My Father's Hands

Karen Shenfeld's careful, concentrated language draws the reader in. Her's is a charged, physical world where figure skates are "a shock of alpine white," and the Torah's "crowned letters dance." It is also a world marked by profound metaphysical connections where fireflies flash "coded signals of their secret selves." There is an irresistible brilliance and humour to several of the poems and Shenfeld's tributes to her redhot Jewish mamas -- Molly Picon, Fanny Brice, and Sophie Tucker -- wi...