Seeing Birds in Church is a Kind of Adieu is concerned with images and perception; the intricacies and strangeness of human relationships. Her language, sometimes surreal, challenges expectations. Always sensual and inventive, this is poetry that surprises; poetry with a rapid heartbeat that demands the reader responds. Ang deploys sharp crafting and a unique voice.
Publisher: Cinnamon Press
Number of pages: 80
Dimensions: 216 x 140 x 5 mm
For those who already know Ang's poetry, the content of this collection will not be unfamiliar. Her voice as usual is singular in its definition, sending sensory shock waves through the reader. She shies away from nothing and transforms the mundane into a new dimension, as this excerpt from 'Cordon Bleu' demonstrates:
Their mother called every night cordon bleu.
She drank. For as long as seven days, she managed to
hold down a job washing dishes, like nausea.
The Catholic nuns educated her well. They taught her
Agnus Dei - which means things could be worse.
Like an Orphanage. She reads the newspaper
every day. She listens to the radio from upstairs.
What is the upper class, she wants to know, if not sleeping
on the top bunk?
Ang's use of language is both lyric and forceful. In her poem 'A Sun that isn't a Source of Heat' the first line reads, 'The mirror is a lesson in stillness, in watching the room...' Later in the poem she writes, 'Candles are lit to represent soul and the burning of material effects.' Her penultimate poem titled 'Death in the Afternoon' is a haunting work and one that leaves much to personal interpretation.
Overall this is a masterful compilation. Seeing Birds in Church is a Kind of Adieu is Ang's fifth volume of poetry; she now lives in Spinea in Italy, where she is a magazine editor. -- Norma Penfold @ www.gwales.com