ANNIE BOUTELLE, born and raised in Scotland, was educated at the University of St. Andrews and New York University. She teaches in the English Department at Smith College, where she founded the Poetry Center. She lives with her husband in western Massachusetts.
"From first to last, How They Fell is a stunning collection;
Boutelle's is a voice the reader trusts--the music unfolding
syllable by syllable, the craft impeccable, and the poems bold,
wise, sensual. There's vision here, and love for the world that
was, and the world that is--the poet asking the reader to
contemplate "who / we might have been, or who dreamed / us up... /
and who / were we, and what might not be left?" She reminds us "how
silly / to think the mask could hold. / But sweet--let's not
discount / the sweetness." How They Fell is a book to savor, to
celebrate to come back to over and over."--Carol Potter
"How They Fell reminds us that as soon as we are born we are
plummeting toward a mortal end. This book, however, brims with an
artistic exhilaration and vitality to our bewildering losses and
regret-filled sorrows. . . .Annie Boutelle thrills us with a
nuanced and profoundly self-reliant exploration of an idea from
which we so often avert our eyes: that death is, as Stevens wrote,
the mother of beauty."--Fred Marchant, author of The Looking
House
A fiery intelligence, at times a fury, empower this remarkable
book. After invoking the ancient sibyl, the poems, as if crossing a
stony threshold, enter a communal space, the voice deepening into
another register one resonant with an older world, in touch with
what is feral in us, where the erotic and the demonic meet, and the
weight falling, and lightness rising, and pain/and honey mixed .
These are beautiful, fearless poems, their language equal to the
most fearsome occasions. Eleanor Wilner"
From first to last, How They Fell is a stunning collection;
Boutelle s is a voice the reader trusts the music unfolding
syllable by syllable, the craft impeccable, and the poems bold,
wise, sensual. There s vision here, and love for the world that
was, and the world that is the poet asking the reader to
contemplate who / we might have been, or who dreamed / us up... /
and who / were we, and what might not be left? She reminds us how
silly / to think the mask could hold. / But sweet let s not
discount / the sweetness. How They Fell is a book to savor, to
celebrate to come back to over and over. Carol Potter"
How They Fell reminds us that as soon as we are born we are
plummeting toward a mortal end. This book, however, brims with an
artistic exhilaration and vitality to our bewildering losses and
regret-filled sorrows. . . .Annie Boutelle thrills us with a
nuanced and profoundly self-reliant exploration of an idea from
which we so often avert our eyes: that death is, as Stevens wrote,
the mother of beauty. Fred Marchant, author of The Looking
House"
"A fiery intelligence, at times a fury, empower this remarkable
book. After invoking the ancient sibyl, the poems, as if crossing a
stony threshold, enter a communal space, the voice deepening into
another register--one resonant with an older world, in touch with
what is feral in us, where the erotic and the demonic meet, "and
the weight falling, and lightness rising, and pain/and honey
mixed--." These are beautiful, fearless poems, their language equal
to the most fearsome occasions."--Eleanor Wilner
 |
Ask a Question About this Product More... |
|
