Biography of Eliza Griswold
Eliza Griswold (born February 9, 1973) is an American journalist and poet. She was a fellow at the New America Foundation from 2008 to 2010 and won a 2010 Rome Prize from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. She is a former Nieman Fellow, and has been published in The New Yorker, Harper's Magazine, and the New York Times Magazine.
Eliza Griswold graduated from Princeton University in 1995 and studied creative writing at Johns Hopkins University.She won the first Robert I. Friedman Prize in Investigative Journalism in 2004, for "In the Hiding Zone", about Pakistan's Waziristan Agency. She worked with Pakistani journalist Hayatullah Khan, who acted as her handler.
Griswold has written widely on the "war on terror".
Griswold published "Wideawake Field", a book of poetry, on May 17, 2007. A second book, The Tenth Parallel: Dispatches from the Fault Line Between Christianity and Islam, is a travelogue about the regions of the world along the line of latitude where Christianity and Islam clash. In 2011 Griswold was awarded the J. Anthony Lukas Book Prize for the The Tenth Parallel. She was a 2012 Guggenheim Fellow.
In 2011 in the New York Times Magazine, she published an investigative report, The Fracturing of Pennsylvania, which investigated the environmentally-questionable practices of fracking companies such as Range Resources.
Griswold was a 2014 Ferris Professor at Princeton University and currently teaches at Columbia University.
In 2015, Griswold's translation from the Pashto of I Am the Beggar of the World: Landays from Contemporary Afghanistan won the PEN Award for Poetry in Translation
Eliza Griswold Poems
I woke to a voice within the room. perhaps. The room itself: "You're wasting this life expecting disappointment." I packed my bag in the night
My earliest wish was not to exist, to burst in the backyard without violence, no blood, no fleshy bits,
My transgressions pile against the garden wall (built when Rome began to weaken, scarred by a cannonball.) I gossiped; I snubbed a dinner guest. I watch until the wall writhes
Do I still long for my virginity? — Fragment 107 I never longed for my virginity. I heard it on the radio after the hurricane.
When you said no, I went for your dresser, opened the top drawer, broke the paper seals
A spring day oozes through Trastevere. A nun in turquoise sneakers contemplates the stairs. Ragazzi everywhere, the pus in their pimples pushing up like paperwhites in the midday sun.
Ovid on Climate Change
Bastard, the other boys teased him, till Phaethon unleashed the steeds of Armageddon. He couldn't hold their reins. Driving the sun too close
We meet midway to walk white cobbles under a fish-flesh gray sky. Europe is collapsing; we are collapsing
The naked man in the caravan has peace of mind. He whose covering belongs to others is uncovered.
The pack is filing from my nowheresvilles filling the halfway hotels,
You have a beautiful mouth, Luigi, the man-boy says. The rubber raft
Chicken Little In Love
I'm through! I'm through! she says and resays. The years pass. Her feathers gray.
I woke to a voice within the room. perhaps.
The room itself: "You're wasting this life
I packed my bag in the night
and peered in its leather belly
to count the essentials.
Nothing is essential.
To the east, the flood has begun.
Men call to each other on the water