Caucasus Journal of Milton Studies

Editor’s Note

Welcome to our first issue of 2025; compiling this issue has been a special adventure. For the first time, we received a barrage of poetry from a person who generated it using artificial intelligence! Some of it was quite lovely, but just on principle, we rejected it for publication. It is still important to us that what we publish is written by a human being. I don’t know, perhaps there may come a time when that principle goes out the window?

For those of us who are more oriented toward English Literature than Linguistics, our first article is a challenge. It was submitted by a newly minted Ph.D. from Nigeria, Halima Samaila Muhammed.  Using the obituary of Robert Mugabe, the former President of the country, she analyses the Logico-Relation of Clause Combination Patterns found in an online newspaper.

Our second article is by Professor Edward Raupp, in which he explores one of John Milton’s early works, Comus, also known as A Masque Presented at Ludlow Castle. It features a Lady of the highest virtue who resists the seductive efforts of the dishonorable Comus. This work surely dispels any idea that Milton was misogynous. We also present the final Book XII of Dr. Raupp’s epic poem, Ares.

Our thanks to Eter Churadze for her Georgian-to-English translation of yet another Georgian author, Niko Lortkipanidze. He lived from 1880 to 1944 and was a prolific writer of plays and short stories (called miniatures), as well as a journalist and publisher. He was known for being an astute, critical realist and a popular voice that mirrored Georgian society’s complexities. Eter has given us the translations of two miniatures.

Our Poetry section is enriched by several submissions from our Nigerian friends. In Spread Across My Lap, Adeniran Abdbasit Adeyemi couches the language of love in evocations of nature. Johanna Ataman returns to our pages with Fingertips, fingertips that trace on a rainy window new art in memory of the old. A young, 16-year-old Abdulrazaq Godwin Omeiza speaks movingly and knowingly of The Weight of Becoming. Maxwell Orah writes with passion and pride in Call Me Black.

Our final poem is by Tedo Sharadenidze. The One He Never Married is a pithy piece of advice, or perhaps an admonition: don’t complain about what might have been!

As always, thanks to our contributors, and we extend our invitation to anyone who may be attacked by the creative impulse: we welcome your submissions.

Warm regards,
Danna Raupp
Editor-In-Chief