Winner of the Vassar Miller Prize in Poetry, 2012 With muscular language and visceral imagery, Club Icarus will appeal to sons and fathers, to those tired of poetry that makes no sense, to those who think lyric poetry is dead, to those who think the narrative poem is stale, and to those who appreciate the vernacular as the language of living and the act of living as something worth putting into language.
The audacious first novel from the award-winning and bestselling author of Boy, Snow, Bird and What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours • “Oyeyemi brilliantly conjures up the raw emotions and playground banter of childhood. . . . A masterly first novel.”–The New York Times Book Review "Remarkable. . . . As original as it is unsettling, The Icarus Girl runs straight at the heart of what it means to belong."– O, The Oprah Magazine Jessamy “Jess” Harrison, age eight, is the child of an English father and a Nigerian mother. Possessed of an extraordinary imagination, she has a hard time fitting in at school. It is only when she visits Nigeria for the first time that she makes a friend who understands her: a ragged little girl named TillyTilly. But soon TillyTilly’s visits become more disturbing, until Jess realizes she doesn’t actually know who her friend is at all. Drawing on Nigerian mythology, Helen Oyeyemi presents a striking variation on the classic literary theme of doubles — both real and spiritual — in this lyrical and bold debut.
My name is Icarus for a reason. If there’s a way to screw up a plan, I’m your man. Case in point: Falling for the man I’m supposed to seduce and ferry to his death. Adam Devlin, aka the Devil. A vigilante ex-cop and a thorn in the side of the mobster blackmailing me. Should be easy. Except Adam’s longing for intimacy—for submission—is irresistible. Seduce him, yes. Lead him to his death, world of no. There’s only one solution to save us both: kidnap the Devil. I mentioned my name is Icarus, right? Three guesses how this plan will go. Bet you only need one. Icarus and the Devil is a steamy M/M urban fantasy romance novel. It features two danger-magnet men trying to stay alive and failing to stay away from each other. Chaos ensues on their way to happily ever after.
A futuristic reimaging of the classic Greek myth, as a boy ventures through deep space and challenges the awesome power of black holes. The beauty of the book lies in the images, provided by NASA and the Hubble Space telescope, and printed on board rather than paper.
Trying to make sense of a disordered world, Stefanie Wortman's debut collection examines works of art as varied as casts of antique sculpture, 19th-century novels, and even scenes from reality television to investigate the versions of order that they offer. These deft poems yield moments of surprising levity even as they mount a sharp critique of human folly. "These poems seem haunted by a mostly nameless melancholia. In The Permanent Collection, however, turns its grim geography of prisons, mortuaries, and tawdry suburbs into something close to classical elegy. 'In sunken rooms,' Wortman writes, 'on scratchy rugs, maybe we’ve never known happiness.' It’s that 'maybe'—the smart hedge—that renders her poems complex, often beguiling, but never without a gesture of redemption. This should be part of any serious poet’s permanent collection."— Chad Davidson, author of The Last Predicta and judge
Owen McLeod’s extraordinary debut maps the contours of an ordinary life: the rise and fall of romantic love, the struggle against mental illness, and the unending quest for meaning and transcendence. Ranging from sonnets and sestinas to experimental forms, these poems are unified by their musicality, devotion to craft, and openness of heart.
This collection’s title—as in tether, strike, eyelash, welt—is a nod to the fluidity of language and the foolish penchant we have for naming things, including ourselves. The poems refuse to navigate, choosing instead to face head-on the snares of gender, patriarchy, and parenting. In the closing environmental poems of farewell, the speaker regains communion with nature through the ageing body. “Poem by poem, line by line, and word by word, Every Lash sings of our complex human entanglements with places, the past and all the other creatures we meet on the road. Earthy and soulful, funny and fierce, I needed these poems. We all do.” –Jenny Browne, Texas Poet Laureate, author of Dear Stranger and judge.
“There are some poets we admire for a mastery that allows them to tell a story, express an epiphany, form a conclusion, all gracefully and even memorably—yet language in some way remains external to them. But there are other poets in whom language seems to arise spontaneously, fulfilling a design in which the poet’s intention feels secondary. Books by these poets we read with a gathering sense of excitement and recognition at the linguistic web being drawn deliberately tighter around a nucleus of human experience that is both familiar and completely new, until at last it seems no phrase is misplaced and no word lacks its resonance with what has come before. Such a book is Austin Segrest’s Door to Remain. Ranging between Atlanta, Georgia, and the Eternal City of Rome, these poems offer a poignant chronicle of haunting by a mother who is simultaneously present and absent even before her death. The centerpiece of the book is a poem in nineteen sections entitled ‘Majestic Diner’ that strives to answer its own epigraph, from George Herbert: ‘My God, what is a heart?’ Elsewhere, the poet writes ‘Humankind / cannot bear to be cheated out of our most guarded truths,’ paraphrasing T.S. Eliot’s dictum that ‘Humankind cannot bear very much reality,’ and part of what makes this book memorable are the clear-sightedness and charity with which those truths are anatomized.”—Karl Kirchwey, author of Poems of Rome and judge
This collection is a record of one man’s navigation of loss, addiction, and labor. At once a meditation on the allure of a legacy in self-destruction and a giving over to hope, Felling is an exploration in honesty. Rendered in direct language and through clear eyes, this book, as its title indicates, is concerned with tensions of agency, creation, and destruction—upward and downward motion. “After the 1940 publication of Native Son, Richard Wright shared some of his stylistic goals in the novel. ‘I wanted the reader to feel that Bigger’s story was happening now,’ he writes, ‘like a play upon the stage or a movie unfolding upon the screen. Action follows action, as in a prize fight.’ Kelan Nee’s poetry delivers the immediacy and punch that Wright demanded of literature. Nee has the head for poetry, the heart for poetry, and above all, the guts. This debut collection holds back nothing and leaves me reeling with high hopes for Nee’s future in the craft.”—Gregory Fraser, judge and author of Designed for Flight and Answering the Ruins
