April
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Margaret Atwood’s Power Politics reads a little bit like a relic of second-wave feminism now, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still valuable. Picture me, my sixteen-year-old high school self. I had floppy hair and wore oversized t-shirts. In my private imagination I was a poet, although I disliked most poetry we were taught in
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Brian Teare’s first collection was recommended to me by one of my MFA teachers who knew him. There are two overwhelming impulses in the way the poems are crafted: sound and form. Brian is a poet who creates forms anew when he writes. He pushes the boundary of form and calls into question whether form
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D. A. Powell recommended this book when Sarah Vap and I interviewed him a few years ago. I had seen it around, you know, but I hadn’t really known what to make of it. I read it–I remember this so clearly–on a flight to my friend Katie’s wedding in Minneapolis. I read it cover to
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I’m pretty sure this book floated into my life when I first arrived at graduate school, recommended reading for the Magical Realism course I took in my first term. I’m sure I didn’t track it down until some time later, but when I did, I was glad to have remembered the recommendation. Raymond Queneau recounts
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When this anthology came out, it caused quite a stir. People expressed appreciation, anger, anxiety, even confusion–and I think this anthology itself caused a lot of other groups, movements, and publications to develop into succinct efforts. Every anthology is a failure–to someone, for some reason. The job of the editor is a difficult and often
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I was encouraged by a friend to seek out this book. It was one of the best pieces of reading advice I’ve been given. I remember poring over this volume when I first got it, enjoying it, and then I hit the central long poem in the book, “From L’Hotel Terminus Notebooks,” and that’s when
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