This Is Not a Skyscraper
Autor Dean Kostosen Limba Engleză Paperback – 8 apr 2015
This Is Not a Skyscraper examines New York City through a surrealist lens. Like the title of Magritte’s painting, “This is not a pipe,” these poems question perceptions of the metropolis. While NYC entices talents that swarm its stages, museums, runways, and readings, throngs of outsiders live on the city’s margins, silenced. Among the grotesqueries of corruption, an African immigrant is killed by police in a case of mistaken identity. His disembodied voice introduces the book. Many of these poems attempt to speak for the “others” existing on the peripheral, whose perspectives have been abandoned.
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9781597094160
ISBN-10: 1597094161
Pagini: 144
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 15 mm
Greutate: 0.18 kg
Ediția:1
Editura: Red Hen Press
Colecția Red Hen Press
ISBN-10: 1597094161
Pagini: 144
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 15 mm
Greutate: 0.18 kg
Ediția:1
Editura: Red Hen Press
Colecția Red Hen Press
Recenzii
“Do you ever ask why, after a fresh hair cut, your stylist can’t wait to show you the back of your head? Dean Kostos, in his pithy fifth collection, This Is Not a Skyscraper, will likewise twist you in your chair. He lures readers into his hand-held mirror (aka looking glass), like a practiced stylist, meticulously exposing what we might have otherwise missed. An itinerate storyteller, his orbit is the city of New York: her museums, her parks, her Coney Island sideshows. He finds metaphor and refuge in tropes like the cape as a cover up, unveiling a fantasy of a man disrobed by a barber, then as a mother snaps on ‘a cape to reveal a rabbit,’ and again, in an early lover, ‘his arms a cape / around me.’ Villon, Gorky, Christo—Kostos enlists an army of artists to deploy his sinewy ideas. The title of this gathering of sixty-two poems alludes to Magritte’s “Ceci n’est pas une pipe” (This is not a pipe). And this is not a collection you’ll want to pass up. His poems are peopled by a ‘hive of voices’ that ‘become one / voice, their mouths the muzzles / of guns’; each will leave you blinking at what you are looking at, admiring its shape, and wanting to see more.”
—Elaine Sexton, author of Sleuth and Causeway
“With craft and acuity, Dean Kostos, as an intrepid and empathetic poet-reporter, sings the teeming city of New York, making the metropolis, with its monuments, museums, crimes, and mutable desires, seem an apt mirror for ‘the raucous currents of the self.’”
—Cyrus Cassells, author of The Crossed-Out Swastika and Beautiful Signor
“Dean Kostos’s poems slide in and out of ancient and modern worlds with the breathtaking grace characteristic of his work—but this time, they illuminate stories that have been trumpeted by the news media and are now revealed in a more nuanced and intimate light. He retells tragedies of sanctioned violence, such as Amadou Diallo’s fatal shooting, and reassigns power to victims. He renders institutions such as the ‘Department of Commodities’ both concrete and mythic; they sometimes even implode, as when flames sprout from that ubiquitous urban authority, the Con Edison building. This is no simplistic retelling of good and bad guys, though; in fact, what makes us evil, he gently shows, also makes us godly. Our split selves thrive, as in when ‘a seagull’s cry halves my brain,’ or the speaker’s disembodied shadow ‘writhes from the asphalt.’ Throughout, Dean Kostos is a witness and ageless player in the scenes he creates: ‘I / was here,’ he writes, and luckily, so are we.”
—Lynn McGee, author of Bonanza
“In This Is Not a Skyscraper, Dean Kostos joins the ranks of Whitman, Crane, and Lorca in offering us a vision of New York City that is at once a real place, in all its beauty and terror—a fantastical agora of death and desire—and a living, bustling metaphor for how we all come together to live our lives, find our loves, encounter our fears, make our art, and face our fates. His poems—vividly written and as vital and varied in form and content as the city that inspired them—‘block-by-block, / build a bridge’ to every reader who is animated by the lure and lore of the metropolis.”
—David Groff, author of Clay
—Elaine Sexton, author of Sleuth and Causeway
“With craft and acuity, Dean Kostos, as an intrepid and empathetic poet-reporter, sings the teeming city of New York, making the metropolis, with its monuments, museums, crimes, and mutable desires, seem an apt mirror for ‘the raucous currents of the self.’”
—Cyrus Cassells, author of The Crossed-Out Swastika and Beautiful Signor
“Dean Kostos’s poems slide in and out of ancient and modern worlds with the breathtaking grace characteristic of his work—but this time, they illuminate stories that have been trumpeted by the news media and are now revealed in a more nuanced and intimate light. He retells tragedies of sanctioned violence, such as Amadou Diallo’s fatal shooting, and reassigns power to victims. He renders institutions such as the ‘Department of Commodities’ both concrete and mythic; they sometimes even implode, as when flames sprout from that ubiquitous urban authority, the Con Edison building. This is no simplistic retelling of good and bad guys, though; in fact, what makes us evil, he gently shows, also makes us godly. Our split selves thrive, as in when ‘a seagull’s cry halves my brain,’ or the speaker’s disembodied shadow ‘writhes from the asphalt.’ Throughout, Dean Kostos is a witness and ageless player in the scenes he creates: ‘I / was here,’ he writes, and luckily, so are we.”
—Lynn McGee, author of Bonanza
“In This Is Not a Skyscraper, Dean Kostos joins the ranks of Whitman, Crane, and Lorca in offering us a vision of New York City that is at once a real place, in all its beauty and terror—a fantastical agora of death and desire—and a living, bustling metaphor for how we all come together to live our lives, find our loves, encounter our fears, make our art, and face our fates. His poems—vividly written and as vital and varied in form and content as the city that inspired them—‘block-by-block, / build a bridge’ to every reader who is animated by the lure and lore of the metropolis.”
—David Groff, author of Clay
Notă biografică
Dean Kostos’s collections include Rivering, Last Supper of the Senses, The Sentence That Ends with a Comma (taught at Duke University), and Celestial Rust. He edited Mama’s Boy and Pomegranate Seeds. His work has appeared in leading journals: Boulevard, Chelsea, Cimarron Review, Cincinnati Review, Southwest Review, Western Humanities Review, and on Oxygen.com. Having taught at Wesleyan, The Gallatin School, and The City University of New York, he also wrote a libretto for Voices of Ascension, and his poem, “Subway Silk,” was translated into a short film by Jill Clark.