Paris Views Author:Michael Joyce Anyone who loves Paris will find that literarily-overdetermined city brought to new life---new and not particularly literary, for through Joyce's sharp, quick, and cleverly amorous eye, Paris is evoked not as objet d'art, but as sloppily, raucously, lived; as an idiosyncratic confluence of specific instances that shed deep light on the way that ... more »individual perception and experience sculpt public space. Throughout, he makes the most of a delightful and visceral head-on collision of languages to construct a space between all utterance that is raw and always reaching out for its word---which, though not yet arrived, can be felt coming into being through that collision itself. -- Cole Swensen
Oui, bien sûr, la traduction entres les langues est impossible, but what happens here is better: in a language that has no word for "home," Michael Joyce tries to find out what one is by wandering the weird labyrinthine and counterintuitive transfer points (comme le Paris Métro, je pense!) entre anglais et français. Franchement, ce n'est pas "Franglish" qu'on va trouver in this book mais a different kind of synchronicity, not a mélange of languages fusing but rather a scintillating point where chaque langue existe seule et ensemble tous le deux at the same time and toujours. --Kazim Ali
"How do you say we are longing to mean something?" With poetry that registers the migratory subject's occasional glimpse of les bonheurs in the midst of self-estrangement, each view captured "in a language we / can't understand although by now we know the words." The frissons here arise not from the fluent excursions into Franglais or their corresponding aperçus, but from the "untranslatable" difference between what we will (to) remember and what we remember, yet another trace of that inexorable "universe of silence" which, whether it "possesses us" or we it, underwrites our eloquence. There may be "no second act in heaven" or in American lives, but here, in these deeply felt and brilliantly nuanced poems, lyric splendor is making a formidable comeback. -- Joe Amato
The pleasure of slowly walking, vieux pantouflard & flâneur that I am, through a city & two languages I love is always a treat -- & is positively relished when I can do it from the comfort of my Schlendrian armchair, eye-tip-toeing gently & at leisure, savoring each word & phrase of these sharp, lovely, rich poems. I'm home, here & there, in this book & in that city. --Pierre Joris« less