Skeletons
Autor Deborah Landauen Limba Engleză Paperback – 6 iun 2024
BBC POETRY EXTRA 'Book of the Month'
'Landau's stunning collection Skeletons opens: "So whatever's the opposite of a Buddhist that's what I am", and these are poems wonderfully full of attachments, in love with love, friends, sex, flavours and vistas and language, because "isolation it burns". Behind it is all is rage against "death, incessant klepto", but Landau is a first-rate phrasemaker and gets down in words "life, the full force of it / pressing us together good and hard."' Nick Laird
'Whether humour or misery or pleasure is explored, the collection reminds us that "these bones were made for us". A deeply contemporary and human book from a poet asking if we are "done with life", because she is "still so into it", and it shows' Oluwaseun Olayiwola, Guardian
'Deborah Landau's real and impressive accomplishment in Skeletons is her fashioning of a cleverly structured cumulative experience . . . A convincing expression of the knotty, touching truth of our humanness and its beautiful, short span: the "precarious yet exquisite alive"' Kathryn Gray, TLS
'Landau's killer wit evokes Dorothy Parker crossed with Sylvia Plath - leaping spark after spark, growing to deadly dark fire' Los Angeles Times
'Deborah Landau has developed a style of writing poetry that reminds me of Maggie Nelson and Anne Carson, these long poems that feel dreamy because they are so lyrical' Boston Globe
Existentialism takes on a glamorous flair in Deborah Landau's dazzling new collection. Through a series of poems preoccupied with loneliness and mortality, Skeletons flashes with prismatic effect across the persistent allure of the flesh.
Initiated during Brooklyn's early lockdown, the book reflects the increasingly troubling simultaneity of Eros and Thanatos, and the discontents of our virtual lives amidst the threats of a pandemic and corrosive politics. Spring blooms relentlessly while the ambulances siren by. Against the mounting pressure that propels the acrostic 'Skeletons', a series of interstitial companion poems titled 'Flesh' negotiate intimacy and desire.
The collection culminates in an ecstatic sequence celebrating the love and connection that persist despite our fraught present moment. Shrugging off her own anxiety and disillusionment with characteristic humour and pitch-perfect cadence, Landau finds levity in pyrotechnic lines, sonic play, and a wholly original language, asking: 'Any way outta this bag of bones?'
| Toate formatele și edițiile | Preț | Express |
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| Little Brown – 6 iun 2024 | 51.95 lei 3-5 săpt. | +26.56 lei 7-13 zile |
| Copper Canyon Press – 4 apr 2023 | 87.97 lei 3-5 săpt. |
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9781472158994
ISBN-10: 1472158997
Pagini: 96
Ilustrații: n/a
Dimensiuni: 126 x 196 x 18 mm
Greutate: 0.1 kg
Editura: Little Brown
Colecția Corsair
Locul publicării:London, United Kingdom
ISBN-10: 1472158997
Pagini: 96
Ilustrații: n/a
Dimensiuni: 126 x 196 x 18 mm
Greutate: 0.1 kg
Editura: Little Brown
Colecția Corsair
Locul publicării:London, United Kingdom
Recenzii
Landau's earthy, angsty poems - about sex and mortality and cosmic despair - are insistently quotable, and more fun than they have any right to be. One opens with a line Emily Dickinson might have written, had she been on Twitter: "Sorry not sorry, said death"
Landau's stunning collection Skeletons opens: "So whatever's the opposite of a Buddhist that's what I am", and these are poems wonderfully full of attachments, in love with love, friends, sex, flavours and vistas and language, because "isolation it burns". Behind it is all is rage against "death, incessant klepto", but Landau is a first-rate phrasemaker and gets down in words "life, the full force of it / pressing us together good and hard."
A deeply contemporary and human book from a poet asking if we are "done with life", because she is "still so into it", and it shows
In her shining fifth collection, Landau chooses the somewhat unexpected acrostic form as a container for her punchy riffs on modern life . . . A resonant commentary on loneliness and mortality
An unnerving, strangely erotic reminder of what the pandemic felt like . . . a perfect reflection of those months of enforced intimacy amid the threat of death
By turns melancholy and exuberant, but always fuelled by formal and sonic play, this collection - structured around a sequence of "Skeleton" acrostics, punctuated by a series of "Flesh" interludes - measures the fact of mortality against the pleasures and possibilities of being alive
'Deborah Landau's poems make me feel alive. They are the city, the body, the evening drink transformed into pure essence. If you want to be returned to your senses and remember the pleasures of the world, this book is for you' Alex Dimitrov
'Landau's earthy, angsty poems - about sex and mortality and cosmic despair - are insistently quotable, and more fun than they have any right to be. One opens with a line Emily Dickinson might have written, had she been on Twitter: "Sorry not sorry, said death' New York Times Book Review
'By turns melancholy and exuberant, but always fuelled by formal and sonic play, this collection - structured around a sequence of "Skeleton" acrostics, punctuated by a series of "Flesh" interludes - measures the fact of mortality against the pleasures and possibilities of being alive' New Yorker (Best Books of 2023)
'In her shining fifth collection, Landau chooses the somewhat unexpected acrostic form as a container for her punchy riffs on modern life . . . A resonant commentary on loneliness and mortality' Publisher's Weekly (Starred Review)
'An unnerving, strangely erotic reminder of what the pandemic felt like . . . a perfect reflection of those months of enforced intimacy amid the threat of death' Washington Post
Landau's stunning collection Skeletons opens: "So whatever's the opposite of a Buddhist that's what I am", and these are poems wonderfully full of attachments, in love with love, friends, sex, flavours and vistas and language, because "isolation it burns". Behind it is all is rage against "death, incessant klepto", but Landau is a first-rate phrasemaker and gets down in words "life, the full force of it / pressing us together good and hard."
A deeply contemporary and human book from a poet asking if we are "done with life", because she is "still so into it", and it shows
In her shining fifth collection, Landau chooses the somewhat unexpected acrostic form as a container for her punchy riffs on modern life . . . A resonant commentary on loneliness and mortality
An unnerving, strangely erotic reminder of what the pandemic felt like . . . a perfect reflection of those months of enforced intimacy amid the threat of death
By turns melancholy and exuberant, but always fuelled by formal and sonic play, this collection - structured around a sequence of "Skeleton" acrostics, punctuated by a series of "Flesh" interludes - measures the fact of mortality against the pleasures and possibilities of being alive
'Deborah Landau's poems make me feel alive. They are the city, the body, the evening drink transformed into pure essence. If you want to be returned to your senses and remember the pleasures of the world, this book is for you' Alex Dimitrov
'Landau's earthy, angsty poems - about sex and mortality and cosmic despair - are insistently quotable, and more fun than they have any right to be. One opens with a line Emily Dickinson might have written, had she been on Twitter: "Sorry not sorry, said death' New York Times Book Review
'By turns melancholy and exuberant, but always fuelled by formal and sonic play, this collection - structured around a sequence of "Skeleton" acrostics, punctuated by a series of "Flesh" interludes - measures the fact of mortality against the pleasures and possibilities of being alive' New Yorker (Best Books of 2023)
'In her shining fifth collection, Landau chooses the somewhat unexpected acrostic form as a container for her punchy riffs on modern life . . . A resonant commentary on loneliness and mortality' Publisher's Weekly (Starred Review)
'An unnerving, strangely erotic reminder of what the pandemic felt like . . . a perfect reflection of those months of enforced intimacy amid the threat of death' Washington Post