Synopses & Reviews
Harvey, whose debut collection was praised by the
New Yorker as "intensely visual, mournfully comic and syntactically
inventive," offers her second stunning collection
Units are the engines
I understand best.
One betrayal, two.
Merrily, merrily, merrily.
-from "Introduction to the World"
In Sad Little Breathing Machine, Matthea Harvey explores the strange and intricate mechanics of human systems-of the body, of thought, of language itself. These are the engines, like poetry, that propel both our comprehension and misunderstanding. "If you're lucky," Harvey writes, "after a number of / revolutions, you'll / feel something catch."
"I pictured myself arriving at an amusement park, only none of the rides are familiar. I considered running away. I could break my neck or be catapulted into the sky. I might never be seen again. It's only poetry, I reminded myself, and climbed on board. I'm tossed and bucked and jabbed and lashed and flipped. I'm having a nearly insane amount of fun, and I don't want it to ever end." --James Tate
Matthea Harvey is also the author of Pity the Bathtub Its Forced Embrace of the Human Form. She is the poetry editor of American Letters & Commentary and lives in Brooklyn.
Harvey, whose debut collection of poems was praised by The New Yorker as "intensely visual, mournfully comic, and syntactically
inventive," offers an equally stunning second collection in Sad Little Breathing Machine. Throughout this book, Harvey explores the strange and intricate mechanics of human systemsof the body, of thought, of language itself. Her poems are themselves enginesdevices that, like poetry itself, propel both our comprehension and our misunderstanding. This is a poetry concerning our sense of wonder in all its guises. "If you're lucky," Harvey writes, "after a number of / revolutions, you'll / feel something catch."
"[Reading these poems,] I pictured myself arriving at an amusement park, only none of the rides are familiar. I considered running away. I could break my neck or be catapulted into the sky. I might never be seen again. It's only poetry, I reminded myself, and climbed on board. I'm tossed and bucked and jabbed and lashed and flipped. I'm having a nearly insane amount of fun, and I don't want it to ever end."James Tate
Review
"I pictured myself arriving at an amusement park, only none of the rides are familiar. I considered running away. I could break my neck or be catapulted into the sky. I might never be seen again. It's only poetry, I reminded myself, and climbed on board. I'm tossed and bucked and jabbed and lashed and flipped. I'm having a nearly insane amount of fun, and I don't want it to ever end." James Tate
Review
"Taut and up-to-the-minute in its intellectual and its formal concerns, Harvey's sophomore effort seems sure to consolidate her status as a young poet to watch....Admirers of Brenda Hillman, or even Anne Carson, may find here a new favorite." Publishers Weekly
Review
"This book is full of tiny music boxes...hear the songs and fall into strange, glittering and familiar abysses." BOMB
Synopsis
Harvey, whose debut collection was praised by the
New Yorker as "intensely visual, mournfully comic and syntactically inventive," offers her second stunning collection.
Units are the engines
I understand best.
One betrayal, two.
Merrily, merrily, merrily.
from "Introduction to the World"
In Sad Little Breathing Machine, Matthea Harvey explores the strange and intricate mechanics of human systems of the body, of thought, of language itself. These are the engines, like poetry, that propel both our comprehension and misunderstanding. "If you're lucky," Harvey writes, "after a number of / revolutions, you'll / feel something catch."
Synopsis
Harvey, whose debut collection was praised by the
New Yorker as "intensely visual, mournfully comic and syntactically
inventive," offers her second stunning collection
Units are the engines
I understand best.
One betrayal, two.
Merrily, merrily, merrily.
-from "Introduction to the World"
In Sad Little Breathing Machine, Matthea Harvey explores the strange and intricate mechanics of human systems-of the body, of thought, of language itself. These are the engines, like poetry, that propel both our comprehension and misunderstanding. "If you're lucky," Harvey writes, "after a number of / revolutions, you'll / feel something catch."
"I pictured myself arriving at an amusement park, only none of the rides are familiar. I considered running away. I could break my neck or be catapulted into the sky. I might never be seen again. It's only poetry, I reminded myself, and climbed on board. I'm tossed and bucked and jabbed and lashed and flipped. I'm having a nearly insane amount of fun, and I don't want it to ever end." --James Tate
About the Author
Matthea Harvey is the author of
Pity the Bathtub Its Forced Embrace of the Human Form. She is the poetry editor of
American Letters & Commentary and lives in Brooklyn.