Synopses & Reviews
At the heart of this vivid collection, Donna Masini confronts the unbearable loss of a beloved sister. Looking for solace-- or escape--in the quiet of an afternoon cinema, she investigates the ways in which movies shape our imaginations and teach us how to mold our own experiences. In poems that are by turns intimate and wild, provocative and tender, Masini explores personal loss, global violence, and the consolations of art. She brings her wit and grief, fury, and propulsive energy to bear on the preoccupations of our daily lives, both those that are center stage and those that creep along the edges of our screens.
FROM "THE LIGHTS GO DOWN AT THE ANGELIKA"
Now it's quiet, still
this burden of being watcher and screen
and what floats across it-- light pouring out
its time and necklines and train wrecks.
In poems that are by turns intimate and wild, provocative and tender, award-winning poet Donna Masini explores personal loss, global violence, and the consolations of art. She brings her wit, grief, fury, and propulsive energy to bear on the preoccupations of our daily lives and our attempts to bargain with endings of every kind. Equal parts lament and praise, 4:30 Movie is fueled by despair and humor, governed by the ways in which movies enter our imaginations and frame our experiences. The movie theater becomes a presiding metaphor: part waiting room, part childhood, part underground depths where the self is a bit player, riding the subway with "its engine of extras." Masini's exquisite wordplay shows the mind wrestling ferociously to forestall grief, as if finding the right words might somehow allow us to extend our beautiful, foreshortened run.