About the Author:
Kate Greenstreet is the author of CASE SENSITIVE (Ahsahta Press, 2006), THE LAST 4 THINGS (Ahsahta, 2009), and three chapbooks, Learning the Language (Etherdome Press, 2005), Rushes (above/ground press, 2007), and This is why I hurt you (Lame House Press, 2008). Statues, a Big Game Books tinyside, was available briefly in 2006. In Paradise there is no art, a boxed set of 12 cards (fragments of writing & art), was published by Flash+Card in 2007. Greenstreet's poems have appeared most recently in FENCE, JUBILAT, Court Green, Harp & Altar, Make, Hotel Amerika, Saltgrass, Columbia Poetry Review, and in a chaplet published by WinteRed Press. New work is forthcoming in the DENVER QUARTERLY, PingPong, The Laurel Review, VOLT, and Cannibal. Her poems can also be found in the anthologies Diagram.2 (New Michigan Press, 2006), The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel - Second Floor (No Tell Books, 2007), and Letters to the World (Red Hen Press, 2008). She received a Fellowship from the NJ State Council on the Arts in 2003. Greenstreet is also a painter and graphic designer. Her blog (now resting) (www.kickingwind.com) includes interviews with quite a few first-book poets and some other people too. She is married and lives in New Jersey, no kids, no pool, no pets.
Review:
This is all strangely familiar. To use one of its own images, reading this book is like opening a folding table after closing a door. There are two kinds of hinge, we might say. You feel the grammar in your hands and your shoulders. You begin to see how the table gets you from the eggs to the window. It just stands there. Perhaps this is, as Greenstreet suggests, like a dream you sometimes have. But (and this is the thing) it is also like going for a walk or building some intricate part of a boat. It is not the place of the poet to decide.
A poem is not a place where a decision is made and this is certainly no time to explain yourself. "This is what went on here," Wittgenstein taught us, "Laugh if you can." Greenstreet understands this, and her lines do sometimes make you laugh. But not always. She says, "Do a dangerous thing and you re in danger. That's how it works." She doesn't tell you to live dangerously; she just tells you how it works. Or let me put it another way: she understands why you want to go to the sea but she does not know whether you will go.
The whole issue in these pages is one of arrangement. It is about the idea that things have places, "pages and pages of places," in fact. Greenstreet puts words in these places sometimes. Sometimes not. Is a blank page also an arrangement of words? In what way is a blank page with no marks on it like a human body? Or is it like water? Suppose we had to choose: like a body or like water? Don t just sit there, this book seems to say, let's have a look at where things go.
A poem is made by composition, by putting things together, and when you read this book your hands tingle. The Last 4 Things brings craftsmanship to reverie; it turns dreaming into meaningful work. It is a serious approach to the grammar of our emotions and you do well to read it with your hands. --Thomas Basbøll
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