I read six books in June. I’m not the kind of person who has interesting, articulable thoughts about every book I read. I aspire to be, but I’m not. But I have enough, I think, to fill 17 syllables each.
Haiku Reviews, which are exactly what they sound like, was a column I started in Vinyl Tap, my college radio station’s semesterly magazine, nigh on seven years ago now; I’m like 70% sure it still exists. Haiku Reviews is probably the closest thing I have to a legacy there.
So now, in the spirit of “ya gotta start somewhere,” I have thought(s) on six books, seventeen syllables each. Enjoy!
The Rings of Saturn (Sebald)
a sentence is a
road, and boy! does Sebald love
to walk and walk and
Tar Baby (Morrison)
not so forceful, not
so fiery, but i think
up there with her best
The Summer Book (Jansson)
through older eyes and
younger: the child, the island,
the seasons changing
Light in August (Faulkner)
structural wonder;
threads unspooling out into
history’s pale void
Ellen Foster (Gibbons)
laugh-out-loud bummer;
trouble: dickensian heaps;
woe, the southern child!
Books Are Made Out of Books (Crews)
reread, true nerd shit.
it makes you want to write it
makes you need to read.
The Big Sleep (Chandler)
raymond chandler writes
like a muppet with a grudge;
zany, bitter, fun!
this is great!
i love the summer book