One morning in May, I stepped into the shower a balanced man. Ten minutes later, I was on my knees, cracked and weeping on a rubber mat. I cannot account for this on a second-by-second basis, the scene remains too fuzzy, beyond description.
New short fiction by Kathryn Scanlan, whose work has appeared or is forthcoming in NOON, Fence, The Collagist, Two Serious Ladies, Pastelegram, The Iowa Review, and Egress. She lives in Los Angeles.
The year ahead in books by independent publishers and presses
An innovative writer, critic, performer and bon vivant extraordinaire, Hartmann helped to introduce Japanese poetic forms to the English literary tradition, championed photography as an art form, conducted ‘concerts’ with smells instead of sounds, and drank riotously with everyone from the Symbolist poets of Paris to the Bohemians of Greenwich Village to the movie stars of Hollywood.
In later life he was a publisher’s reader and literary advisor for Jonathan Cape, where he was an early and ebullient proponent of Ted Hughes, Arthur Koestler, Stevie Smith, John Betjeman, John Fowles, Vladimir Nabokov, Alan Paton and Ian Fleming. (No Plomer, no Bond.)
It is high time Lola Ridge was recognized by thousands of women who are triumphantly following in her footsteps today, most of them without even knowing of this interesting, in some ways tragic precursor to whose life and work we all should feel gratefully indebted – Anne Stevenson
Moore’s poetry relies on his keen observation of his subjects and his tone as he describes them: he is focused but relaxed, clinical in his balance between intimacy and distance. Technically the key to his work, I think, is his perpetual struggle with form, the acceptance of the confined fourteen-line space and then the simultaneous way in which he perverts it or rebels against it.