Poetry. "In DOG GIRL, Heidi Lynn Staples dances on a tightrope strung between sense and nonsense, between adulthood and childhood, and the lyricism of her verbal acrobatics confounds and delights in the way only genuine poetry can. Staples takes the existing lexicon and wrenches words into position, then commands them to be other than what they were, much to the joy of her astonished reader" --Christopher Kennedy. The truth and beauty welcomed in DOG GIRL is that nothing lasts, nothing is complete, and nothing is perfect. Staples continues the Joycean, Steinian and even Shakespearean wordplay evident in her first book, channeling it through a dizzying collection of formal structures-"Janimerick" through "Decemblank," with haiku, sonnets, prose poems, nursery rhyme, and more. She draws her explicit subject matter from her own passionate and tumultuous marriage, her profound engagement with the nonhuman world, and a core-deep grief from a late-term pregnancy loss. Staples previously authored GUESS CAN GALLOP.
Another sex book in a week! The energy in here, and lexical ecstatic Staples uses, hurt at first. Like hurt good, and make that sexy point. But how to sustain this through the whole book? And how not to make it a device that looks too often like revision tricks, that's the challenge that I don't think is overcome.
I enjoyed the book. Sometimes felt like a pale imitation of Jarnot, at other times felt like an easier version of Catherine Wagner's subject matter in Macular Hole, but still quite enjoyable.