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Judith Terzi's Now, Somehow perfectly captures the Proustian moment-a carefully calibrated record of the backwards look. In the very first poem, she imagines her oncologist cutting into her colon as a way to question what remains, what's left behind in this rearrangement of organs: "No memory of all the little madeleines / and Sunday's flow of hours. Slippery / fingertips straining to hold onto a waltz." The focus on recovering the body also includes the Covid pandemic, as the final words of the book lament "putting on a little black dress to go nowhere" when what she really longs for is to "Put on yesterday's refrains." It is no accident that Terzi's last word is "refrains," the repeated lines of songs, for it is this impulse to sing again-to re-verse-that is at the heart of this astonishing collection.
-Linda Dove, author of Fearn, This Too, O Dear Deer, and In Defense of ObjectsJudith Terzi's Now, Somehow perfectly captures the Proustian moment-a carefully calibrated record of the backwards look. In the very first poem, she imagines her oncologist cutting into her colon as a way to question what remains, what's left behind in this rearrangement of organs: "No memory of all the little madeleines / and Sunday's flow of hours. Slippery / fingertips straining to hold onto a waltz." The focus on recovering the body also includes the Covid pandemic, as the final words of the book lament "putting on a little black dress to go nowhere" when what she really longs for is to "Put on yesterday's refrains." It is no accident that Terzi's last word is "refrains," the repeated lines of songs, for it is this impulse to sing again-to re-verse-that is at the heart of this astonishing collection.
-Linda Dove, author of Fearn, This Too, O Dear Deer, and In Defense of Objects
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