Devonte Travels the Sorry Route – T.J. Anderson III
Poetry starves without the sharing of ideas and drafts, books and meals, misery and laughter.
There is motive to this movement, if difficult female narrators can be called a movement.
The Next Loves – Stéphane Bouquet
It’s not fair to call the poems in THE NEXT LOVES sex positive, because it’s more complicated than that. They’re sex inhabited.
The Memory Police – Yoko Ogawa
That there should be such ambiguity between perpetrator and victim is, it seems, part of the tragedy of totalitarianism: one can fully escape neither victimhood nor complicity.
My Seditious Heart – Arundhati Roy
[Arundhati Roy] sees her political writing as an extension of her literary work and her identity as a writer — there is no “activist” in her separate from her writer self — which is perhaps also a comment on the false limits we tend to put on fiction.
Until Stones Become Lighter Than Water – António Lobo Antunes
This new book demonstrates Lobo Antunes’ trajectory as a novelist, which could be described as a gradual broadening of scope, an attempt to incorporate more and more diverse voices into his fictions.
The Book of X – Sarah Rose Etter
Etter’s novel is about embodiment, yes, but it is also about mood, about a very specific kind of aloneness. Call it alienation. Call it the surreality of being some body that story cannot capture fully.
Days by Moonlight – André Alexis
There is humble humanity in the basic understanding that whatever humans do will trigger an “avalanche of meaning,” and that the task of being human might be to recognize and consider as many of the nuances and reasons as one can.
The Large Door – Jonathan Gibbs
It probably says something about the contemporary cultural moment that Jonathan Gibbs’ sanguine and emotionally generous rendering of workplace sexual frisson feels just as ever-so-slightly anachronistic as the midcentury elegance of his prose style
Grenade in Mouth: Some Poems of Miyó Vestrini – Miyó Vestrini
Poems are too little, too. That’s why we need grenades, it would seem.