsman’s long piece also called “The Zodiac.” Boldly signed with that famous Dickey signature, in the slipcase. Fine/Fine, signed. . . . . #jamesdickey #deliverance #thezodiac #hendrikmarsman #nationalbookaward #rarebooks #firstedition #bookcollection #bookcollecting #bookcollection #bibliophile #bookporn #bookhunting #bookstagram #modernfirsts #modernfirsteditions #finebooks #signedbooks #shelfie #southernliterature #southernlit #tennessee #appalachianlit #appalachianliterature #kentucky #northcarolina #virginia #westvirginia #appalachianpoetry #southcarolina https://www.instagram.com/p/CeceRXTsMBf/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[therealmikeblair]

Southern reading. . . . . #poetry #southernpoetry #publiclibrary #wendellberry #jamesdickey (at Wilmington, North Carolina)

[rmdreier]

1970 HC Deliverance James Dickey BCE. Basis for movie of the same name. Writing to inside front cover as shown, otherwise a solid clean copy. 📦$7 shipped in the US. Claim in comments or DM to purchase. 📚🐖🛶🚣 #deliverance #jamesdickey #thriller #survival #georgia #burtreynolds #johnboorman #nedbeatty #canoetrip #jonvoight #ronnycox #duelingbanjos #hillbilly #vintagebooks4sale #vintage #vintagebooks #vintagebookseller #booksofinstagram #bookstagram #bookseller #bookworm #bibliophile #bookaddict #bookaneer #bookaneer4sale (at Dodge Center, Minnesota) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9PnD1CAR2A/?igshid=w1kcgkajwi2j

[tenebraerick]

Thrift store finds: #lovecraft #clivebarker #jamesdickey #michaelmadsenpoetry

[theeyelinermanifesto]

‘The river and everything I remembered about it became a possession to me, a personal, private possession, as nothing else in my life ever had. Now it ran nowhere but in my head, but there it ran as though immortally. I could feel it -- I can feel it -- on different places on my body.... In me it still is, and will be until I die, green, rocky, deep, fast, slow, and beautiful beyond reality.’ —James Dickey, Deliverance . . • Y’all. This dust jacket is everything! Another first edition score from the estate sale I went to last week. Who else was scarred for life by this book/film?!? 🛶⛺️🖤✨. . • #grimdragon 🎉Happy Birthday Corey! 🎉 @grimdark_dad @the_infinite_book_dragon . . • Slytherin colors #geekyglowreadslabyrinth @thegeekyyogi @amberafterglowreads . . • #febinbooks18 @xenatine @bookisglee . . • Animals... #thereadersbooknook @chan_marie25 @wherethereadergrows . . #deliverance #jamesdickey #southernlit #southernliterature #novel #bookish #bookstagram #booknerdigans #libraryofinstagram #readordie #booklover #epicreads #bookdragon #booknerd #booklove #bookblog #readersofinstagram #instabook #readersgonnaread #bookreviewer #bookster #currentlyreading #bookcommunity #booktography

[filmartgallery]

British Quad for #DELIVERANCE (1972) starring #BurtReynolds & #JonVoight and directed by #JohnBoorman. Based on the novel by #JamesDickey; DP #VilmosZsigmond

[imaginedfights-blog]

James Dickey

Happened while I was in the shower, thinking about writing, and my failure at writing, I think.

I was in some sort of office space or meeting place with the famed author and poet, and he was explaining to me the inspiration for one of the weirdo hillbillies in “Deliverance,” specifically one of the guys at the mechanic’s near the beginning of the book. One of Dickey’s friends was there, too, another good ol’ boy like himself, sitting in a leather chair. Sort of like the Burt Reynolds character in the book — strong, athletic, handsome. And the way Dickey was explaining the character, he seemed sort of condescending to me. Like, he knew more about rednecks than I did, and that somehow made him more of a man or writer. And I thought it was interesting to sort of own knowledge of that info, since aren’t those the bad guys in the novel? Or representations of lesser man? And so why did he feel some sort of ownership of that information, if he was an advanced man, a man of letters? And why would he assume that I knew less than him on this subject? But the way I brought it up was sort of like, “You must feel pretty connected to that guy.” And he was like, “Well of course I do. What kind of goddamned statement is that.” His friend was in agreement. Here I was again, on the outskirts of Man Knowledge. And I said something along the lines of, “Well, why would you feel so connected to this lesser person if you are who you are.” I still don’t know what I was trying to say by that point, not entirely. It was really just Dickey’s ego and his tone with me that had me worked up. I felt the anger and adrenaline positioning me. Dickey stood up and wagged his finger at me and said something dismissive and also aggressive. And I was just like, “You know what, Dickey? Why don’t you shut the fuck up, or I’m going to break your fucking nose. How about that?” His friend stood up and came at me, and I turned and punched him in the nose with my left. And then I went at Dickey and started flogging him with fists. I didn’t care. I didn’t care what would happen. I didn’t appreciate his tone.

[terrycanales40]

RT @James_Barragan: In her column, @EricaGrieder reveals that @MQSullivan of Empower Texans met with @TexasGOP chairman @jamesdickey to tell him Bonnen targeting scandal recording was coming. Sullivan pushed for Bonnen to be replaced & named potential candidates #txlege https://t.co/1Y1uhnoAgz

In her column, @EricaGrieder reveals that @MQSullivan of Empower Texans met with @TexasGOP chairman @jamesdickey to tell him Bonnen targeting scandal recording was coming. Sullivan pushed for Bonnen to be replaced & named potential candidates #txlege https://t.co/1Y1uhnoAgz

— James Barragán (@James_Barragan) June 24, 2020

via Twitter https://twitter.com/TerryCanales40 June 24, 2020 at 11:15AM

[firsteditionbookblog]

Katherine and I have a had a wonder honeymoon in the Virgin Islands over the last couple weeks! Lots of reading and sunshine and beaches. Here was my reading stack and I’m kinda suprised that I finished all except the William Stafford book. Breece Pancake is always amazing, just as powerful as my first reading. It occurred to me that most of his works occur between two traumas, with the first leading to the second. I highly recommend him. This was my first reading of ‘Deliverance’ by James Dickey. I’m not sure I expected it to be a coming of age type book. The Robert Morgan book didn’t disappoint either, though I think ‘Land Diving’ or ‘Groundwork’ remain my favorites. I think Emma Bell Miles book ‘The Spirit of the Mountains’ was my favorite on this trip. Excellent writing and genuine descriptions of mountain people at the turn of the last century. It doesn’t rely on stereotypes so much as gives honest opinions. This work is something of a treasure. ‘Specter Mountain’ by Graves and Wright only gets better on subsequent readings. Then the seashell book and the climbing guide! We bouldered on Virgin Gorda for a week, but found almost no shells. . . . . . . . #jamesdickey #breecedjpancake #emmabellmiles #robertmorgan #jessegraves #williamwright #williamstafford #deliverance #thestoriesofbreecedjpancake #thespiritofthemountains #eventhequietplaces #spectermountain #darkenergy #rarebooks #firstedition #bookcollection #bookcollecting #bookcollection #bibliophile #bookporn #bookhunting #bookstagram #modernfirsts #modernfirsteditions #finebooks #signedbooks #shelfie #southernliterature #southernlit #tennessee #appalachianlit #appalachianliterature #kentucky #northcarolina #virginia #westvirginia #southcarolina https://www.instagram.com/p/BzWAF_Lp26s/?igshid=1o8s564047t5h

[rebeccapricex96]

The Leap -James Dickey

The only thing I have of Jane MacNaughton Is one instant of a dancing-class dance.​ She was the fastest runner in the seventh grade,​ My scrapbook says, even when boys were beginning To be as big as the girls.​ But I do not have her running in my mind, Though Frances Lane is there, Agnes Fraser, Fat Betty Lou Black in the boys- Against-girls Relays we ran at recess: She must have run Like the other girls, with her skirts Tucked up​ So they would be like bloomers, But I cannot tell; That part of her is gone. What I do have is when she came, With the hem of skirt where it should be For a young lady, into the annual dance​ Of the dancing class we all hated, And with a light grave leap, jumped up And touched the end Of one of the paper-ring decorations To see if she could reach it. She could, And reached me now as well, Hanging in my mind​ From a brown chain of brittle paper, thin And muscular, wide-mouthed, Eager to prove Whatever it proves when you leap In a new dress, a new womanhood, Among the boys Whom you easily left in the dust​ Of the passionless playground. If I said I saw in the paper where Jane MacNaughton Hill, mother of four, leapt To her death from a window of a Downtown hotel, and that her body Crushed in the top of a parked taxi, and That I held​, without trembling, a picture Of her lying cradled in that papery steel As though lying in the grass, one shoe Idly off, arms folded across her breast, I would not believe myself. I would say the convenient thing, that it Was a bad dream​ of Maturity, to see That eternal process most obsessively Wrong with the world come out of her Light, earth-spurning feet grown heavy: I would say that in the dusty heels Of the playground some boy who did Not depend ​​on speed of foot, caught And betrayed her. Jane, stay where you are in my first Mind: It was odd in that school, At that dance, I and the other slow-Footed yokels sat in corners cutting Rings out of drawing paper​ Before you leapt in your new dress And touched the end of something I Began, above the couples struggling on The floor, new men and women Clutching at each other and prancing Foolishly as bears: Hold on​ To that ring I made for you, Jane -- My feet are nailed to the ground By dust I swallowed thirty years ago -- While I examine my hands.

[robfunderburk]

Sketch portrait studies of poet/author James Dickey, for the May 2014 issue of Poetry Magazine / @poetrysince1912. Thanks a mil to Art Director Fred Sasaki. 

[chickensinliterature]

From POWER AND LIGHT by James Dickey

Image: Rooster by André Kertész  New York, 1952

  "I may even be

A man, I tell my wife: all day I climb myself

Bowlegged up those damned poles    rooster-heeled in all

Kinds of weather    and what is there when I get

Home? Yes, woman trailing ground-oil

Like a snail, home is where I climb down,

And this is the house I pass through on my way

To power and light.

Going into the basement is slow, but the built-on smell of home

Beneath home gets better with age    the ground fermenting

And spilling through the barrel-cracks of plaster    the dark

Lying on the floor, ready for use    as I crack

The seal on the bottle    like I tell you it takes

A man to pour whiskey in the dark    and CLOSE THE DOOR

    Between

The children and me.

The heads of nails drift deeper through their boards

And disappear. Years in the family dark have made me good

At this    nothing else is so good    pure fires of the Self

Rise crooning in lively blackness    and the silence around them,

Like the silence inside a mouth, squirms with colors,

The marvelous worms of the eye float out into the real

World    sunspots

Dancing as though existence were

One huge closed eye    and I feel the wires running

Like the life-force along the limed rafters    and all connections    

With poles    with the tarred naked belly-buckled black

Trees I hook to my heels     with the shrill phone calls leaping

Long distance    long distances through my hands    all connections

Even the one

With my wife, turn good    turn better than good    turn good

Not quite, but in the deep sway of underground    among the roots

That bend like branches    all things connect    and stream

Toward light and speech    tingle    rock like a powerline in wind,

Like a man working, drunk on pine-moves    the sun in the socket

Of his shoulder     and on his neck dancing like dice-dots

And I laugh

Like my own fate watching over me night and day    at home

Underground     or flung up on towers walking

Over mountains    my charged hair standing on end    crossing

The sickled, slaughtered alleys of timber

Where the lines loop and crackle on their gallows,

Far under the grass of my grave, I drink like a man

The night before

Resurrection Day. My watch glows with the time to rise

And shine. Never think I don’t know my profession

Will lift me: why, all over hell the lights burn in your eyes,

People are calling each other    weeping with a hundred thousand

Volts    making deals    pleading    laughing like fate,

Far off,  invulnerable    or with the right word pierced

To the heart

By wires I held, shooting off their ghostly mouths,

In my gloves. The house spins    I strap crampons to my shoes

To climb the basement stairs, sinking my heels in the tree-

Life of the boards. Thorns! Thorns! I am bursting

Into the kitchen, into the sad way-station

Of my home, holding a double handful of wires

Spitting like sparklers

On the Fourth of July. Woman, I know the secret of sitting

In light    of eating a limp piece of bread    under

The red-veined eyeball of a bulb. It is all in how you are

Grounded. To bread I can see, I say, as it disappears and agrees

With me    the dark is drunk    and I am a man

Who turns on. I am a man."

Published March 11, 1967 in The New Yorker