By Matt Robinson
This ebook is ready reminiscence -- reminiscence as a poetic shape by which refractions of loss, restoration, discovery and identification shape an resourceful reshaping of the prior. In uncooked brushstrokes, Robinson files the sluggish cascade of occasions and characters slipping during the skinny membrane of expertise, shaping our histories. even as, he experiments with kind and shape in a superbly sinuous writing. With this, his first booklet, Robinson makes a wonderful debut at the North American literary level.
Read or Download A Ruckus of Awkward Stacking PDF
Similar literary books
Los angeles fin d’un discours très applaudi. – Présentation du docteur Samuel Fergusson. – « Excelsior. » – Portrait en pied du docteur. – Un fataliste convaincu. – Dîner au « Traveller’s club ». – Nombreux toasts de circonstance. Il y avait une grande affluence d’auditeurs, le 14 janvier 1862, à l. a. séance de los angeles Société royale géographique de Londres, Waterloo position, three.
Transactions Of the yankee Philosophical Society, V46, half three, September, 1956.
Gumshoe Conrad Metcalf has problems-there's a rabbit in his ready room and a trigger-happy kangaroo on his tail. Near-future Oakland is a courageous new global the place advanced animals are participants of society, the police visual display unit voters by way of their karma degrees, and mind-numbing medicines equivalent to Forgettol and Acceptol are all of the rage.
Extra info for A Ruckus of Awkward Stacking
Dad's place has only instant, and the coffee-maker, now mine, irovince away, is nothing but memory so this change, this alteration of my behaviour while home for Christmas, certainly has nothing to do with my mother, his wife, and my insistence on tea even in the face of my father's having merely one bag left (which proves she is now but a memory, and memory is short — her decorative tins now ash-sprinkled at their bottoms as they sit up on her stove) has nothing to do with grief, this, as i sip, i am quite sure of.
And there is no seventy-year-old lady, there are no braids, and although the cabin is half-dark, half-way between fredericton and halifax, there is no long white hair, my mother has no hair, or little, the pins (and tubes) not in her mouth, but arms, and what with the nurses and relatives, i wait two hours before reaching — turning instead to pages, to the seeming permanence of print; to a woman who leaves only on my terms, when i am finished; only when i close my eyes or turn a page. •43 hospitalrecliner there's a cot.
49 burial It was not meant to hurt. It had been made for happy remembering By people who were still too young To have learned about memory. —from "A Short Film" by Ted Hughes it was not meant to hurt, as such, that ritual departure, no, it was instead a release: a place for tears and words and suits; a cause for dressing up the ties and cuffs an awkwardness become physical. it had been made for happy remembering — that black, that stone, that monument to and of the earth that you'd become, now physical, chiselled, and polished: a monochromatic, and so, by people who were still too young to think themselves a cargo, (something other than the mingled sweat and breath of late-night dance and drinks), you were carried on.
A Ruckus of Awkward Stacking by Matt Robinson