Silver Road

by Kazim Ali

In 1953, Yoko Ono wrote a score called "Secret Piece," an open-ended formula for musical performance in a forest at daybreak. Beginning with this invitation to creation, and using essays, diary entries, prose maps, and verse fragments, Kazim Ali marks a path through quantum physics, sixth-century Chola Empire sculptures, the challenges of literary translation and of climate change, and destruction of a priceless set of handmade flutes by airport security.

Genres: Poetry, Nonfiction

126 pages, Paperback

Published December 31, 2018

About the author

Kazim Ali was born in the United Kingdom and has lived transnationally in the United States, Canada, India, France, and the Middle East. His books encompass multiple genres, includingthe volumes of poetry Inquisition, Sky Ward, winner of the Ohioana Book Award in Poetry; The Far Mosque, winner of Alice James Books’ New England/New York Award; The Fortieth Day; All One’s Blue; and the cross-genre texts Bright Felon and Wind Instrument. His novels include the recently published The Secret Room: A String Quartet and among his books of essays are the hybrid memoir Silver Road: Essays, Maps & Calligraphies and Fasting for Ramadan: Notes from a Spiritual Practice. He is also an accomplished translator (of Marguerite Duras, Sohrab Sepehri, Ananda Devi, Mahmoud Chokrollahi and others) and an editor of several anthologies and books of criticism. After a career in public policy and organizing, Ali taught at various colleges and universities, including Oberlin College, Davidson College, St. Mary's College of California, and Naropa University. He is currently a Professor of Literature at the University of California, San Diego. His newest books are a volume of three long poems entitled The Voice of Sheila Chandra and a memoir of his Canadian childhood, Northern Light.

Author photo by Tanya Rosen-Jones from Kazim Ali's press kit.

Reviews

[Barton Smock · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have told myself repeatedly, in context, that the brain is there to recount for the body how form was ripped from non-existence. I know to know wrongly. This Silver Road, by Kazim Ali…I’m not sure it’s real. By which I mean one can be drawn to a thing that leads to its own unprovable arrival. By which I mean I’m not sure it happened. I have been trying to write about it for weeks. I won’t say words failed me, but will say I have been worried the words will know how I’ve responded. Silver Road is spotless. Is deeply marked. I scrawled, or thought to my others, throughout:

weather the self

mother more creatively

death is an environmentalist

page 84, the poem ‘Theft’. return to it and say again fuck.

I have sought solitary permissions, and have done so to be convinced I’ve become. Ali corrects loneliness. This is the same book that changed my past.

[Mir · Rating 3 out of 5]

I forgot to review this a year ago, and now I don't remember it well enough.
I do remember that I was disappointed, and a bit bored. I wondered if this collection were intended for readers already fans of the author because it seemed, to be blunt, rather self-absorbed. Things he experiences, learns, people he meets, all are significant only in how they relate to himself. (I realized while reading this that I have a pet peev about people who use science and other factual material as personal metaphors.)

Also, this was on queer and POC reading lists, and while obviously queer POC don't have to write exclusively about those topics, that was sort of presented as a marketing point so I expected more about it. Instead my biographical impression was that his background was sheltered and bland and well off; he seemed to kind of take things like having money to travel and enjoy things for granted. So maybe sour grapes on my part? Maybe a generational gap? Anyway, this didn't really click for me.

[John Burroughs · Rating 5 out of 5]

The fifth Kazim Ali book I've read in the first eleven days of 2021. He's that good.

[Zoe]

i feel so deeply endeared by kazim ali - i think there's something about the hermit-y author writing closely & intimately about their process, their reading, their life, and how it translates into writing that just pulls on my heartstrings/ perhaps my ego. and then on top of this, he taught at oberlin so like i want to make my claim to him. i liked this book for its meanderingness and smartness and introspection, and mostly for these endearing qualities but i don't know if i thought it was super amazing. i think i found it an intriguing model for prose/poetry conglomeration and i liked the way it is in conversation (directly & indirectly) with authors i love like kate zambreno and bhanu kapil, but i found it a little too obscure a lot of times for me to glean a ton of meaning from it, or at other times it felt trite re: interconnectedness, the body, etc. it feels very much a product of its moment