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Parallel Press Chapbook Series
Rendered Into Paradise
Chapbook
First published January 1, 2002
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February 7, 2009
Jean Feraca, Rendered into Paradise (Parallel, 2002)
Jean Feraca's work is never less than a pleasure to read. There hasn't been a great deal of it over the years, and most of it has been remarkably hard to find, as a rule. The University of Wisconsin, however, has put almost all of its Parallel Press publications online in its digital library, and this includes Feraca's chapbook Rendered into Paradise, which I hadn't previously been able to find. I was quite thrilled when I found out, and immediately sat down to read this one. It's as good as I expected it to be.
“The tomato thumps in the pot, bronzing
carrots plundered from a monastery plot.
I slice a Hungraian pepper into the caramel.
Then I remember the woody taste of roasted
sweet potato left from last night's supper
and melt in a medallion or two. The mashy
pulp thickens. I have my palette—
copper, cinnamon, saffron, and a twist of the
wicked red licorice stick, Corno de Toro.
Now I am committed.”
(“The Dinner of Everything Gold”)
One wonders why there isn't more food-porn poetry. There really ought to be.
If you're not yet familiar with Feraca's work, this is a great way to get acquainted without having to shell out the admittedly large (given the number of pages in the average volume of poetry) price one normally finds on a book of poems. I'm certain that once you've gotten a taste of Jean Feraca's work, you'll go hunting down the rest. ****
Jean Feraca's work is never less than a pleasure to read. There hasn't been a great deal of it over the years, and most of it has been remarkably hard to find, as a rule. The University of Wisconsin, however, has put almost all of its Parallel Press publications online in its digital library, and this includes Feraca's chapbook Rendered into Paradise, which I hadn't previously been able to find. I was quite thrilled when I found out, and immediately sat down to read this one. It's as good as I expected it to be.
“The tomato thumps in the pot, bronzing
carrots plundered from a monastery plot.
I slice a Hungraian pepper into the caramel.
Then I remember the woody taste of roasted
sweet potato left from last night's supper
and melt in a medallion or two. The mashy
pulp thickens. I have my palette—
copper, cinnamon, saffron, and a twist of the
wicked red licorice stick, Corno de Toro.
Now I am committed.”
(“The Dinner of Everything Gold”)
One wonders why there isn't more food-porn poetry. There really ought to be.
If you're not yet familiar with Feraca's work, this is a great way to get acquainted without having to shell out the admittedly large (given the number of pages in the average volume of poetry) price one normally finds on a book of poems. I'm certain that once you've gotten a taste of Jean Feraca's work, you'll go hunting down the rest. ****
Displaying 1 of 1 review