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I’ve always been preternaturally attentive to the way words work—as components of meaning, but also as visual, aural, and functional objects with their own erratic behaviors. Since joining the Oulipo in 2009, I’ve had even more occasion to think and talk about how those behaviors can be pointed in a literary direction, and to recognize successful experiments when I read them.
A bracing slap to the face, this book. Or maybe a punch to the gut. The conceit is the series of portraits of hoarders based on the reality show of the same name, and the recipe is to combine their testimonials—“I save old soda cans and turn the tin snips into flowers,” say, or “I want desperately to change”—with lists of objects, described as though in a slow camera pan across a filthy room. But the alchemy is the way Durbin mashes the two together, not quite at random but not correctlyeither. It’s a harrowing litany of fragments, so specific that the unspoken point is all too clear: what’s broken is much bigger than any of these individual people or things.
A Lit Hub Most Anticipated Book of 2021 An NPR Best Book of 2021 An Electric Literature Best Poetry Book of 2021 A Dennis Cooper Best Book of 2021
In Hoarders, Durbin deftly traces the associations between hoarding and collective US traumas rooted in consumerism and the environment. Each poem is a prismatic portrait of a person and the beloved objects they hoard, from Barbies to snow globes to vintage Las Vegas memorabilia to rotting fruit to plants. Using reality television as a medium, Durbin conjures an uncanny space of attachments that reflects a cultural moment back to the reader…
I’ve always been preternaturally attentive to the way words work—as components of meaning, but also as visual, aural, and functional objects with their own erratic behaviors. Since joining the Oulipo in 2009, I’ve had even more occasion to think and talk about how those behaviors can be pointed in a literary direction, and to recognize successful experiments when I read them.
A full-length rewrite of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself” that preserves only the first and last letter of each line, Shelfis a consummate work of potential literature—from the “why on earth would someone do that” all the way to the “wait, this is actually dope.” Without ever estranging himself from Whitman’s transcendentalist trumpeting, Quintavalle burrows deep into the poem’s form and instills a disenchanted eloquence all his own.
Poetry. In this poem, Rufo Quintavalle has rewritten Walt Whitman's Song of Myself keeping the first and last letter of each line, and replacing the middle. Within this strict constraint, Quintavalle the poet has achieved a remarkable and touching intimacy at a distance with Whitman's inner world.
I’ve always been preternaturally attentive to the way words work—as components of meaning, but also as visual, aural, and functional objects with their own erratic behaviors. Since joining the Oulipo in 2009, I’ve had even more occasion to think and talk about how those behaviors can be pointed in a literary direction, and to recognize successful experiments when I read them.
I truly never thought I’d laugh out loud at an erasure poem. ThenInk Earl came along. Holbrook starts with a hundred copies of the original fifties ad pitch for the Pink Pearl eraser—get it yet?—and hacks away different parts of each, yielding a series of meditations and diatribes and bouts of spirited near-nonsense. The poems are consistently clever delights, and the project’s conceptual wholeness is icing on the cake.
ink earl takes the popular subgenre of erasure poetry to its illogical conclusion.
Starting with ad copy that extols the iconic Pink Pearl eraser, Holbrook erases and erases, revealing more and more. Rubbing out different words from this decidedly non-literary, noncanonical source text, she was left with the promise of "100 essays" and set about to find them. Among her discoveries are queer love poems, art projects, political commentary, lunch, songs, and entire extended families.
The absurdity of the constraint lends itself to plenty of fun and funny, while reminding us of truths…
I’ve always been preternaturally attentive to the way words work—as components of meaning, but also as visual, aural, and functional objects with their own erratic behaviors. Since joining the Oulipo in 2009, I’ve had even more occasion to think and talk about how those behaviors can be pointed in a literary direction, and to recognize successful experiments when I read them.
First published in 1971 and reissued in 2021, EECCHHOOEESS is a gem of visual and/or concrete poetry, a book whose narrative universe is the physical space of the book itself. Pritchard, a member of the radical Umbra collective, is in good company among textual experimentalists like Robert Lax and bpNichol, to name two more or less at random, but among the pileups and run-ons and gibberish, the constellations of words repeated and skipping and laid out backwards, he creates his own elegant vibe, at once frenetic and deeply serene.
An exacting facsimile of Umbra protagonist Norman H. Pritchard’s long-rare 1971 collection of visually kinetic poetry
American poet Norman H. Pritchard’s second and final book, EECCHHOOEESS was originally published in 1971 by New York University Press. Pritchard’s writing is visually and typographically unconventional. His methodical arrangements of letters and words disrupt optical flows and lexical cohesion, modulating the speeds of reading and looking by splitting, spacing and splicing linguistic objects. His manipulation of text and codex resembles that of concrete poetry and conceptual writing, traditions from which literary history has mostly excluded him. Pritchard also worked with sound, and his…
I can’t guess how many great poems I have committed to memory. In waiting rooms, or in the checkout line, I recite them to myself. In this way, poetry helps me not only understand the world we live in, but live in it without going crazy. And while I love all poetry, I’ve always found that poetry in traditional forms—with meter and rhyme—is easier to remember. That’s one reason why I’ve always been drawn to formal verse. In my own poetry, I strive to uphold that tradition, while inventing new forms that spring organically from the subject at hand. I trust these books will demonstrate I’m not alone.
I love the music in these poems! I love the wry wit and unexpected turn of phrase—which may well be Salter’s hallmark. The title is, of course, a vivid example of her playful phrasing.
Salter is a deft formalist, and I am impressed by her effortless handling of some very demanding forms: villanelles, quatrains, sonnets, blank verse, haiku, and ghazals, not to mention various invented rhyme schemes. She is also a master of the slant rhyme, which, for a poet, is akin to the blue note in jazz.
As a parent, I am particularly moved by the poems about her daughters, which are tragically poignant and all too familiar. Salter is a devotee of James Merrill—one of my central poetic influences—and I think she has carried on his tradition more than any other poet I can name.
Mary Jo Salter’s sparkling new collection, Open Shutters, leads us into a world where things are often not what they seem. In the first poem, “Trompe l’Oeil,” the shadow-casting shutters on Genoese houses are made of paint only, an “open lie.” And yet “Who needs to be correct / more often than once a day? / Who needs real shadow more than play?”
Open Shutters also calls to mind the lens of a camera—in the villanelle “School Pictures” or in the stirring sequence “In the Guesthouse,” which, inspired by photographs of a family across three generations, offers at once a…
I have been writing poetry for over 50 years and realized that as soon as I read Milton’s Paradise Lost – which blew my mind and emotions with its power of language – that epic poetry is the highest and greatest form of poetry. Thus, I have been assiduously reading epics ever since! I love them. And I write books on poetry writing (e.g. The Poetry Show: Macmillan, 1987), write on poetry for New York’s The Epoch Times, and am on the Advisory Board of The Society of Classical Poets. My own HellWard demonstrates a lifetime’s distillation about writing epic poetry, and shortly volume 2, StairWell, will be available.
From two great past epic classics, I now move to the contemporary present: Benson Brown’s is a mock epic a la Byron (think, Don Juan). Brilliantly funny, witty, exposing the American War of Independence in ways you have never seen before – a laugh-out-loud poem, and full of rich historical details as well as mythological conceits which makes it a unique reading experience. Weirdly, for all its parody, I probably learnt more about the American War from it than from actual historical texts. The back page blurb says: "Thomas Jefferson is sent to Hell for a mysterious sin." Find out what – get the poem!
A mock-epic poem about the American Revolution featuring supernatural twists, historical icons with extraordinary powers, and action-filled battle scenes.
Thomas Jefferson is sent to Hell, where, guided by Dante, he meets old friends and tries to figure out which among his many mortal sins will determine his final punishment. An ailing, world-weary Mercury passes his herald’s wand to Paul Revere, who saddles up for his midnight ride with the fastest horse on earth. Apollo, handicapped and traumatized by modern warfare, comes out of retirement to fire a shot that sends shock waves around the planet. The minutemen at Lexington and…
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