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Can a new college football stadium buy a seat at the table? Inside USF’s $340 million bet

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Can a new college football stadium buy a seat at the table? Inside USF’s 0 million bet

TAMPA, Fla. — In September 2021, Will Weatherford stood between green and gold balloons under a white canopy and made the proclamation that could change the trajectory of South Florida football.

After playing their first 25 years across town at the Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ stadium, the Bulls were ready for their own home. Weatherford vowed an on-campus stadium — a building that has been discussed longer than the school has existed — was finally “going to happen.”

There was, South Florida’s board of trustees chairperson confessed later, a minor technicality: Weatherford had no actual plan.

No location in mind. No idea how much it would cost. No proposal to pay for it. And no contingencies for whatever industry headwinds were brewing.

“Sometimes in life,” Weatherford said, “you just have to speak things into existence.”

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Like a $340 million stadium. Or, just maybe, a program’s return to major college football after being left behind.

USF administrators say the 35,000-seat venue will transform the university and transcend fall Saturdays when it opens in 2027. But it’s also a nine-figure shot at relevance for a football program that has never won a conference title or appeared in a major bowl game.

Though some premier programs are reevaluating the facilities arms race as they prepare to pay players directly, the Bulls are charging ahead with the most expensive project in program history. The risk is that borrowing $200 million becomes an albatross around the neck of a middling mid-major program that remains a middling mid-major program while the sport’s juggernauts consolidate even more power.

The potential reward is a seat back at the table for whatever the next stage of major college football is — before it’s too late.

“We don’t just want to be in the game,” Weatherford said. “We want to be competitive in the game and win.”

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USF plans to open its new stadium in 2027. (Courtesy of USF Athletics)

A stadium 70 years in the making

The first idea for a South Florida football stadium surfaced around 1957, three years before the school’s first class. County commissioners discussed zoning in the campus’ northwest corner, but university president John S. Allen didn’t want intercollegiate athletics interfering with academics. Today, buildings for continuing education and public health stand where the stadium could have been. There’s a Hooters just down the street.

Simply fielding a football team was a literal uphill challenge. The university needed a push from a Bucs legend, Hall of Famer Lee Roy Selmon, to start a Division I-AA program that debuted a dozen miles away at Tampa Bay’s NFL stadium in 1997. Players drilled on slanted fields until 2000 when Tampa’s Raymond James Stadium prepared to host Super Bowl XXXV. The NFL couldn’t let the Ravens practice on a slope, so the league helped fix it. Current athletic director Michael Kelly remembers how happy administrators were; USF got a level field and saved several thousand dollars.

Stadium ideas popped up periodically over the decades. Kelly wrote about a venue for a grad school assignment before joining the Bulls. A park committee proposed a sports complex on an island between Tampa and St. Petersburg. As Florida prepared a bid to host the 2012 Summer Olympics, officials discussed an 85,000-seat facility that could be downsized afterward for USF.

The ideas never gained traction, even as stadiums opened at comparable programs like UCF (2007), Houston (2014), Tulane (2014) and Colorado State (2017). In 1998, the Bulls’ athletic director told the St. Petersburg Times a new building “wouldn’t make any sense” because it’d be too expensive. Three weeks later, SMU broke ground on a 32,000-seat stadium that, adjusted for inflation, cost a third of USF’s proposal.

“I think everybody thought that you should (build one),” Kelly said. “But the practical realities were, there was certainly no money and not high enough on the priority list of the university at the time to make that happen.”

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The university’s priorities remained academics: gaining state recognition as a preeminent school and joining the prestigious Association of American Universities (AAU). Football facilities remained lower despite the Bulls’ climb to the Big East. USF announced plans for a $22 million indoor practice facility — a practical necessity in a rainy region — under one coach (Charlie Strong), began building it under another (Jeff Scott) and opened it under a third (Alex Golesh).

The list changed in 2021 when Weatherford made his proclamation under the white canopy during the groundbreaking ceremony for the indoor facility. The former Florida statehouse speaker and Jacksonville University defensive end wondered why USF didn’t have a stadium. He never got a good reason. But he was in position to change it.

South Florida’s president left a month before Weatherford’s announcement, and Weatherford made it clear the successor would agree with his vision. Trustees made stadium progress an objective for interim president Rhea Law and one of their presidential goals after she earned the full-time job.

“I wish we would have done it a long time ago …” Weatherford said. “Just because you didn’t do it 30 years ago doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it today.”

Even if today looks very different than it did three years ago, much less 30.

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If you build it …

Though conference realignment has never been the stadium’s primary selling point, its specter has hovered in the background.

Weatherford made his proclamation as the Big 12 was on the verge of expansion; South Florida didn’t make the cut. A trustee has asked in two board meetings whether a stadium would help the Bulls get into the SEC.

When Weatherford sought final financing approval from the state, he highlighted the Bulls’ four American Athletic Conference peers — Houston, Cincinnati, SMU and rival UCF — that earned spots in the Big 12 or ACC.

“It’s no coincidence that every one of these universities also made a significant investment in their athletic facilities, either through a new stadium or making tremendous renovations to their existing one,” Weatherford said in 2023.

Though it’s no coincidence, there’s no clear cause and effect, either.

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“I think it is what we would call a necessary but not sufficient condition,” said Michael Leeds, an economics professor at Temple.

Leeds has studied the impact of on-campus stadiums, and he followed Temple’s decision to stay at the Philadelphia Eagles’ venue instead of building on campus. His takeaway: Though a mid-major program probably does need an on-site stadium to move into the Power 4 …

“Building it,” Leeds said, “does not make it happen.”

But not building it might guarantee it doesn’t happen.

Though facilities are not the driving factor in realignment, they matter. To join the Mountain West as a full member, Hawaii agreed to help the state replace the inoperative Aloha Stadium by 2032.

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Facilities fall under “commitment to athletics success” — one of the rebuilding Pac-12’s five expansion criteria. If there were any doubts about the commitment Colorado State and San Diego State have shown as they move from the Mountain West, they can point to the combined half a billion dollars they spent to build stadiums.

Colorado State president Amy Parsons sees them as part of a cycle. TV partners, sponsors and other schools want to associate with competitive programs that excite fan bases, play in major bowls or make the NCAA Tournament.

“And it starts with, does a school have the commitment to the program and value the program in order to compete at that level?” Parsons said.

If a school is spending nine figures on its stadium, the answer is a clear yes. Especially against these headwinds.


San Diego State opened 35,000-seat Snapdragon Stadium in 2022. (Orlando Ramirez / Imagn Images)

Skyrocketing stadium costs

When Weatherford started speaking the Bulls’ stadium into existence, San Diego State was midway through building its 35,000-seat, multipurpose stadium. Thanks in part to lower-than-expected interest rates from the pandemic, Snapdragon Stadium’s final price before opening in 2022 was $310 million.

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If the Aztecs had to build it today, athletic director John David Wicker said, it would probably cost between $450 million and $500 million.

“At this point,” Wicker said, “I don’t know how feasible that would be.”

That, too, hovers in the background at South Florida.

Faculty have expressed concerns about erecting a stadium and adjoining operations center for football and the new women’s lacrosse team while classrooms had mold or leaky roofs. Citing hidden or unforeseen costs, the faculty senate’s president cast the trustees’ lone vote against the stadium budget.

A pair of 2023 memos from Florida’s Division of Bond Finance questioned “arguably ambitious” projections of ticket sales and other “historically volatile” sources. If the Bulls miss their targets and can’t handle $19.6 million in annual debt service, it warned the school risks relying on its endowment or cutting athletics’ budget.

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Attendance remains a long-term question. Half of USF’s conference home games fail to draw at least 30,000 fans. And how often will teams like Alabama and Florida revisit if the SEC expands its conference schedule or starts an alliance with the Big Ten?

Doubts didn’t disappear in 2023 when trustees and the state separately approved a $340 million budget: $200 million in debt, $50 million in donations, $31 million from capital funds and the rest from sources like the sale of old broadband equipment and auxiliary parking/bookstore funds. No tax dollars are included.

Trustees still have not approved the final cost, which Weatherford said has gone up. He referred to it as a “$400 million building” in November but said recently it will be “well within what we can afford.” The project has already been postponed a year because of a backed-up supply chain — and that was before the Trump administration’s tariffs and research funding cuts added uncertainties in construction and higher education.

Those complications come as athletic departments brace for a new expense: paying players. The prospect of $20.5 million in revenue-sharing has, along with rising construction costs, reshaped the once-booming facilities arms race. Alabama, Auburn, Miami and Ole Miss have all paused or scaled back major football/basketball projects. After Maryland football moved into its new home in 2021, Mike Locksley bemoaned the timing, saying that facilities matter less in recruiting because players would “get dressed in the trash can for $25,000.”

But if the calculus was that simple, Florida wouldn’t be exploring a $1 billion upgrade to The Swamp, and Florida State wouldn’t be spending $380 million to renovate Doak Campbell Stadium and add a football operations center. The Seminoles are investing because they expect facilities to matter more again in recruiting if every school has the same de facto salary cap.

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“We wanted to make sure coming out of whatever was going to happen that we were prepared to take advantage of the new age of college athletics,” Seminoles athletic director Michael Alford said.

That costs money.

The Bulls plan to max out on revenue-sharing under whatever guidelines they’re given by the conference, NCAA or courts. USF’s 2022-23 payout from the American was $8.2 million — more than $30 million less than the smallest Power 4 distribution, according to conference tax returns. To compete at the highest level possible, the Bulls are counting on help from the stadium’s new income streams: stronger ticket sales, pricier amenities, naming rights, extra events like concerts.

“You can’t share revenue,” Kelly said, “if you don’t have any.”

‘It’s still a dream’

Last fall, 38 months after Weatherford made the proclamation that could vault the Bulls back to national relevance, he stood under an even larger white canopy on a once-sloped swath of land a few hundred yards north. Green and gold streamers shot through the air as dignitaries dug golden shovels into a sand sculpture for the ceremonial groundbreaking of South Florida’s stadium.

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Five months later, the ground remains unbroken.


Despite a fall groundbreaking, USF hasn’t begun construction yet. (Matt Baker / The Athletic)

Though USF planned to begin construction by the end of February, bulldozers can’t start rumbling until the guaranteed maximum price is set. The lag time isn’t expected to keep the stadium from debuting for the 2027 opener against Louisville.

From there, administrators expect it to transform the university through greater involvement from students and alumni plus rising interest from donors and prospective students. Colorado State reported its second highest enrollment last year and is on track to top it this year. Parsons said it’s impossible to quantify Canvas Stadium’s impact on those numbers, but game days are a significant recruiting tool for everyone (not just athletes).

That’s critical as schools prepare for a demographic drop in college-aged students — the so-called enrollment cliff. Increased engagement from an on-campus stadium is one way to fight it and raise a university’s academic profile.

“I won’t say that it’s a slam dunk,” said Karen Weaver, a former college coach and administrator who teaches about the intersection of higher education and athletics at Penn. “But it’s certainly a way to elevate your campus enthusiasm for athletics.”

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And if that’s the goal at South Florida, Bill Sutton knows it’s feasible. He saw it firsthand.

When Sutton started working at UCF’s sport business management program, the Bulls were what the Knights aspired to be. USF was in the Big East, then a power conference, and skyrocketed to No. 2 in the nation. The War on I-4 rivalry began to turn after the Knights opened what’s now called FBC Mortgage Stadium in 2007. Sutton watched students stop wearing Florida and Florida State shirts and start supporting UCF. Fan interest and on-field success spiked, and the Knights capitalized on a perfect season and two other major bowl appearances to catapult past the Bulls and into the Big 12.

A similar leap is the dream scenario for South Florida, which is 99-117 since its week at No. 2.

“If the facility’s there, if it’s full, if the interest is there, all the things that we don’t really have right now would make the dream in play,” said Sutton, the director emeritus of USF’s Vinik Sport and Entertainment Management Program. “It’s still a dream.”

But it’s a dream that’s impossible to ignore for a program that has already been left behind once. USF is one of three ex-Big East schools that have failed to land in a power conference in football after the league splintered around 2012 and became the AAC. The other two: Temple and UConn.

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The stakes are rising again. TV contracts for the Big Ten, SEC, Big 12 and College Football Playoff are all set to expire between 2030-34 as an escape hatch opens for ACC schools. If major realignment — Big Ten/SEC spin-off? Super league? — is coming, that’s the likeliest timeline. It’s why Parsons said the pressure to build a stadium would be even more immense now than when Colorado State started its push.

“There’s a risk if you build it. There’s a risk if you don’t,” Parsons said. “And I would say in this landscape today, the risk if you don’t is even higher.”

USF officials say they’re happy in the American. The Bulls proved that in the fall when they, along with Memphis, Tulane and UTSA, turned down interest from the new-look Pac-12 to stay put. 

But where they are now might not be where they want or need to be in 5-10 years, if the ACC needs a new foothold in Florida, or the Big 12 expands again, or a fault line divides the teams willing to ante into the sport’s highest level from the ones that aren’t.

“We just want to make sure we’re on the right side of it,” Weatherford said. “I don’t even know what the right side of it means yet, but we’ll know it when we see it.”

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If college sports is entering a new era of paying players and, perhaps, super leagues, Kelly asks why it matters where programs were generations ago when conferences formed? In that case, South Florida has one of the nation’s largest student bodies and sits in a top-20, fast-growing market in a talent-rich state. The Bulls have been one of the conference’s most competitive in NIL and were among the nation’s first programs to put a sponsorship logo (Publix) on the field.

South Florida feels closer to the bottom of the Power 4 than the middle of the Group of 5, and the Bulls are willing to put a third of a billion dollars into a building to prove it.

“Everyone has to recognize their moment in history, I guess,” Kelly said. “There’s times that call for bold decisions. There’s times that call for true action.”

 

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Culture

Poetry Challenge: Memorize “The More Loving One” by W.H. Auden

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Poetry Challenge: Memorize “The More Loving One” by W.H. Auden

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Let’s memorize a poem! Not because it’s good for us or because we think we should, but because it’s fun, a mental challenge with a solid aesthetic reward. You can amuse yourself, impress your friends and maybe discover that your way of thinking about the world — or even, as you’ll see, the universe — has shifted a bit.

Over the next five days, we’ll look closely at a great poem by one of our favorite poets, and we’ll have games, readings and lots of encouragement to help you learn it by heart. Some of you know how this works: Last year more Times readers than we could count memorized a jaunty 18-line recap of an all-night ferry ride. (If you missed that adventure, it’s not too late to embark. The ticket is still valid.)

This time, we’re training our telescopes on W.H. Auden’s “The More Loving One” — a clever, compact meditation on love, disappointment and the night sky.

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Here’s the first of its four stanzas, read for us by Matthew McConaughey:

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The More Loving One by W.H. Auden 

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well 

That, for all they care, I can go to hell, 

But on earth indifference is the least 

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We have to dread from man or beast. 

Matthew McConaughey, actor and poet

In four short lines we get a brisk, cynical tour of the universe: hell and the heavens, people and animals, coldness and cruelty. Commonplace observations — that the stars are distant; that life can be dangerous — are wound into a charming, provocative insight. The tone is conversational, mixing decorum and mild profanity in a manner that makes it a pleasure to keep reading.

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Here’s Tracy K. Smith, a former U.S. poet laureate, with the second stanza:

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How should we like it were stars to burn 

With a passion for us we could not return? 

If equal affection cannot be, 

Let the more loving one be me. 

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Tracy K. Smith, poet

These lines abruptly shift the focus from astronomy to love, from the universal to the personal. Imagine how it would feel if the stars had massive, unrequited crushes on us! The speaker, couching his skepticism in a coy, hypothetical question, seems certain that we wouldn’t like this at all.

This certainty leads him to a remarkable confession, a moment of startling vulnerability. The poem’s title, “The More Loving One,” is restated with sweet, disarming frankness. Our friend is wearing his heart on his well-tailored sleeve.

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The poem could end right there: two stanzas, point and counterpoint, about how we appreciate the stars in spite of their indifference because we would rather love than be loved.

But the third stanza takes it all back. Here’s Alison Bechdel reading it:

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Admirer as I think I am 

Of stars that do not give a damn, 

I cannot, now I see them, say 

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I missed one terribly all day. 

Alison Bechdel, graphic novelist

The speaker downgrades his foolish devotion to qualified admiration. No sooner has he established himself as “the more loving one” than he gives us — and perhaps himself — reason to doubt his ardor. He likes the stars fine, he guesses, but not so much as to think about them when they aren’t around.

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The fourth and final stanza, read by Yiyun Li, takes this disenchantment even further:

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Were all stars to disappear or die, 

I should learn to look at an empty sky 

And feel its total dark sublime, 

Though this might take me a little time. 

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Yiyun Li, author

Wounded defiance gives way to a more rueful, resigned state of mind. If the universe were to snuff out its lights entirely, the speaker reckons he would find beauty in the void. A starless sky would make him just as happy.

Though perhaps, like so many spurned lovers before and after, he protests a little too much. Every fan of popular music knows that a song about how you don’t care that your baby left you is usually saying the opposite.

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The last line puts a brave face on heartbreak.

So there you have it. In just 16 lines, this poem manages to be somber and funny, transparent and elusive. But there’s more to it than that. There is, for one thing, a voice — a thinking, feeling person behind those lines.

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W.H. Auden in 1962. Sam Falk/The New York Times

When he wrote “The More Loving One,” in the 1950s, Wystan Hugh Auden was among the most beloved writers in the English-speaking world. Before this week is over there will be more to say about Auden, but like most poets he would have preferred that we give our primary attention to the poem.

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Its structure is straightforward and ingenious. Each of the four stanzas is virtually a poem unto itself — a complete thought expressed in one or two sentences tied up in a neat pair of couplets. Every quatrain is a concise, witty observation: what literary scholars call an epigram.

This makes the work of memorization seem less daunting. We can take “The More Loving One” one epigram at a time, marvelling at how the four add up to something stranger, deeper and more complex than might first appear.

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So let’s go back to the beginning and try to memorize that insouciant, knowing first stanza. Below you’ll find a game we made to get you started. Give it a shot, and come back tomorrow for more!

Your first task: Learn the first four lines!

Play a game to learn it by heart. Need more practice? Listen to Ada Limón, Matthew McConaughey, W.H. Auden and others recite our poem.

Question 1/6

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Let’s start with the first couplet. Fill in the rhyming words.

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well 

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That, for all they care, I can go to hell, 

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Tap a word above to fill in the highlighted blank.

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Ready for another round? Try your hand at the 2025 Poetry Challenge.

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Edited by Gregory Cowles, Alicia DeSantis and Nick Donofrio. Additional editing by Emily Eakin,
Joumana Khatib, Emma Lumeij and Miguel Salazar. Design and development by Umi Syam. Additional
game design by Eden Weingart. Video editing by Meg Felling. Photo editing by Erica Ackerberg.
Illustration art direction by Tala Safie.

Illustrations by Daniel Barreto.

Text and audio recording of “The More Loving One,” by W.H. Auden, copyright © by the Estate of
W.H. Auden. Reprinted by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd. Photograph accompanying Auden recording
from Imagno/Getty Images.

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Famous Authors’ Less Famous Books

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Famous Authors’ Less Famous Books

Literature

‘Romola’ (1863) by George Eliot

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Karl Leitz for Anthony Cotsifas Studio

Who knew that there’s a major George Eliot novel that neither I nor any of my friends had ever heard of?

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“Romola” was Eliot’s fourth novel, published between “The Mill on the Floss” (1860) and “Middlemarch” (1870-71). If my friends and I didn’t get this particular memo, and “Romola” is familiar to every Eliot fan but us, please skip the following.

“Romola” isn’t some fluky misfire better left unmentioned in light of Eliot’s greater work. It’s her only historical novel, set in Florence during the Italian Renaissance. It embraces big subjects like power, religion, art and social upheaval, but it’s not dry or overly intellectual. Its central character is a gifted, freethinking young woman named Romola, who enters a marriage so disastrous as to make Anna Karenina’s look relatively good.

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It probably matters that many of Eliot’s other books have been adapted into movies or TV series, with actors like Hugh Dancy, Ben Kingsley, Emily Watson and Rufus Sewell. The BBC may be doing even more than we thought to keep classic literature alive. (In 1924, “Romola” was made into a silent movie starring Lillian Gish. It doesn’t seem to have made much difference.)

Anthony Trollope, among others, loved “Romola.” He did, however, warn Eliot against aiming over her readers’ heads, which may help explain its obscurity.

All I can say, really, is that it’s a mystery why some great books stay with us and others don’t.

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‘Quiet Dell’ (2013) by Jayne Anne Phillips

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Karl Leitz for Anthony Cotsifas Studio

This was an Oprah Book of the Week, which probably disqualifies it from B-side status, but it’s not nearly as well known as Phillips’s debut story collection, “Black Tickets” (1979), or her most recent novel, “Night Watch” (2023), which won her a long-overdue Pulitzer Prize.

Phillips has no parallel in her use of potent, stylized language to shine a light into the darkest of corners. In “Quiet Dell,” her only true-crime novel, she’s at the height of her powers, which are particularly apparent when she aims her language laser at horrific events that actually occurred. Her gift for transforming skeevy little lives into what I can only call “Blade Runner” mythology is consistently stunning.

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Consider this passage from the opening chapter of “Quiet Dell”:

“Up high the bells are ringing for everyone alive. There are silver and gold and glass bells you can see through, and sleigh bells a hundred years old. My grandmother said there was a whisper for each one dead that year, and a feather drifting for each one waiting to be born.”

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The book is full of language like that — and of complex, often chillingly perverse characters. It’s a dark, underrecognized beauty.

‘Solaris’ (1961) by Stanislaw Lem

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Karl Leitz for Anthony Cotsifas Studio

You could argue that, in America, at least, the Polish writer Stanislaw Lem didn’t produce any A-side novels. You could just as easily argue that that makes all his novels both A-side and B-side.

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It’s science fiction. All right?

I love science and speculative fiction, but I know a lot of literary types who take pride in their utter lack of interest in it. I always urge those people to read “Solaris,” which might change their opinions about a vast number of popular books they dismiss as trivial. As far as I know, no one has yet taken me up on that.

“Solaris” involves the crew of a space station continuing the study of an aquatic planet that has long defied analysis by the astrophysicists of Earth. Part of what sets the book apart from a lot of other science-fiction novels is Lem’s respect for enigma. He doesn’t offer contrived explanations in an attempt to seduce readers into suspending disbelief. The crew members start to experience … manifestations? … drawn from their lives and memories. If the planet has any intentions, however, they remain mysterious. All anyone can tell is that their desires and their fears, some of which are summoned from their subconsciousness, are being received and reflected back to them so vividly that it becomes difficult to tell the real from the projected. “Solaris” has the peculiar distinction of having been made into not one but two bad movies. Read the book instead.

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‘Fox 8’ (2013) by George Saunders

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Karl Leitz for Anthony Cotsifas Studio

If one of the most significant living American writers had become hypervisible with his 2017 novel, “Lincoln in the Bardo,” we’d go back and read his earlier work, wouldn’t we? Yes, and we may very well have already done so with the story collections “Tenth of December” (2013) and “Pastoralia” (2000). But what if we hadn’t yet read Saunders’s 2013 novella, “Fox 8,” about an unusually intelligent fox who, by listening to a family from outside their windows at night, has learned to understand, and write, in fox-English?: “One day, walking neer one of your Yuman houses, smelling all the interest with snout, I herd, from inside, the most amazing sound. Turns out, what that sound is, was: the Yuman voice, making werds. They sounded grate! They sounded like prety music! I listened to those music werds until the sun went down.”

Once Saunders became more visible to more of us, we’d want to read a book that ventures into the consciousness of a different species (novels tend to be about human beings), that maps the differences and the overlaps in human and animal consciousness, explores the effects of language on consciousness and is great fun.

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We’d all have read it by now — right?

‘Between the Acts’ (1941) by Virginia Woolf

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Karl Leitz for Anthony Cotsifas Studio

You could argue that Woolf didn’t have any B-sides, and yet it’s hard to deny that more people have read “Mrs. Dalloway” (1925) and “To the Lighthouse” (1927) than have read “The Voyage Out” (1915) or “Monday or Tuesday” (1921). Those, along with “Orlando” (1928) and “The Waves” (1931), are Woolf’s most prominent novels.

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Four momentous novels is a considerable number for any writer, even a great one. That said, “Between the Acts,” her last novel, really should be considered the fifth of her significant books. The phrase “embarrassment of riches” comes to mind.

Five great novels by the same author is a lot for any reader to take on. Our reading time is finite. We won’t live long enough to read all the important books, no matter how old we get to be. I don’t expect many readers to be as devoted to Woolf as are the cohort of us who consider her to have been some sort of dark saint of literature and will snatch up any relic we can find. Fanatics like me will have read “Between the Acts” as well as “The Voyage Out,” “Monday or Tuesday” and “Flush” (1933), the story of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s cocker spaniel. Speaking for myself, I don’t blame anyone who hasn’t gotten to those.

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I merely want to add “Between the Acts” to the A-side, lest anyone who’s either new to Woolf or a tourist in Woolf-landia fail to rank it along with the other four contenders.

As briefly as possible: It focuses on an annual village pageant that attempts to convey all of English history in a single evening. The pageant itself interweaves subtly, brilliantly, with the lives of the villagers playing the parts.

It’s one of Woolf’s most lusciously lyrical novels. And it’s a crash course, of sorts, in her genius for conjuring worlds in which the molehill matters as much as the mountain, never mind their differences in size.

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It’s also the most accessible of her greatest books. It could work for some as an entry point, in more or less the way William Faulkner’s “As I Lay Dying” (1930) can be the starter book before you go on to “The Sound and the Fury” (1929) or “Absalom, Absalom!” (1936).

As noted, there’s too much for us to read. We do the best we can.

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Culture

6 Poems You Should Know by Heart

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6 Poems You Should Know by Heart

Literature

‘Prayer’ (1985) by Galway Kinnell

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Whatever happens. Whatever
what is is is what
I want. Only that. But that.

Galway Kinnell in 1970. Photo by LaVerne Harrell Clark, © 1970 Arizona Board of Regents. Courtesy of the University of Arizona Poetry Center

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“I typically say Kinnell’s words at the start of my day, as I’m pedaling a traffic-laden path to my office,” says Major Jackson, 57, the author of six books of poetry, including “Razzle Dazzle” (2023). “The poem encourages a calm acceptance of the day’s events but also wants us to embrace the misapprehension and oblivion of life, to avoid probing too deeply for answers to inscrutable questions. I admire what Kinnell does with only 14 words; the repetition of ‘what,’ ‘that’ and ‘is’ would seem to limit the poem’s sentiment but, paradoxically, the poem opens widely to contain all manner of human experience. The three ‘is’es in the middle line give it a symmetry that makes its message feel part of a natural order, and even more convincing. Thanks to the skillful punctuation, pauses and staccato rhythm, a tonal quality of interior reflection emerges. Much like a haiku, it continues after its last words, lingering like the last note played on a piano that slowly fades.”

“Just as I was entering young adulthood, probably slow to claim romantic feelings, a girlfriend copied out a poem by Pablo Neruda and slipped it into an envelope with red lipstick kisses all over it. In turn, I recited this poem. It took me the remainder of that winter to memorize its lines,” says Jackson. “The poem captures the pitch of longing that defines love at its most intense. The speaker in Shakespeare’s most famous sonnet believes the poem creates the beloved, ‘So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, / So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.’ (Sonnet 18). In Rilke’s expressive declarations of yearning, the beloved remains elusive. Wherever the speaker looks or travels, she marks his world by her absence. I find this deeply moving.”

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Lucille Clifton in 1995. Afro American Newspapers/Gado/Getty Images

“Clifton faced many obstacles, including cancer, a kidney transplant and the loss of her husband and two of her children. Through it all, she crafted a long career as a pre-eminent American poet,” says Jackson. “Her poem ‘won’t you celebrate with me’ is a war cry, an invitation to share in her victories against life’s persistent challenges. The poem is meaningful to all who have had to stare down death in a hospital or had to bereave the passing of close relations. But, even for those who have yet to mourn life’s vicissitudes, the poem is instructive in cultivating resilience and a persevering attitude. I keep coming back to the image of the speaker’s hands and the spirit of steadying oneself in the face of unspeakable storms. She asks in a perfectly attuned gorgeously metrical line, ‘what did i see to be except myself?’”

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‘Sonnet 94’ (1609) by William Shakespeare

They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmovèd, cold, and to temptation slow,
They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces
And husband nature’s riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer’s flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die;
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity.
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

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“It’s one of the moments of Western consciousness,” says Frederick Seidel, 90, the author of more than a dozen collections of poetry, including “So What” (2024). “Shakespeare knows and says what he knows.”

“It trombones magnificent, unbearable sorrow,” says Seidel.

“It’s smartass and bitter and bright,” says Seidel.

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These interviews have been edited and condensed.

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