Nazifa Islam

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in The United States
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Influences
Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, L.M. Montgomery

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April 2011

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Nazifa Islam grew up in Novi, Michigan. She left the Mitten in 2012 to attend Oregon State University where she graduated with her MFA in poetry. She has poems and paintings in publications including Beloit Poetry Journal, Gulf Coast, Boston Review, Bennington Review, Blue Mesa Review, and Entropy; and her poetry collection Searching for a Pulse was published by Whitepoint Press. You can find her in Corvallis, Oregon irrationally wishing for snow no matter the month or season.

Poems in Random Sample Review

So I somehow did not get around to writing about the two poems—"Frozen" and "Marred"—I had published in Random Sample Review back in August. I was really excited to have poems in a journal with so many Oregon State MFA Program graduates at the helm. I wrote both of these poems back when I was in grad school actually, so it felt all the more fitting that they... Read more of this blog post »
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Published on September 28, 2019 22:20
Average rating: 4.27 · 22 ratings · 6 reviews · 2 distinct works
Searching for a Pulse

4.27 avg rating — 22 ratings — published 2013 — 3 editions
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Liminal Stories Issue 1

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0.00 avg rating — 0 ratings — published 2016
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Moby-Dick, or, the Whale by Herman Melville
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Furiously Happy by Jenny  Lawson
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Playback by Raymond Chandler
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The Winter of the Witch by Katherine Arden
The Winter of the Witch (Winternight Trilogy, #3)
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On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong
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Visitation by Jenny Erpenbeck
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O Pioneers! by Willa Cather
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Dear Girls by Ali Wong
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In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts by Dr. Gabor Maté
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More of Nazifa's books…
L.M. Montgomery
“In imagination she sailed over storied seas that wash the distant shining shores of "faëry lands forlorn," where lost Atlantis and Elysium lie, with the evening star for pilot, to the land of Heart's Desire. And she was richer in those dreams than in realities; for things seen pass away, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”
L.M. Montgomery, Anne of the Island

L.M. Montgomery
“I'm just tired of everything…even of the echoes. There is nothing in my life but echoes…echoes of lost hopes and dreams and joys. They're beautiful and mocking.”
L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea

L.M. Montgomery
“There is such a place as fairyland - but only children can find the way to it. And they do not know that it is fairyland until they have grown so old that they forget the way. One bitter day, when they seek it and cannot find it, they realize what they have lost; and that is the tragedy of life. On that day the gates of Eden are shut behind them and the age of gold is over. Henceforth they must dwell in the common light of common day. Only a few, who remain children at heart, can ever find that fair, lost path again; and blessed are they above mortals. They, and only they, can bring us tidings from that dear country where we once sojourned and from which we must evermore be exiles. The world calls them its singers and poets and artists and story-tellers; but they are just people who have never forgotten the way to fairyland.”
L.M. Montgomery, The Story Girl

Virginia Woolf
“Lord, how unutterably disgusting life is! What dirty tricks it plays us, one moment free; the next, this. Here we are among the breadcrumbs and the stained napkins again. That knife is already congealing with grease. Disorder, sordidity and corruption surrounds us. We have been taking into our mouths the bodies of dead birds. It is with these greasy crumbs, slobbering over napkins, and little corpses that we have to build. Always it begins again; always there is the enemy; eyes meeting ours; fingers twitching ours; the effort waiting. Call the waiter. Pay the bill. We must pull ourselves up out of the chairs. We must find our coats. We must go. Must, must, must — detestable word. Once more, I who had thought myself immune, who had said, "Now I am rid of all that", find that the wave has tumbled me over, head over heels, scattering my possessions, leaving me to collect, to assemble, to head together, to summon my forces, rise and confront the enemy.”
Virginia Woolf, The Waves

Virginia Woolf
“This self now as I leant over the gate looking down over fields rolling in waves of colour beneath me made no answer. He threw up no opposition. He attempted no phrase. His fist did not form. I waited. I listened. Nothing came, nothing. I cried then with a sudden conviction of complete desertion. Now there is nothing. No fin breaks the waste of this immeasurable sea. Life has destroyed me. No echo comes when I speak, no varied words. This is more truly death than the death of friends, than the death of youth.”
Virginia Woolf, The Waves




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Nazifa Islam David wrote: "Thanks for reminding me that in all this time I've forgotten to add the Redwall books on here... *fail*"

Haha, you are very welcome. :)


message 1: by David

David Bulgarelli Thanks for reminding me that in all this time I've forgotten to add the Redwall books on here... *fail*


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