US (a.)
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- ¥1,800
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- ¥1,800
発行者による作品情報
In his greatly anticipated new full-length book of poetry, the first since The Dead Emcee Scrolls in 2006, “the poet laureate of hip-hop” (CNN) Saul Williams presents his ideas, observations, realizations, dreams, and questions about the state of America, the American psyche, and what it means to be American.
After four years abroad, Williams returned to the United States and found his head twirling with thoughts on race, class, gender, finance, freedom, guns, cooking shows, dog shows, superheroes, not-so-super politicians—everything that makes up our country. US(a.) is a collection of poems that embodies the spirit of a culture that questions sentiments and realities, embracing a cross-section of pop culture, hip-hop, and the greater world politic of the moment. Williams explores what social media may only hint at—times and realities have changed; there is a connect and a disconnect. We are wirelessly connected to a past and path to which we are chained. Saul Williams stops and frisks the moment, makes it empty its pockets, and chronicles what’s inside. Here is an extraordinary book that will find its place in the hands and minds of a new generation.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Poet, rapper, and actor Williams (The Dead Emcee Scrolls) explores the complex and violent present and history of the U.S. through the pop culture and oppression it creates in his sprawling and uneven new collection. From the book's first offering, Williams's words reveal their ability to fly and fall; "The Televisions Descended from Above" opens with stunning imagery "a curtain of light/ pours from the top/ of the screen" but ends with the trite declaration "I am a blood red pen./ I am this page." Williams expands the range of his formal chops throughout numerous poems, but too often they look and feel convoluted on the page. The book succeeds in parts of its second section and the entirety of its third when it takes the form of a film-in-verse; the highlight is a fictionalized account of the relationship between trumpeter Miles Davis and French singer Juliette Gr co, in which Williams presents brilliantly rendered moments of the couple's romance. Unfortunately, the book's flaws too often stand out. In "Beneath the Ruins are Older Ruins," Williams writes, "I need/ a million mouths/ to say this/ but I only have/ this one," and his poems suffer from this impulse. In this ambitious attempt to address America's myriad ills, Williams has produced a cacophony that feels incomplete.
