“Mementos that Bird has kept for years hold the past inside them, making it tangible and permanent: clippings of Mickey’s hair, peels of the first orange they shared, a bloody tissue. They stir nostalgia but reopen its wounds, like scabs asking to be tugged back so they can bleed.” (from Sarah Gerard’s NYT review of “Bird” by Noy Holland)
On page 59: a lovely sentence that seems like a found senryū …
A swell of things:
“It is here, in Holland’s subtly radiant details … that “Bird” shines brightest, since they so aptly mirror what’s happening beneath the domestic surface.” (another snippet from Sarah Gerard’s review)
This novel sings like
poetry; I’m obliged to
read between the lines.
(19 May 2016)
“The writing is hallucinatory, musical and intimate.” (Sarah Gerard)
Holland, Noy. 2015. Bird. Berkeley, CA: Counterpoint Press.