Thursday, February 18, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Knuckle Tattoos is available now from Erbacce Press for $12 pp.worldwide
For more information, visit /www.erbacce-press.com
Monday, January 18, 2010
reviewed by DEO
Monday, November 16, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Let me start off by saying, that I had heard of Mr. Bush before sitting down to read this morning and as is the case with most authors, small press or otherwise, I was prepared to hate EVERYTHING, I was prepared to savage words with words, but I can’t do that here because Bush’s book is a rare find in the world of publishing, it is actually interesting.
Bush’s words, are they poems or fiction? I couldn’t really tell, but then who cares. Angles of Disorder isn’t a book that exists to offer its readers any answers, but it does leave plenty to think about. I will say this, from the very beginning of this carnival ride, I call it that, because that’s what it feels like, a sense of permanent deja vu sets in and just refuses to leave. Bush’s pieces are more than just fucked up slices of life, or prose paintings turned sideways, they are glimpses into an alternate reality, they are our dreams turned inside out, honest, they exist without an ounce of pretense.
All of this said, the book’s title feels like a soft lie. There is an order to everything in the universe of this book, a carefully crafted sense of memory, with an almost narrative structure. After all, the book’s tales offer images that could happen every day and in fact I’m sure they do.
I know very little, if anything, about the author’s past collections, future aspirations, or how one leads into the other to help form the words in Angles of Disorder. In the end though, none of that matters. The hardest part of having to review this book is that I can’t tell you that you will like it, whether you will think it’s good, bad, or even downright amazing. I can only say that my gut tells me that the writing inside is strong, and I think that’s as much as Zachary C. Bush himself could or would tell you.
Go with your gut. Would I recommend picking a copy? YES. But don’t expect flowers or soccer mom musings strait out of the pages of Ploughshares. Something about this book left me freaked out and hoping that I don’t run into Zachary C. Bush on the street, though maybe I already have, maybe that is the point after all, I’d like to think so.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Opinion: Fine Read
-reviewed by GJ
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
I was trying to seduce you.
This compositional honesty is hinted at throughout the book and draws the reader to the poet. From recently ‘meeting’ Lara I feel as though I could happily spend an hour or two cracking open a bottle of Famous Grouse and talking poetry and life and life and poetry.
I think she has the flu…she has been in the
As the great Puma Perl says in her rear-cover blurb, ‘hot chicks/never die/they watch/and wait’, well, I for one, despite not being a hot chick, will be waiting eagerly to see what Konesky’s next move will be. As a debut collection, this is as strong and as powerful, and as worthy as they come. Highly, highly, recommended. Sylvia would be proud.
-reviewed by AT
Sunday, September 6, 2009
...and I didn't get it. That's because I am a fool who prejudges too easily. Or maybe because I didn't know what a Tanaiste was. I still don't, and I am still a fool. But then I met Jenni for the second time, got so drunk I don't know how I got home, and woke up with the book next to my hotel room bed. I read it beginning to end whilst steaming hung-over, and fell in love.
I think what had me smitten was the indented text on the back of the thick, heavy, rough paper cover. I won't tell you what it says (buy the book and find out for yourself) but I have to say, it is the best back-cover blurb I have ever read. Also, the poems were good, and got better, and better.
Jenni can be a prickly person, I imagine. This comes across in the poems. They are about toughness. About a rough life, growing up in ways most can't imagine and about kicking ass, kicking her way out of what WAS into what she is NOW: a very charming, witty, sly, and most un-urbane person. There's something feral in the writing, a derailing of common verse, a story, after story, after story in layers of personal history and actuality that hurt to read at points. I know I am too soft, but hell, this can get brutal and... I love the book for it.
I'd like to find an appropriate element to compare the poems to, but my lack of knowledge when it comes to the periodic table is lamentable. Imagine something harder than diamonds on the outside with a whisky spiked softness and barbs on the inside. This is how the words come across, a pointed tenderness to their interior with an uncompromisingly stiff lip in their delivery. Nothing is sanguine in this book, nothing trite, just lots of sharp, small bites that, with each read, become more and more comfortable, a pleasurable pain. (now that is trite, but it's my fault, not hers)
It also has to be mentioned, nothing is as nice as holding a hand-made book. How Geraint at Blackheath Books gets the effect he gets (rough brown paper, thick pages, hand-printed type...) is beyond me. The physical presence of the book is lush, forget about the words. But, the words are the point, right?
Few books have guts and even fewer are actually moving. This one is both.
So buy the damn book and find out what the back says, but hurry, it's almost sold-out. That says volumes right there.
Opinion: Excellent Read
-reviewed by GJ
BUY THE BOOK HERE!
Eggs Benedict Washington Square diner, Verte Valee shirts,
I think Andrew is being a bit daring with this book. It is dedicated to a specific man and I think that the poems are relative to that individual. In that sense the entire small collection, approximately 26 pages in all, is homage to a period and a person. Since I don’t know the person or the author’s relationship to that person, I had to take the book at its face value; a snapshot. A view inside of a mind as it recorded vignettes that froze in the author’s passing wake. I think this kind of poetry has a certain value and for British readers will be appealing for its common-experiential nature. For anyone else, it will be a peek at a special, personal world, at twilight.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Opinion: Good Read
156 pp. / $ 16.95