She noticed (...)
She noticed the collective orange, and how to stay together.
Language: English
She noticed the collective orange, and how to stay together.
Language: English
The Activist begins in the middle of a revolution. There is a protesting group of commuters with a missing leader. There is a bridge that may or may not have been bombed. People speak in nonsense and cannot stop themselves. In the midst of all this, the language of news reporters mixes with the language of confession. The art of this beautifully written book is in how it touchingly illustrates that relations between humans and cities are linked in a more complex interface than most realize. The book is full of entrances and exist, alternate routes and incommensurate geographies. The Activist does not analyze or explain the hopeful desires of protest at the turn of the century, but it does enable us to see them differently. — Juliana Spahr
"Whether this is a dream in which I'm captured or I've been captured and made to think I'm in a dream, I can't figure." Apropos to the rapturous tension The Activist evokes. A covert narrative operating as an event disguised as a repot. A grass trap glimpsed through the lashes of a sleepwalker. Topography of disrupted positionality, reflection girders flaccid memory against the romantic high up. Flea-bitten news and neuralgic placards. You are here**. Is dreaming the medium for crossing the ambiguous borders of talk, responsibility, collectivity, solitude? Or does reading anatomize a phantom bridge that carries you over to an unmappable reality and calls you by your secret name? Root, plan and faction, armed with tongue-tied intensity. You may ask how Renee Gladman knows that this city of slippage is your city, how she holds you within it, riveted. And therein lies the magic of this book. — Tisa Bryant
University of California Press
The Totality for Kids is the second collection of poems by Joshua Clover. This volume takes as its subject the troubled sleep of late modernity, from the grandeur and failure of megacities to the retreats and displacements of the suburbs. The power of crowds and architecture commingles with the alienation and idleness of the observer, caught between “the brutal red dream/Of the collective” and “the parade/Of the ideal citizen.” The book’s action takes place in these gaps, “dead spaces beside the endlessly grieving stream.” The frozen tableau of the spectacle meets its double in the sense that something is always about to happen. Political furies and erotic imaginings coalesce and escape within a welter of unmoored allusions, encounters, citations, and histories, the dreams possible within the modern’s excess of signification—as if to return revolutionary possibility to the regime of information by singing it its own song.
The Consequences is a hybrid collection of prose and poetry; an autofictional examination of the pain of a transatlantic relocation from New York to the blanketing beige of Paris to rejoin a totemic muse. It also focuses on corgi attacks, Maryland, painful anxiety, the struggle to accept the things one cannot change, the third party and the past as adamantine shackles. The "towering sexual iconography of Mike Immerman" looms over the disorientation of a reluctant resident in “the City of Light.”
Teline Trần's Ad Học traverses the improvisational structures that shape social life in order to reflect their valences as both insufficient and abundant. In their first poetry chapbook, Trần locates those junctures with bittersweet pleasure and biting critique and asks how to sustain both at once. This is, Trần shows us, the work of living, against and within the ongoing attrition and amnesia at scales historical and governmental, interpersonal, familial, and social. Ad Học asks the reader to turn inwards, towards a personal politic, to self-revolution, in order to seek horizons dreamier, queerer, and hopefully insurgent.
Teline Trần is a writer from Orange, California or Gabrieleño/Tongva land. They write about home and interstitial faith via several mediums such as fiction, poetry, film, and ultimately, the browser. Teline works as the Membership and Community Engagement Coordinator at Wendy’s Subway, where they were a Fellow in 2020. They also work as the Development Coordinator at Mekong NYC, a Southeast Asian grassroots organization in the Bronx. They hold a degree in Comparative Literature from Reed College.
James Goodwin’s Faux Ice contains six poems: ‘Roman Street Sweeper’, ‘Technomarine’, ‘Meridian Walk’, ‘Astroturf’, ‘Star Bright Ice’, and ‘Faux Ice, or The Same as Fantasy?’ Goodwin writes:
“A constrained economy of expression is the formative approach I’ve taken with these poems. I was motivated, in my early attempts, to reproduce, as a crystallised element of black lyric expressivity, the condensed form of the grime lyric, and its invocations of blackness as a poetic description of being immersed in and by indistinction. Or aspects of the black life of poetry which do not derive their origins, causes, or relations from communicative modes of clarification in language. And so the poems in Faux Ice are oblique expressions and articulations of the ways reality is refracted by [the] questions of what is real, informing, say, the experience of seeing without being seen on the one hand and having no others on the other.”
Inheriting from eskibeat and drill and from other sources of experimental Black sociopoetics, these poems, with their dispersed and insistently plural voices, aren’t interested in building up, but in dismantling a stable subject, their icy conditions always displaced and subject to change.
“shot of this glean of jewel with the
force of a technomarine to
connect the more looks around the
pressure-encrusted, iced out skip and
lack of any protection”
JAMES GOODWIN is the author of Fleshed out For All the Corners of the Slip (the87press, 2021), and Aspects Caught in The Headspace We’re In: Composition for Friends (Face Press, 2020). He is currently completing a PhD at Birkbeck College, University of London.