Audible会員は対象作品が聴き放題、2か月無料体験キャンペーン中
-
Machete
- Poems
- ナレーター： Tomás Q. Morín
- 再生時間： 59 分
商品を追加できませんでした
カートに追加できませんでした。
ウィッシュリストに追加できませんでした。
ほしい物リストの削除に失敗しました。
ポッドキャストのフォローに失敗しました
ポッドキャストのフォロー解除に失敗しました
聴き放題対象外タイトルです。Audible会員登録で、非会員価格の30％OFFで購入できます。
Machete
批評家のレビュー
"[Morín’s] writing cuts to the core with electrifying force . . . A promising and powerful new voice in American poetry, the Texas native arrives with a revealing anthology about suffering, self-identity and the trivial occasions that tie one’s existence together . . . If you’re not a big fan of poetry, Machete will make you one."—Nicholas Addison Thomas, The Free Lance-Star
"In his new collection, Machete, Mórin questions how to prepare his son for life in modern America. He explores the country’s legacy of racism and the importance of joy as a survival tool."—Texas Standard
“Wonderfully intimate . . . Highlights Morín’s versatility as a poet who fuses both content and form . . . I would rush out to buy a copy of Machete just to have a poem like ‘Two Dolphins’ on hand. Not only was I captivated by the sheer beauty and dexterity of the poem but I was struck by how rare it is to come across poems about fatherhood . . . If Morín wields language like a machete, it’s to slash through ignorance, to clear a path for strollering his children onto a sidewalk, safe from traffic.”—Julie Poole, Texas Observer
あらすじ・解説
This fresh voice in American poetry wields lyric pleasure and well-honed insight against a cruel century that would kill us with a thousand cuts.
"Morín's writing uses the mundane details of everyday life...as a jumping-off point for creating fascinating and philosophical worlds." (LitHub)
"Dios aprieta, pero no ahorca" ("God squeezes, but He doesn't strangle")—the epigraph of Machete—sets the stage for a powerful poet who summons a variety of ways to endure life when there's an invisible hand at your throat. Tomás Morín hails from the coastal plains of Texas, and explores a world where identity and place shift like that ever-changing shore.
In these poems, culture crashes like waves and leaves behind Billie Holiday and the CIA, disco balls and Dante, the Bible and Jerry Maguire. They are long, lean, and dazzle in their telling: "Whiteface" is a list of instructions for people stopped by the police; "Duct Tape" lauds our domestic life from the point of view of the tape itself.
One part Groucho Marx, one part Job, Morín considers our obsession with suffering—"the pain in which we trust"—and finds that the best answer to our predicament is sometimes anger, sometimes laughter, but always via the keen line between them that may be the sharpest weapon we have.