Whirr & Click
- Publisher
- Frontenac House
- Initial publish date
- Apr 2013
- Category
- Canadian, Women Authors
-
Paperback / softback
- ISBN
- 9781897181867
- Publish Date
- Apr 2013
- List Price
- $15.95
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Description
Micheline Maylor’s many-textured poems explore the liminal space where finite life and infinite time expand and contract into one another. In a duet of contrasts, memory, coming of age, danger, the erotic, and love twine into elegy and wonder. Time plays a featuring role and acts to freeze moments exactly as they arrive and simultaneously stretches experience into ungraspable infinity.
About the author
Micheline Maylor is a Poet Laureate Emeritus of Calgary (2016-18) and was the Calgary Public Library Author in Residence in fall 2016. She teaches creative writing at Mount Royal University. Her most recent book Little Wildheart (UAlberta Press) was long-listed for both the Pat Lowther and Raymond Souster awards. Find her online at www.michelinemaylor.com.
Awards
- Short-listed, League of Canadian Poets Pat Lowther Award
Editorial Reviews
Whether fierce or tender, direct or oblique, the poems in Whirr and Click are bold in their exposures and generous in their doorways. The final long poem, “Starfish,” is one of the most moving and memorable elegies I have read. One finishes the poem, and the book, feeling one has come to know many people, including oneself.
– Stephanie Bolster
We read the poems of Micheline Maylor and touch the urgency of a sharp and shifting mind, sometimes playful, sometimes ineffably sad. She is a poet to read and wait for.
– Patrick Lane
Micheline Maylor writes poems with dash and élan, attack poems, full of desire, heart, dangerous men and revenge. A woman ties her husband to the kitchen chair and whips him with the letters of former lovers (and he watches the “black serpent of her hair flickering its tongue down her back”). “Click” is a gorgeous orchestration of dream, desire, dogs hunting, and the epic squeeze of time as the grains of sand drop through the funnel of the hourglass. These lines make you ache with envy.
– Douglas Glover
