The Frame Called Ruin

by Hadara Bar-Nadav

Overview

Poetry. "In Hadara Bar-Nadav's poetry, ruin gives birth to blossoms, and broken glass gives rise to temples of a thousand shining windows. In the presence of death, under the aegis of catastrophe, everything comes alive. This is not merely the art of affirmation; this is the poetry of fierce abandonment to Being. In THE FRAME CALLED RUIN, our souls are shown, thank God, to be both weightless and indestructible: 'Everything unbuttons and we / forget about war.' Bar-Nadav has made a book of miracles."—Donald Revell

"Space is at the center of this gorgeously sculpted book, whether it's the torn spaces left behind by war or the polished spaces of contemporary architecture or the bottomless rectangles of Rothko canvases. Bar-Nadav approaches them all with an ekphrastic eye, negotiating them through agile juxtapositions and a balance of sharp clarity and evocative ambiguity. Each poem is a gem."—Cole Swensen

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781936970087
Publisher:	New Issues Poetry and Prose
Publication date:	10/01/2012
Pages:	79
Product dimensions:	6.80(w) x 9.70(h) x 0.40(d)

About the Author

HADARA BAR-NADAV is the author of A Glass of Milk to Kiss Goodnight (Margie/Intuit House, 2007), which was awarded the Margie Book Prize. Her chapbook, Show Me Yours (Laurel Review/ GreenTower Press, 2010), was awarded the Midwest Poets Series Award. She is also co-author, with Michelle Boisseau, of Writing Poems, 8th edition (Pearson, 2011). Her awards include fellowships from The Vermont Studio Center and The Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. She is currently an Assistant Professor of English at the University of Missouri-Kansas City and lives in Kansas City with her husband, Scott George Beattie, a furniture maker and visual artist.

What People are Saying About This

Donald Revell

In Hadara Bar-Nadav's poetry, ruin gives birth to blossoms, and broken glass gives rise to temples of a thousand shining windows. In the presence of death, under the aegis of catastrophe, everything comes alive. This is not merely the art of affirmation; this is the poetry of fierce abandonment to Being. In The Frame Called Ruin, our souls are shown, thank God, to be both weightless and indestructible: “Everything unbuttons and we/forget about war.” Bar-Nadav has made a book of miracles.--Donald Revell

Editorial Reviews

Terse and fiery terms, strong emotions, and analogies from the visual arts dominate this often erotic, sometimes brilliant second collection from Bar-Nadav (A Glass of Milk to Kiss Goodnight). “Show Me Yours,” a long poem in breathless short lines, imagines its central woman as seen by men, “A gumdrop girl in your pocket/ and the terrible lint of words.// How large your hunger,/ how empty your mouth.” Bar-Nadav has a sense of humor and a flair for personification, as in the disturbing poem spoken by a baby carriage “abandoned at the beach,” where “fog rots the fabled spokes/ where I once thought a god lived.” The prose blocks of “Inside the Maze” speak for the hungry Minotaur of Greek myth, while “Blur” commemorates victims of a suicide bomb in the Israeli resort, Eilat. Most often, Bar-Nadav’s favored spaces are inward, figurative, and all her own. “Romance nevertheless is true,” says the crucial line from “Let Me Hold the Kaleidoscope,” while a breathtaking ode at a colorful beach follows up its own hot invitations with scary suggestions: “Let’s climb a tree and hang you/ upside down by your knees/ while bears eat your honeyed mouth.” (Oct.)

Publishers Weekly

Terse and fiery terms, strong emotions, and analogies from the visual arts dominate this often erotic, sometimes brilliant second collection from Bar-Nadav (A Glass of Milk to Kiss Goodnight). “Show Me Yours,” a long poem in breathless short lines, imagines its central woman as seen by men, “A gumdrop girl in your pocket/ and the terrible lint of words.// How large your hunger,/ how empty your mouth.” Bar-Nadav has a sense of humor and a flair for personification, as in the disturbing poem spoken by a baby carriage “abandoned at the beach,” where “fog rots the fabled spokes/ where I once thought a god lived.” The prose blocks of “Inside the Maze” speak for the hungry Minotaur of Greek myth, while “Blur” commemorates victims of a suicide bomb in the Israeli resort, Eilat. Most often, Bar-Nadav’s favored spaces are inward, figurative, and all her own. “Romance nevertheless is true,” says the crucial line from “Let Me Hold the Kaleidoscope,” while a breathtaking ode at a colorful beach follows up its own hot invitations with scary suggestions: “Let’s climb a tree and hang you/ upside down by your knees/ while bears eat your honeyed mouth.”—Publishers Weekly

From the Publisher