A genre-bending collection of prose poems from Pulitzer Prize–winner Franz Wright brings us surreal tales of childhood, adolescence, and adul...
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Nov 29, 2011
Ryan
rated it: 
"If he could only overcome the fear, like a deafening dial tone in his right ear where he lies alone dressed in night listening, listening." from the poem "Mrs. Alone"
Having loved the often spare nature of Wright's poems over the years, I was intrigued by this new collection of prose poems, many of them considerable in length. I was afraid perhaps of there being too much, of what exactly I'd be hard-pressed to articulate. There is quite a lot here, but not one wor More...
Having loved the often spare nature of Wright's poems over the years, I was intrigued by this new collection of prose poems, many of them considerable in length. I was afraid perhaps of there being too much, of what exactly I'd be hard-pressed to articulate. There is quite a lot here, but not one wor More...
Oct 31, 2011
Richard
rated it: 
I will admit that I had to gulp down a flip-page mentality and start over, for I initially got lured into a bit of a quickened pace when I started these prose pieces and didn't give them the kind of breath I would have given to something with a less justified right margin. But once I gave Wright the proper focus, he paid me back for my efforts. Suffice to say that Wright is probably one of the most raw purveyors of emotion writing today. While Stephen Dobyns has criticized a lot of contempora
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Sep 23, 2011
Michael
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I didn’t get a sense of Wright the word-charger, Wright the performer, Wright the deliberate wielder. I first went looking for techniques, and was let down (I’m sure I could have looked harder). When I say “let down,” I mean lowered, dropped off, “as into an abyss.” While listening to Rückert and Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder. In a dark forest. Late at night. With no maps. This poetry is the stuff of death, bad dreams, youth curdling with macabre adjectives – or all three together. This book would
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Aug 28, 2011
Larry
rated it: 
This is a striking collection of prose poems in one form or another, loose but rightly done pieces. Though some read more like prose, others really sing with rhythmic wording and subconscious suggestion. They are deeply encoded and often brutally personal as the author struggles with his sense of self as person and poet, and we search for meaning and form here. If you're fond of the prose poem or of Franz Wright's work...it's a good book.
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