Wrong Norma
‘I would read anything she wrote’ Susan Sontag
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- ¥1,400
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- ¥1,400
発行者による作品情報
Wrong Norma is Anne Carson's first book of original material in eight years
NATIONAL BOOK CRITICS CIRCLE AWARD WINNER FOR POETRY
'Effortlessly readable and – a word critics don’t often use about her – fun' DAILY TELEGRAPH
'I'm a big fan... She pinpoints the collision of oracle and anachronism' TEJU COLE
As with her most recent publications, Wrong Norma is a facsimile edition of the original hand-designed book, drawn and annotated by the author. Several of the twenty-five startling poetic prose pieces have appeared in magazines and journals like the New Yorker and the Paris Review.
Anne Carson is probably our most celebrated living poet, winner of countless awards and routinely tipped for the Nobel Prize in Literature. Famously reticent, asking that her books be published without cover copy, she has agreed to say this:
Wrong Norma is a collection of writings about different things, like Joseph Conrad, Guantanamo, Flaubert, snow, poverty, Roget's Thesaurus, my Dad, Saturday night, Sokrates, writing sonnets, forensics, encounters with lovers, the word "idea", the feet of Jesus, and Russian thugs. The pieces are not linked. That's why I've called them "wrong".
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Carson's genre-bending latest (after H of H Playbook) features the time-splicing mythology readers have come to expect of her fiercely intelligent, mordantly articulate mind. Comprised largely of prose poems that are "cold but not shocking," as Carson writes of the water, one of the collection's touchstone elements, these poems revisit classical myth through contemporary idiom, performing "the ten thousand adjustments of vivid/ action." Carson's language is hyper-alert, her range of material and allusions making her lines unpredictable, her speaker a guide to "Sex divorce fighting longing realness pretending!" In "An Evening with Joseph Conrad," she writes: "Once I was invited to a christening in a country far away. It was June. On the drive the weather closed in, grey and vague, typical summer weather for that region. The ceremony was in a tiny white church. Everyone sat packed like teeth. Short glorious off-key songs were sung by a ten-year-old girl. Short glorious off-key songs were sung." Her use of hybrid forms and her quest for both surprise and accuracy leaves one gratefully wrong-footed, immersed in vignettes about freedom, time, and the search for "plain words" within a world seemingly designed to obstruct them. These are original poems from a poet who pushes and renews the medium.
