Things My Grandmother Said
Poems
Impossible d'ajouter des articles
Désolé, nous ne sommes pas en mesure d'ajouter l'article car votre panier est déjà plein.
Veuillez réessayer plus tard
Veuillez réessayer plus tard
Échec de l’élimination de la liste d'envies.
Veuillez réessayer plus tard
Impossible de suivre le podcast
Impossible de ne plus suivre le podcast
Bénéficiez gratuitement de Standard pendant 30 jours
5,99 €/mois après la période d’essai. Annulation possible à tout moment
Things My Grandmother Said
Lu par :
Amit Majmudar
Acheter pour 10,45 €
-
Lu par :
-
Amit Majmudar
-
De :
-
Amit Majmudar
À propos de ce contenu audio
This marvelous collection opens with the practical wisdom and unforgettable wit of the poet’s grandmother, who said (among other things), “Turmeric can heal anything / but a broken heart” and “Read that to me at / my funeral, boy, right now my show is on.” From the foundation of the matriarchal, Majmudar turns to the impact of women as lovers and partners, exploring the contours of passionate, romantic, and married love; he and his wife are “two fireflies/ scooped out of the same evening” to meet in the jar where their constancy contains and sustains them. In the end, all this love transforms into the gift of language: Majmudar writes of how the Goddess in all her forms has charmed his life, giving rise to the creativity and personhood that allows him to seek and find his mother country in poetry.
A remarkable work from a man celebrating the power of the feminine to shape us and define who we are.
Commentaires
“Things My Grandmother Said is an elaborate altar to those ‘necessary beings / who . . . keep on cradling you, unseen.’ It’s also a set of variations on themes at once domestic and cosmic, as the figures of (grand)mother, memory, language, and poetry merge. The variegated labyrinth through which this remarkable poet leads us is embellished not only by his technical virtuosity but also by his compassion, curiosity, and candor.” —Rachel Hadas, author of Ghost Guest
“A tour de force. . . . Formally dazzling. . . Majmudar pay[s] homage to the women he admires, from his grandmother, mother, wife, and daughter, to Wonder Woman, Hindu goddesses, poet friends, and a nurse in a kill zone. Couplets such as ‘Time is a circle I can put to use: / a wheel to roll things back, a crown, a noose,’ butt up against the sagacity of his grandmother, whose old-country pronouncements are a highlight: ‘Sure, the Ganga is holy, / but who told you to drink from it?’” —Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Majmudar celebrates the eternal feminine in this collection of sharp-witted and playfully humorous poems dedicated to his mother, sister, wife, and daughter. Majmudar invokes his grandmother through a series of amusing quips (‘India invented recycling, we called it karma, / but trash now is trash later’), refreshing conversions of familiar words into surprising verbs (‘Mother us our terror. Enwoman us our wonder’), and profound reflections on inevitable loss and eventual death (‘ring finger withered in the ring— / so soon to grow, too soon to grieve’).” —Diego Báez, Booklist
“A tour de force. . . . Formally dazzling. . . Majmudar pay[s] homage to the women he admires, from his grandmother, mother, wife, and daughter, to Wonder Woman, Hindu goddesses, poet friends, and a nurse in a kill zone. Couplets such as ‘Time is a circle I can put to use: / a wheel to roll things back, a crown, a noose,’ butt up against the sagacity of his grandmother, whose old-country pronouncements are a highlight: ‘Sure, the Ganga is holy, / but who told you to drink from it?’” —Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Majmudar celebrates the eternal feminine in this collection of sharp-witted and playfully humorous poems dedicated to his mother, sister, wife, and daughter. Majmudar invokes his grandmother through a series of amusing quips (‘India invented recycling, we called it karma, / but trash now is trash later’), refreshing conversions of familiar words into surprising verbs (‘Mother us our terror. Enwoman us our wonder’), and profound reflections on inevitable loss and eventual death (‘ring finger withered in the ring— / so soon to grow, too soon to grieve’).” —Diego Báez, Booklist
Aucun commentaire pour le moment