Janine Joseph – författare
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"Janine Joseph writes with an open and easy intimacy. The language here is at once disruptive and familiar, political and sensual, and tinged by the melancholy of loss and the discomforting radiance of redemption. A strong debut." —Chris Abani
The best way to hide is in plain sight. In this politically-charged and candid debut, we follow the chronicles of an illegal immigrant speaker over a twenty-year span as she grows up in the foreign and forbidding landscape of America.
From "Ivan, Always Hiding":
I strained for the socketas you pulled me,my bare legs against your legs
in the windowless dark. The room,snuffed out,
could have been nolarger than a freight car,no smaller than a box van;
we couldn''t tell anymore, the glintsin the shellacked floor, too,
were dulled. This is like death, you said,always joking. I slid my headinto the crook of your neck,
and didn''t disagree.
Raised in the Philippines and California, Janine Joseph holds an MFA from New York University and a PhD from the University of Houston. Her poems have appeared in the Kenyon Review Online, Best New Poets, Hayden''s Ferry Review, and elsewhere. Her libretto "From My Mother''s Mother" was performed as part of the Houston Grand Opera''s "Song of Houston: East + West" series. A Kundiman and Paul and Daisy Soros Fellow, she is an assistant professor of English at Weber State University.
272 kr
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246 kr
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In the deeply personal Decade of the Brain, Janine Joseph writes of a newly-naturalized American citizen who suffers from post-concussive memory loss after a major auto accident.The collection is an odyssey of what it means to recover—physically and mentally—in the aftermath of trauma and traumatic brain injury, charting when “before” crosses into “after.” Through connected poems, buckling and expansive syntax, ekphrasis, and conjoined poetic forms, Decade of the Brain remembers and misremembers hospital visits, violence and bodily injury, intimate memories, immigration status, family members, and the self.
After the accident I turned outall of the lights in the room while I watched,
concussed, from the mirror. I edged like a feverwith nothing on the tip of my tongue.