At once literary and conversational, enigmatic and lucid, exuberant and wounded, these nimble poems wed the world of imagination to the world of experience. Every jaunty line explodes in at least two directions: devilishly up into the mind; ardently down into the heart.
Winner, 2006 Donald Hall Prize for Poetry Winner, 2008 Poetry Award from Mississippi Institute of Arts and Letters
Winner of the 2006 Donald Hall Prize in Poetry Selected by Terrance Hayes
Winner of the 2008 Poetry Award from Mississippi Institute of Arts and Letters
Angela Ball’s lyrical, wry, and rueful poems float on a river of incongruities on which we may find Ron Popeil, Lord Byron, and Rudyard Kipling sharing the same raft; they create a fascinating commerce between the sublime and the ridiculous.
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In these new poems, Angela Ball conducts a tender, eerie traffic in dreams of conversation. In this hotel, as in the splendid, ghostly hotel assemblages of Joseph Cornell, boundaries between image and viewer, poem and reader, life and afterlife, quietly disappear. In the eyes of the night clerk, all worlds become one. The vision is thrilling."
'I want to be you,' says a poem in Night Clerk at the Hotel of Both Worlds. Achilles, Apollinaire, Baudelaire, Beethoven, Breton, Borges, Byron, Coleridge, Cortez, de Chirico, Freud, Garcia Marquez, Guillaume, Kipling, Magellan, Marilyn Monroe, Menelaus, John Stuart Mill, Rimbaud, Larry Rivers, Sartre, Tolstoy, Pancho Villa, Wordsworth, and a few stellar others meet in the surprising pages of this desperately beautiful book. Thereafter they're free to mingle ever more strangely in one's newly ignited imagination.
Ball gives her reader a world as complex as its characters, as challenging as the dichotomies humans create. Ball brings energy and humor to subject matter that is both complex and trivial, making ['Night Clerk'} a book worth sleeping with.
Navigates nimbly between narrative and language and mapping the bright territory in which imagination suffuses the mundane. Droll, allusive, plaintive in an ironic pitch, Ball's lyrics defy reader expectations as they develop, dodging and burning to create vibrant sound patches and images.
Angela Ball’s poems, translations, and essays have appeared in Boulevard,Conduit, Poetry, The Oxford American, The Paris Review,The Atlantic Monthly, Ploughshares, The North American Review, The Partisan Review, The New Yorker, Grand Street, Field, Colorado Review, The New Republic, The Bennington Review, Threepenny Review, and elsewhere. She is the author of seven books of poetry, most recently Talking Pillow. The recipient of an Individual Artist’s Grant from the National Endowment for the Arts, she teaches in the Center for Writers, part of the School of Humanities at the University of Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg, where she lives with her dogs, Miss Bishop and Boy.