Corridor by Josephine SingerCorridor by Josephine Singer


byJosephine Singer

Hardcover | February 27, 2008

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“Proverbs are true / but not quite / true enough.”—from the poem "The Surprises.”

All of the poems in this book seek to say what is true enough, what is truer even than proverbs are. Singer’s proverbial insight, like Kafka’s, describes the reality behind things, in a spare and stark place that is not for us. Reality, like a poem, is a corridor between dark and dark that leads at last to a “true recess,” emptiness and void, “not a soul in sight.” But still in the darkness there are circles of lamplight, places of rest. “What but a desire to stay here would have made me come to this desolate place?” asks Kafka. We too want to stay for a while, learn for a while, in the desolate places Singer shows us and of which she somehow manages to make a sojourn—a true enough home, even in the corridor.
Josephine Singer (a pseudonym) is a professor of literature. Her critical publications include books and essays on writers from Aeschylus to Ashbery. Her poetry has appeared in The Southwest Review and the Library of America volume of American religious poetry.
Title:CorridorFormat:HardcoverDimensions:104 pages, 8 × 5 × 0.6 inPublished:February 27, 2008Publisher:Borderland BooksLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0976878151

ISBN - 13:9780976878155

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Read from the Book

We were cheerfully discussing the effectsof foreshortening. Party sounds tinkledall around. The end of the century was near,and the end of life, never that far away.How nice to speak prose in a time of peril.The pie gets bigger, as fewer of usremain to share it. Hello, pie:today we want to eat you up, it’s a good day,and tomorrow is yesterday with a frisson.Give us our margin, whose shape is soclean and clear, simply the plain roadleading on to its destination.—“New Year”

Editorial Reviews

“Poetry in the spirit of Franz Kafka . . . Singer’s work moves me by its indirect yet surpassingly poignant avoidance of all obvious pathos.”—Harold Bloom