Astrid Lorange

I've been in this room before: Astrid Lorange

Amelia Dale

Astrid Lorange reading at SOd party, Frontyard, September 18, 2016

On a very rainy afternoon on the 18th of September, in a shared art space in Marrickville, Sydney (Frontyard), nine poets read their work: Astrid Lorange, Pam Brown, Alison Coppe, Emily Stewart, Yasmin Heisler, Holly Isemonger, catherine vidler, Dave Drayton and Nick Whittock. The reading was organized by SOd Press, an Australian small press focusing on radical poetics: a press begun by a.j. carruthers and now a collaborative project between myself and him.

The index of 'Tender Buttons'

Astrid Lorange

As Tan Lin says, Tender Buttons is an index:

As Gertrude Stein recognized in Tender Buttons, which constitutes the first literary work of non-fiction to function like a blind index or (colorless) idea that has been typographically reset, the index is a poetical text and a fictional text it sits next to, like a caption in reverse, or a dining room table adjacent to an idea of sexuality, or the temperature of the room in which someone else’s writing took place.[1]

Into the Field: Astrid Lorange and Eddie Hopely

Into the Field, hosted by Stephen McLaughlin

LISTEN TO THE SHOW
Astrid Lorange and Eddie Hopely are a pair of poets living in Sydney, Australia with strong links to the Philly and New York writing scenes. Eddie has an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Temple University and currently works as a freelance editor, research assistant, and independent scholar. Astrid recently finished her Ph.D. at the University of Technology, Sydney and has taken a position as lecturer at the College of Fine Arts, University of New South Wales. Both are members of the assignment-based writing group Collective Task.

July 25, 2013

Recently in Jacket2

Near/Miss launches

Charles Bernstein

New from University of Chicago Press: paper, cloth, e-book
Audible.com has also published an audiobook of my reading of the full work.

What happened to you?: On what is lost and what is possible in exile

An Interview with Sheila Black

Jessica Suzanne Stokes

Sheila Black, a woman with dark hair and a black top smiles at the camera

Crippled they called us when I was young
later the word was disabled and then differently abled,
but those were all names given by outsiders,
none of whom could imagine
that the crooked body they spoke of,
the body, which made walking difficult
and running practically impossible,
except as a kind of dance, a sideways looping
like someone about to fall
headlong down and hug the earth, that body
they tried so hard to fix, straighten was simply mine[1]

Review of Ahmad Almallah, 'Bitter English' (Chicago, 2019)

Al Filreis

Review of Ahmad Almallah, Bitter English (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2019), 87 pp.

He stumbles as he says pretty much anything to himself — always while successfully conveying such stumbling to us. He feels that he owes everything to one place but knows that that place is “not here” - not the here of the place where he writes, not even the new “here”-ness the poem makes. How can a poet occupying the space of a page, the classic “here” where even a lost poet can call home, be alienated even from that “here”? The typical poetic existential “here I am” becomes a matter, always, of forgetting and remembering both. (It’s significant that one of the muses here is the poet’s mother, she who suffers from memory loss.)

Review of Ahmad Almallah, Bitter English (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2019), 87 pp.

Note: This review was given as an introduction to Almallah's reading at the Kelly Writers House on October 15, 2019.