Kathryn Maris – författare

A neurotically funny collection that looks under the hood of adult lifeAs in life, she was a pain in the arsein death. He could hear her roaringall the way from the fifth circle,'Why the hell do you get to be in abetter circle than me, I'm wrathfulbecause of your lust -'Deploying a chorus of voices both ancient and modern to explore a world of sexual politics and singles cruises, dysfunctional families and psychoanalysis, awkward cohabitations and self-help guides for the would-be Dream Girl, this is the third collection from a unique poetic talent: observant, obsessive and wickedly witty.'The funniest book I've read in years. Maris flexes her wit and wisdom to create a litany of nervous characters in a style that's mordant, sarcastic, satiric yet often compassionate . . . a poet of risk, she is dark, deep and often laugh out loud'DALJIT NAGRA'Her dry, droll, clinically deadpan manner is all her own; but her themes - obscure hurts, implacable dissatisfactions, hardwired propensity for victimhood and suffering - reflect the experience of humanity at large'CHRISTOPHER REID

'But back to the summer day the spikegrazed my brother's scalp: I slept beside himin his racing car bed and my father woke meand slapped my face, thinking, I assume, of sex,whereas I was already thinking about death.'Urban, suburban, sharply observant, now obsessive and now urbane, the poems in Kathryn Maris's third book range with a dry wit over such subjects as parenthood, marriage, adultery, the politics of children's sports contests, female prison and psychoanalysis. The House with Only an Attic and a Basement is that rare thing: a darkly funny collection of poems that courses with keen intelligence, yet wears its learning lightly so that it is a pleasure to stride along with every poem.

Occasional Wild Parties brings together Sam Riviere, one of the most discussed of the new generation of British poets, whose 'post-internet' poetry sees him acting now as scribe, now as DJ, taking in everything from technologized romance to celebrity culture as filtered through Kim Kardashian's make-up routine; the 'elegant ghoul' Frederick Seidel, zooming through the dark underbelly of international high society on his Ducati racing bike; and the wonderfully observant Kathryn Maris, whose work ranges with a dark wit over incomprehensible deities, wayward mothers, the politics of children's sports contests, and psychoanalysis. All three lift the lid on their corners of civilized society to show the less glittering realities that lie just beneath the surface."On the verge of perpetrating acts of artistic barbarism"I perceived a spoon as the title of a plate of food"- SAM RIVIERE, 'Mindfulness'"Deer garter-belt across our visionAnd stand there waiting for our decision."Our only decision was how to cook the venison.I am civilized butI see the silenceAnd write the words for the thought balloon."- FREDERICK SEIDEL, 'Kill Poem'"The man in the basement wrote stories about heroin.The woman in the attic read stories with heroines.The woman in the attic noticed a bruise that ran from the top to the base of her thigh.The bruise looked like Europe.The man in the basement was in love with the sister of the secretive man who loved him more.He whooped to the woman, 'You killed your student?'To himself he wept, 'I killed my father.'"- KATHRYN MARIS, 'The House with Only an Attic and a Basement'

Kathryn Maris borrows rhythms, vocabulary and themes from the Bible in her new Seren collection of poems, God Loves You. The result is more than artful parody, although a sly wit is in evidence. It is an approach that accommodates large themes, unravelling them in new ways. The first section, 'What will the neighbours think?, is a kaleidoscopic view of the sins and sinners of the modern city and opens, appropriately enough, with a vision of a flood to rival Noah's. The poems feature domestic discord, gossip, suicide, celebrity and anxiety about the safety and behaviour of children and spouses. It says much about this poet's meticulous poise and tone that we are lured into these scenarios with our sympathies fully engaged. The following sections subvert scripture more directly. A mock-prayer opens: 'My father, who art in heaven,/ sits under an umbrella that is his firmament'; a sonnet begins: 'Kyrie eleison! I said it in the pub.' Such burlesque moments mask poignant themes of praise or blame, as well as being funny. A skilful use of form is characteristic, as in the sestina 'Darling, Will You Please Pick up those Books?' Other pieces are set out in the numbered style of psalms or parables but have an entirely contemporary edge.