A question that is almost always difficult to answer — and in many ways, I think it should be, that something is wrong if it isn’t — is:
What do you write about?
I write about feelings.
I write about birds.
I write about feelings and birds.
I write about bird feelings.
I write about new things and old things.
I think these could all be true.
Another thing I realised is that many poets — most — have poet mentors.
I haven’t had one yet. I’ve had people help me and give me lots of good advice. I wonder if it releases you somehow, lets you submit your education to someone else.
The following is a very, very long list of books recently purchased. It’s very, very long partly because the last time I did a recap was early January, partly because I had to buy a lot of course books and partly because I have been buying a lot of good books.
This is signed as of yesterday, along with my copy of the first four books. Jealous?
What if I told you I also spent half an hour talking one-on-one with her about my poems?
I haven’t read this yet, but will soon. And see her read.
Also signed. She’s a lovely woman and this is a lovely book. Highly recommended.
(The other cover is better, though.)
I reviewed this here.
I haven’t read this one yet, but I expect it will be great.
Excited for this.
We read this in the translation seminar-cum-workshop I’m taking this semester. I haven’t quite figured out how to list this book. The cover and all the introductory material suggest very much that this is an Anne Carson book — Anne Carson writing Sappho. And in many ways that’s precisely what it is. But for those who are confused, this is a collection of Anne Carson’s translations of Sappho’s fragments. They are astonishingly beautiful; easily the best Sappho I have read. The notes are wonderful too, which is not something one generally says of notes in poetry books.
I bought this book by accident. I saw it on Amazon and thought it was nonfiction. I read the description a little, but obviously not well enough. The cover called to me. So I bought it and then when I got it and opened it I saw it was poems. I was surprised (not disappointed). I’m pretty excited about this now, actually. I don’t know anything about Šteger, who is a Slovenian poet, or about the translator Brian Henry, but I think it will be an interesting project reviewing the book. Besides, I love things.
Haven’t read yet, but will in the coming week. A good cover, don’t you think?
This cover is simply stunning (and I get the feeling the book is too). I bought it on a high yesterday morning. I had a meeting with Louise Glück and it was wonderful (despite her absolute franchise) and I wanted to buy more of her books. So I almost ran to the nearest bookstore. Unfortunately they only had A Village Life, which I already had. They’re very different writers, but I have a feeling I will adore this book. It feels great in my hands. It’s wider than most books, and warmer.
It was time.
I bought this for a class on dada and surrealism. I would never have bought it otherwise. I read the first manifesto and Soluble Fish. I doubt I’ll read anything more. I’ll probably sell it back. Vile stuff.
A strange mix of textbook and coffee table book. I prefer it to the actual surrealist manifestoes and texts; it’s interesting and has a lot of nice pictures. I’ll probably be done with it by the end of the semester.
Another textbook, and rather expensive. It is, however, very comprehensive and fairly interesting. I can’t imagine reading it cover to cover though. I like the typeface. Might sell it back.
I wrote about this here. I got it for the translation class and it, shall we say, yields.
I adore David Lebovitz. He has wonderful recipes and anecdotes. You can’t go wrong following his instructions. My favourite cake in the whole world is the almond cake you’ll find on his blog. Anyway, he tweeted that the paperback version of this book was selling for pretty cheap on Amazon, so I bought it. Can’t wait to try the chocolate macarons.
This one has been disappointing. I bought it for something like 8 USD (tax included) at a used bookstore, which, considering the book is hardback, very thick, and beautifully illustrated, seems like a steal. But the recipes aren’t very useful. Part of the reason seems to be how outdated the book is in terms of knowing what equipment and ingredients are available today (some people don’t even know what lard is). I tried the oatmeal cookie recipe. It seemed a little off, but I thought maybe it was just a quaint way of making cookies. They were terrible. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me. I have that much confidence in my cooking abilities.
If, by the way, you need an excellent oatmeal cookie recipe, ask David Lebovitz.
Another book I wouldn’t have bought/read if it weren’t for the dada/surrealism class.
And another. Although this one looks pretty interesting. Great cover.
And another. The best thing about this one is the cover and even that isn’t so great. (Yes, I read it. All of it.)
And another. I haven’t read it yet, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t deserve such a nice cover.
Bought this morning. I love the New York Review Books catalogue. They publish such wonderful authors in excellent translations. They truly are committed to publishing exciting, little known work. This is the third time I’ve picked a book from their series without knowing I wanted it or even knowing the writer much at all. This is a translation from the French of Jules Renard‘s 1894 collection Histoires Naturelles with illustrations by Pierre Bonnard. I can’t wait to read it.
Bought this for 25 cents at the public library (10 cents more than its original price).
Well, that’s all for now. Not too obscene, is it?