Bethany is a coauthor of the article “Evaluation of 3D Printing and its Potential Impact on Biotechnology and the Chemical Sciences,” published in Analytical Chemistry in January. Nearing 30 years since its introduction, 3D printing technology is set to revolutionize research and teaching laboratories. The article encompasses the history of 3D printing, reviews various printing methods, and presents current applications. The authors offer an appraisal of the future direction and impact the technology will have on laboratory settings as 3D printers become more accessible. Gross’s research at Michigan State University encompasses the development of a flow-based 3D printed microfluidic device with integrated electrodes to initiate and evaluate injury-induced blood-clot formation.
David read his poetry for the Dickinson Poetry Series last month at Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Door County (Wisconsin). David’s career path has been a spiral. He earned degrees in English (B.A. Kalamazoo College; M.A. University of Michigan) and then taught British and American literature at Drake University for three years. He earned his law degree from the University of Chicago and made a three-decade career change into the practice of law. All the while he continued to write poetry. When he moved to Door County (2001) he started writing more seriously, eventually achieving his goal of writing one poem a day. For the past six years he has taught poetry for the county’s Learning in Retirement Program. He has published two chapbooks: Shedding My Three Piece Birthday Suit and Doggysatva Love and Other Possible Illusions.
Mike recently authored a geology and paleontology guide of southern Colorado. That’s a great story, and Mike tells it best. During the summer of 2015 he did an internship with the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) through the Geological Society of America’s GeoCorps program. “I was based in Canon City, Colorado, near both the Royal Gorge and several dinosaur quarries (so basically paradise),” he wrote. “My mentor had funding to write a book (for the BLM’s “Junior Explorer” series) that detailed the geology and paleontology of southern Colorado. So we teamed up with Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument; they paired me with another intern who had experience as an illustrator; and we went and wrote a book!” The book covers seven sites of historical and/or geologic importance along the Gold Belt National Scenic Byway so that kids on vacation with their parents can go to these sites after or while reading about them. Along the way, the book teaches geologic time, paleontology, how to recognize common types of rock, and how geologists interpret the rock record.
“Writing this thing was a lot of fun. Although there were some general guidelines for the book series that we had to follow, the activities and content were entirely up to us! And of course we had to go to all those places in person so that we’d know exactly what visitors would be able to see, and how each site might fit with our educational goals. The reception for the book has been fantastic as well. Not only were our mentors impressed at how quickly we put together a good product, but everyone outside of our group who has seen it has been impressed. The State Paleontologist for Wyoming (admittedly a friend of mine) told me that he wants his office to put out books like that.”
Mike and his illustrator and field partner (an undergraduate at Northern Arizona University) presented their book at the annual meeting of the Geological Society of America in Baltimore in early December.
At K, Mike majored in biology and studied abroad in Wollongong, Australia. He earned his master’s degree at the University of Wyoming and is currently in a Ph.D. program at the University of Wisconsin (Madison). “Mike is an excellent example of someone who has pursued his passion,” wrote Associate Professor of Biology Ann Fraser. “I first met him when he was a sophomore in 2003, and even back then he was enthralled by paleontology.”
Sarah published her first book of poetry, Field Work, and it won the Cider House Review Editor’s Prize. The book has garnered critical acclaim in several publications, and Sarah has done several appearances for the iconic Los Angeles Beyond Baroque reading series. Her work has also appeared in Agni, The Atlantic, Christian Science Monitor, Cimarron, Crab Orchard Review, Field, The Missouri Review, New Orleans Review, Psychology Today, Scientific American, Southern Review and elsewhere. Sarah has taught poetry and composition at the University of Virginia, James Madison University, Young Writers’ Workshop and Tsurumaru High School in Kagoshima, Japan. She was a creative nonfiction fellow with Think, Write, Publish. She has worked with other writers as well, including New York Times columnist David Brooks (as an early reader for The Social Animal), social scientist Jonathan Haidt and the novelist Jonathan Franzen. “I was born in an unincorporated rural area outside of Peoria, Illinois,” Sarah writes, “and have lived in countries as far afield as Belgium and Japan. This has given me an unusual perspective on the rural/urban experience and the differences between liberals and conservatives–an uncommon vantage point that I bring to bear on my work in both poetry and nonfiction. I’ve enjoyed being able to work on a broad range of projects, and I try to bridge the seemingly disparate worlds of science, parenting and the arts.”
Sam wrote a delightful entry for the real estate blog Movoto titled “30 Things You Need To Know About Kalamazoo Before You Move There.” (K received TWO entries in his post.) At last count, Sam’s entry had garnered nearly 50,000 views.
Danielle is working on her M.F.A. degree in poetry at George Mason University in Washington, D.C. She is the poetry editor of So To Speak literary journal. She recently published a chapbook of contrapuntal poetry, Dialogue with the Dead, through Finishing Line Press. In Spring 2015, she was a visiting writer at K where her chapbook was taught in intermediate and advanced poetry classes. She currently works as a T.A. at George Mason, teaching undergraduate English composition and an Arab-American literature course. Her working-thesis project involves creating conversation among marginalized communities through collaboration and de-centering authorship.
Teju has published a new collection of essays titled Known and Strange Things. The topics are digressive and eclectic, just one element of their individual and intense interest. Teju is the author of two previous works, the novels Every Day is for the Thief and Open City. At K, Teju went by the name of Obayemi Onafuwa. He majored in art and art history. Carolyn Cole of the Los Angeles Times wrote a review of the essay collection that includes a delightful interview with the author, including his final, wonderful and liberal arts-ish quote that ends the piece: “It’s OK not to be the smartest boy in class, because knowing how much you don’t know can then be the starting point for engaging with the world.”
June has published, at age 90, From the Inside: A Look at Nursing Homes and Their Patients in Today’s Elder Care System. The book provides her insider look at the day-to-day happenings of nursing homes both as a resident and a friend to residents. Central to those observations is her unique mix of humor, introspection, and occasional depression as she faced the work of getting well and coping with pain.
During the last decade June spent nine months in three different nursing homes in Montana and the Midwest. “People need to know what it’s like to be in a nursing home,” she said.
Though it occurred decades ago, her father’s nursing home stay in New York remains seared into her memory, and was the impetus for the book. “I was so furious,” she remembers. “It was so negative. To be in a nursing home is to truly be someone different.” But, over the years, she says, she learned that “Nursing homes are NOT the worst thing in the world. I came to scorn and stayed to praise,” she concludes.
June enrolled in Kalamazoo College at the age of 16. She majored in English and theatre. The latter may not be surprising, given the fact that she had been a child performer at the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair. During her student days at K, a weekly campus segment she did on the local radio station eventually became a full-time job with CBS-WKZO in Kalamazoo. She worked on a feature called “News of Women Today,” which carried stories on women’s responses to World War II throughout the world and the effect the war had on women’s status and work.
June and her husband, Wayne, have lived near Whitehall, Montana for 20 years. They spent most of their marriage in East Aurora, N.Y., where Wayne worked for Fisher-Price. June earned her M.A. at Syracuse University and taught there. She also directed plays at both the Buffalo and the East Aurora theaters. And she performed her own material in a series of one-woman shows. She and Wayne eventually moved west to be closer to their two sons and five grandchildren. She helped establish a theatre group in Whitehall. For four years, “Jefferson Valley Presents” staged an outdoor dinner theatre production on the Lewis and Clark expedition. June wrote the script, performed, and helped with the costuming.
Corey is a professor and director of creative writing for the department of English at the University of North Texas. He is a prizewinning author of two volumes of poetry, Renunciation and, more recently, The Radio Tree. Corey is also a poetry editor at the American Literary Review and a judge for the University of North Texas Rilke Prize, which recognizes mid-career poets. An article on Corey that mentions his roots in rural Michigan and at Kalamazoo College appeared in the NTDaily.com.
In Pursuit of Birds: A Foray with Field Glasses and Sketchbook
by Ladislav Hanka ’75
Ladislav Hanka ’75 is no ordinary bird watcher. His ventures through former Soviet military zones in Eastern Europe pursuing birds sometimes led to his arrest. Some of his bird watching tales are sobering, others are hilarious. Those stories, and Lad’s visual art, are collected in his newest book: In Pursuit of Birds: A Foray with Field Glasses and Sketchbook. Lad earned his B.A. at K in biology. He holds a master’s degree in zoology (Colorado State University) and an M.F.A. in printmaking (Western Michigan University). In his new book, Lad has collected nearly 200 drawings and etchings created in 35 years of printmaking. His drawings are based on field studies and on specimens preserved for study in museums. With his own artistic renditions of raptors, warblers, sparrows, nuthatches, juncos, woodpeckers, flickers, owls, vultures and many other birds, Lad shares his love of them in line and in story. In his stories he expresses a respect for the bird as a bird, not as a symbol or metaphor, but for itself. He shares his philosophy of life: to move gently across the earth without disturbing its rhythms but becoming one with those rhythms, including those of birds. During a trip to Tibet, Lad discovered the practice there of “sky-burials.” “This is a way that people in a land that is frozen solid for much of the year and lacking in wood deal with their dead,” he explained. “Corpses that have accumulated through the winter are assembled in spring, when a trained priesthood administers last rights. They flense the cadavers of meat and crush the bones to meal. Vultures, habituated to the practice, home in from miles. The practice, known as jhator, literally means ‘giving alms to the birds.’”
Off the X
by Mark McDonald ’73
Near the climax of Off The X, Mark McDonald’s brutal, bleak yet highly readable book about violence and its costs, Colonel Magazine, the commander of a secret prison (and classified mission) near the present-day Iraqi-Jordanian border delivers to the the main character, Micah Ford, a forceful lecture on justification:
“There’s no why here. This drone stuff is the kind of ethically ambiguous shit that happens on a battlefield. Things go asymmetric and it just happens. We’ve all wrestled with it on this mission. You make policy in black and white, but you fight the battles in gray.”
How much cover should that gray give? is one of the key questions this book raises. Among that gray’s fruits: death, torture and the “this-drone-stuff” secret mission itself. The book, which McDonald, a prize-winning journalist, calls a “meld of fiction an journalism,” introduces those themes early and often. Chapter one opens in Arlington National Cemetery, at the double funeral of Micah’s father and fiancé, casualties of the 9/11 attacks on the Twin Towers. Chapter two reveals the background of his fiancé’s father, who served as an interrogator/torturer in the Shah of Iran’s Savak. Torture, its cover-up and the widening gyre of its degradation are a motif throughout the story. A more minor motif is the business and profit of war. Micah’s father is a former war hero and defense industry contractor.
The “gray” begets a lot of bloodshed and suffering, offered in sometimes excruciating detail. The author and some of his characters are erudite and literate. The journey in this book recalls Dante’s Inferno and Jerzy Kozinki’s The Painted Bird (another blend of fiction and fact, for which it has long been controversial to some). Level seven in Inferno is the circle for the violent:
“’When the violent soul
Uproots itself and leaves a corpse, Minos
Sends it to Level Seven. Protocol
Decrees that it not mitigate its loss
By choosing where if falls into the wood.
It falls where thrown by chance, and then, a grain
Of grief, it sprouts. Then, where a sapling stood,
There’s suddenly a savage tree, whose pain,
When harpies come to eat its leaves, must fine
A vocal outlet. Like the rest, one day
We’ll go to fetch the flesh we left behind,
But it will never clothe us in the way
It did, for Justice would be undermined
If one who robs himself should own once more
The thing he stole. So we will drag them here,
Those bodies, and the thing he was before
On each tree in this wood will hang, so near
Yet so far from its murderous soul.’”
In the end, two of the characters attempt and manage a deception to set at least one thing right, which saves a single life (or a few)—a person perhaps, or even likely, innocent of that for which he was incarcerated but nonetheless irreparably damaged. And even this needfully secret act of conscience comes at great risk to career, and maybe more. It’s a bleak vision, and an important book.
And McDonald writes very well. A description of a military hospital ward:
“Some of the men go on and on about how they got wounded, trying out different versions, getting their delivery down, getting their stories straight for the folks back home. The smaller the wound, the bigger the story. Hurt guys wash in, healed guys wash out, and everybody speaks some version of MIL–military idiot language, not unlike the dopey chatter of a second baseman to his pitcher. MIL-speak adjectives are essentially these: unbelievable, awesome and fuckin’. And then you had your three go-to adverbs: absolutely, totally and fuckin’.
“What did they talk about? Sports, sex, money, music, Obama, vee-hicles, the way things were so political back home, how their entire fucked-up lives were going to be different when they got back. Wives. Old girlfriends. Jobs. Booze. Changing their MOS. Their dicks. (Oh, they talked a lot about their dicks.) How fucked up their officers were. They dreamed up Top 10 lists. They played Who’d You Rather? The usual. It was the American id, unsheathed.”
And one more: an army medical officer recalls a meeting with a soldier whose wounds she’d previously treated:
“’So I ran into him a couple days later at Home Depot,’ she said. ’I needed some paint and I was checking out the color samples. Fan decks, they call them. You know, 10,000 freakin’ colors. Anyway, this guy was in the aisle just staring at this color sample in his hand, staring down at one of those little cards, and he was bawling and starting to hyperventilate. He went to his knees and his whole body was shaking. It was a real panic attack. I reminded him who I was and that he should take really deep breaths and that I would stay with him. He looked right at me–but it was more like he was looking through me–and he said he had killed a kid in Ramadi, shot the kid in the face, and this was the color of the little boy’s brains. That card, he was saying, it was the same color, and it had brought everything right back to him. ’I did terrible things,’ he said. I stayed with him for a couple minutes and he collected himself. I never saw him again. The card said ’Dutch Boy B13-2, Family Tree.’ That was the name of the color. I’ll never forget that. Some wounds, I think, are never going to heal. Maybe some of them aren’t meant to heal.’”
At the end of the book come the “Acknowledgements.” Usually this reader ignores such sections, but in this case, the “Acknowledgements” are worth a careful reading.
The Brothers Vonnegut: Science and Fiction in the House of Magic
by Ginger Strand ’87
Say Vonnegut and most everyone fills in the blank: Kurt. But there was another Vonnegut, and when Bernard built silver-iodide generators and seeded clouds to create rain, he was the brother the government began watching. If the military could control the weather, well, that could be the next super weapon.
In her new book, The Brothers Vonnegut: Science and Fiction in the House of Magic, author Ginger Strand ’87 explores the relationship between the two brothers and how each struggled with matters of morals and ethics involving their work.
Bernard Vonnegut was a leading scientist in a research lab at General Electric in mid-1950’s Schenectady, New York. His younger brother, Kurt, worked in GE’s public relations department, often writing press releases about the scientific discoveries Bernard had made in the lab. When one of Bernard’s discoveries had the potential to change weather, the military took notice. The Army oversaw Bernard’s work, calling it Project Cirrus, and the brothers shared perspectives on science being used to harm rather than benefit humankind. For Kurt, these were the themes that worked their way into his many novels.
“That, for me, was the interesting story that emerged in my research,” Strand says. “During their time working together at GE, they began to exchange ideas and talk about the ethical dilemmas Bernard as a scientist was facing. This was the era after the development of the nuclear bomb. There was a lot of talk about scientists and their responsibility for the use of their inventions.”
When Kurt Vonnegut wrote about what he saw going on at GE, his work was classified as science fiction. Strand says he found that baffling. To his understanding, he was writing social satire.
“During the day, Kurt would write peppy press releases about GE, but at night and on weekends, he would go home and write short stories,” Strand says.
Success, whether wanted or in some respects unwanted, came to Bernard for his work in the laboratory, but for Kurt, in literature, it did not come easily. He collected hundreds of rejection letters. He struggled to learn to write well. He often felt himself in the shadow of his brother’s genius, although neither brother let that get in the way of their close relationship. Eventually, Kurt would produce 14 novels, three short story collections, five plays, five non-fiction books, and become known as a literary icon.
Ginger Strand is the author of three previous books, including Killer on the Road: Violence and the American Interstate. She has written for a wide variety of publications, including Harper’s Magazine, This Land, The Believer, Tin House, The New York Times, and Orion, where she is a contributing editor.
De Zwaan: The True Story of America’s Authentic Dutch Windmill
by Alisa Crawford ’91
Move over, Chaucer! Kalamazoo College has its own “The Miller’s Tale,” that of Alisa Crawford ’91, who recently won the state history award from the Historical Society of Michigan for her book De Zwaan: The True Story of America’s Authentic Dutch Windmill. Alisa is the resident miller at the De Zwaan windmill, which is located in Holland, Michigan. Achieving qualifications for that job was no “run of the mill” effort; nor was piecing together the origins and history of the mill she operates and loves. After many years learning to speak Dutch, study, apprenticeship and testing, Alisa became a Dutch-certified miller. Then after more testing, she was admitted to an elite Dutch guild of professional grain millers. Through that process, she came to know a number of mill historians in The Netherlands. Together they dug through dusty archives there, interviewed people connected to the De Zwaan mill, and crawled through the windmill searching for archaeological clues.
“At the time of its purchase,” notes Alisa, “authorities in The Netherlands thought it had been built in 1761 in the Zaan region in North Holland to make hemp rope, but then clues began trickling in that made that impossible.” Without giving away the end of the book, Alisa says of the mill that now stands on Windmill Island in Holland: “De Zwaan began its career far from North Holland and does not have a ‘purebred pedigree’, as originally presumed.” She indicates that it was assembled from the parts of several mills much later than 1761. However, that lineage, she writes in the book, “is what makes De Zwaan unequivocally authentic. Windmills were and continue to be working machines. When they break, they are repaired. When they become outmoded, they are re-purposed. When the parts wear out, they are replaced.”
Alisa received the award at the State History conference held in Saginaw. In her acceptance speech she noted, “I like to say I’m a miller by trade, an historian by degree, and now an author by award, and I thank the Historical Society of Michigan for that honor.” Her book is available on Windmill Island in Holland, at local retailers and online at In-Depth Editions.
by Andrew Mozina
On a musical instrument, contrary motion refers to a melodic motion in which one series of notes rises in pitch while opposing notes descend. In his debut novel, Contrary Motion, English professor Andy Mozina moves his 38-year-old character, Matthew Grzbc, in opposite directions in most every aspect of his life.
As a harpist living in Chicago, Matthew hopes to land a chair position in a symphony orchestra—but his every day has him playing on demand to dying patients at a hospice and to the sounds of chewing at hotel brunches. As a just-divorced man, he dates a woman with whom he suffers erectile dysfunction—even while he can’t stop lusting for his ex-wife who is about to become engaged to another man. He’s a devoted and attentive father to his six-year-old daughter—but the girl teeters on the verge of a breakdown after witnessing her father “in flagrante delicto” with her mother while Mom’s boyfriend is out of the house. Adding drama, Matthew’s father suffers a fatal heart attack while listening to a relaxing meditation CD—leaving his son questioning his sanity as well as his mortality.
When a longed-for audition for a harpist in the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra opens career possibilities for Matthew (if only his harp would stop buzzing and twanging), he is pulled once again in opposing directions. To audition or not to audition? And, should he be offered the chair, to move or not to move away from his girlfriend, his ex-wife, his daughter, his life in Chicago?
Matthew’s saving grace, the glue to keep his life from splitting down the middle with all that contrary motion, is his sense of humor. It’s hard not to root for the guy between chuckles. He is as perfectly imperfect as are we all on those days when we take an honest look in the mirror. He is riddled with anxiety when most of his fears are never realized. By end of novel, all that anxiety becomes a tad exhausting—get it right, Matt! Do it, dude!—and then he does that, too, hitting the perfect note, humanly well.
Andy Mozina has taught English at Kalamazoo College since 1999. He is the author of the short story collections, The Women Were Leaving the Men, which won the Great Lakes Colleges Association New Writers Award, and Quality Snacks, a finalist for the Flannery O’Connor Prize. His fiction has appeared in numerous magazines, and he has received special citations in Best American Short Stories, Pushcart Prize, and New Stories from the Midwest. Mozina is also the author of a book of literary criticism called Joseph Conrad and the Art of Sacrifice.