A hopeful, timely new collection of poems that take up our ever-evolving relationship with technology.
Starting from an urge to reconcile the human need for stability with what's happening in a constantly fluid "now," Dreampad, Trillium Book Award for Poetry winner poet Jeff Latosik's startling new collection, ponders whether an ideal for living is viable when we're not sure we can say yes or no to anything in a world that's growing increasingly ephemeral and entangled with the virtual.
These poems, however, are a salvo--or "protest" in the most useful sense of that word--a reminder we might already own a verbal architecture to express the difficulty of being alive in a world that can, could, and might still even be humane, loving, habitable.
About the author
Jeff Latosik is the author of Tiny, Frantic, Stronger, a collection of poems that won the 2011 Trillium Award for poetry and was shortlisted for the Gerald Lampert award and the Relit award. His work has been published widely across Canada in magazines such as The Walrus, Maisonneuve, and the Literary Review of Canada, and journals such as the Malahat Review, Grain, and Prairie Fire. He is the winner of This Magazine's Great Literary Hunt (2008) and the P.K. Page Founder's award (2010) and a selection of his poems was shortlisted for the Bronwen Wallace award (2009). He teaches English in Toronto.
Praise for Jeff Latosik's Dreampad:
"Jeff Latosik makes visible the digital 'labyrinth of looking' and clicking, where 'music seems to spy' on all of us. In Dreampad, the intricate interiority of the speaker interfaces with relentless technology. Memories are retrieved from the cloud. Tenderness blossoms in the matrix. Latosik's poems—inquisitive, dazzling—warn against and show us how to survive in the noise and blur of Now." —Eduardo C. Corral, author of Slow Lightning
"The poems in Jeff Latosik's Dreampad, like the technologies they reference, sing but also sample, reverberate, crackle with static, and sound alarms. There are 'keyboard taps and singular cash register riffs,' 'noise machines set to heartbeat,' and the titular pillow, a product that plays soothing music. The 'touchpad of options' in this book includes the lyric and the conversational, the analytical and the imagistic, and Latosik deftly balances these approaches and impulses. This poet is truly inventive, and what he offers us in Dreampad is a 'remixing' of this life as we know it, 'a clarifying/of the predicament.' Suddenly there is so much to learn, so much that poems—these poems—have to tell us." —Maggie Smith, author of Good Bones
"These leaping, associative poems move in 'spacetime,' where everything is simultaneiously connected and disconnected, and memory cuts in and out on a spotty signal. 'It's not that I have something to say,' writes Latosik, 'It's that an ailment made a voice.' And what a voice! Combining a big reach for liminal spaces with thrillingly precise description, his poems move nimbly between the ephemeral and the familiar, even when the bridge between them is shaking: '. . . reality . . . kept moving in and out of view . . ." he reminds us, '. . . as if stuck on one of those terrible hot-dog carousels.'" —Julie Bruck, author of Monkey Ranch