Lee Ann Roripaugh is the author of four volumes of poetry, the most recent of which, Dandarians, was released by Milkweed Editions in September 2014. Her second volume, Year of the Snake (Southern Illinois University Press), was named winner of the Association of Asian American Studies Book Award in Poetry/Prose for 2004, and her first book, Beyond Heart Mountain (Penguin Books), was a 1998 winner of the National Poetry Series. The recipient of a 2003 Archibald Bush Foundation Individual Artist Fellowship, she was also named the 2004 winner of the Prairie Schooner Strousse Award, the 2001 winner of the Frederick Manfred Award for Best Creative Writing awarded by the Western Literature Association, and the 1995 winner of the Randall Jarrell International Poetry Prize. Her short stories have been shortlisted as stories of note in the Pushcart Prize anthologies, and two of her essays have been shortlisted as essays of note for the Best American Essays anthology. Her poetry and short stories have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. Roripaugh is currently a Professor of English at the University of South Dakota, where she serves as Director of Creative Writing and Editor-in-Chief of South Dakota Review. She is also a faculty mentor for the University of Nebraska low-residency M.F.A. in Writing, and served as a 2012 Kundiman faculty mentor alongside Li-Young Lee and Srikanth Reddy.
Having just finished the closing story, “Space” I’m flushed with the image of birds “plunder[ing] moisture from the fruit of the next-door neighbor’s apple trees by piercing their beaks into the apples—like jabbing straws into juice boxes.” This collection makes me feel seen and makes me feel hopeful and envious and proud & that dreadful fomo about my writing life’s potential, and makes me feel! Also made me laugh out loud several times, like in “Space” when you finally dream yourself out of your nightmare with a “lovely stem-green coat with a glamorous fur collar. You stroke the ruff of creamy fur. It’s plush and comforting against your fingertips. ‘I’m a full professor,’ you inform The Beloved’s wife. “I /outrank/ you,’ you say.” Three typos in the book revealed that in previous drafts, second person stories had been third person stories—I loved the shift to second person and I even loved that the typos were kind of revelatory, like mask slippage, so perfect considering the book’s title & orbits.
Some initial thoughts. The title, Reveal Codes, refers to word-processing codes used to format documents but to an accountant reveal codes "unhide" the operation codes in spreadsheet formatting macros that execute functions on a set of data, usually numbers. So the codes operate on the relationships of the numbers by summing, dividing, averaging etc. Numbers are just numbers until they interact.
Reveal codes is also the tension between transparency and obscurity. Codes are used to transmit information to only a select group of people. For example, Code Pink in an Emergency Room setting means a baby is missing which means a specific protocol for hospital personnel to follow until that little sucker is found. Our personal relationships with lovers, family and friends are loaded with codes that only the intended audience understands.