Showing posts with label So Dark For April. Show all posts
Showing posts with label So Dark For April. Show all posts

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Keith Snyder reads "Prayer for the Man Who Mugged My Father, 72" by Charles Harper Webb

Several blog tour participants were moved by Charles Harper Webb's "Prayer for the Man Who Mugged My Father, 72". Keith Snyder was moved to create an audio presentation with which we end the tour.

Hear Keith read "Prayer for the Man Who Mugged My Father, 72" on SoundCloud.

My thanks again to the participants and audience. I hope we've sparked a lasting appreciation for poetry.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Ali Karim on The Lineup #4

For the twenty-sixth stop on So Dark For April blog tour, thriller writer, reviewer, and personal friend Ali Karim chimes in at his blog, Existentialist Man.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Thursday, April 21, 2011

James R. Winter on The Lineup #4

For the twenty-fourth stop on the So Dark For April blog tour, author and reviewer James R. Winter spotlights "mitralleur" by Michael Casey as an example of how long crime can go unnoticed.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Wallace Stroby on The Lineup

For the twenty-third stop on the So Dark For April blog tour, New Jersey journalist and crime novelist Wallace Stroby looks back on his contribution to last year's Lineup #3 and surveys The Lineup #4.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Anne Frasier on The Lineup

The 22nd stop on the So Dark For April blog tour is Theresa Weir/Anne Frasier's Monkey with a Pen. Anne voices her support for The Lineup and shares her poem "Home" from The Lineup #3.

Plus, if you're wondering whether The Lineup is coming to e-readers, a comment on her post has the answer.

Monday, April 18, 2011

John Kenyon asks, "How could Ken Bruen not be in The Lineup?"

A rhetorical question, of course. Ken embodies writing poetically about crime like no other. He had a poem in the inaugural Lineup, and his return in Issue 4 with "Funeral: Of The Wino" inspired Kenyon's post, the twenty-first stop on the So Dark For April blog tour.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Peter Linari reads "The Balance Lost" by Steve Weddle

The Lineup's third episode of CrimeWAV airs today.

Here's a behind-the-scenes video of actor Peter Linari reading "The Balance Lost" by Steve Weddle, recorded by Keith Snyder. Our thanks to Peter, Keith, and CrimeWAV host Seth Harwood:

Friday, April 15, 2011

From David Corbett

For the seventeenth stop on the So Dark For April blog tour, the following post from contributor David Corbett:

Gerald So asked me to comment about the experience of being in LINEUP #4, or on why I wrIte poetry, or how it differs from fiction. Here’s what I managed to dig up from the sludge of my confusion on such issues.

Why write poetry?

Poetry keeps you humble. It keeps you honest.

Nowhere are words—or intentions—more naked than in a poem.

A poem is like a new lover, one you don't yet quite trust. She lulls you, tricks you, brings you up short. Tells you exactly what you need to know, but don't really want to hear. Which is why you're crazy about her.

Poems are pools in which everything is deceptively clear, all the way to the dark cold bottom.

A poem reminds you that it’s not just the devil but the divine that’s in the details. Small things are sacred—just by being there. Or vanishing. Because sometimes a poem resembles the lost thing that one curious morning you come across where you least expected it. And sometimes almost wish you hadn't.

But a poem about crime? Isn't crime too melodramatic, too inherently huge? An aria, maybe. (Ask Tosca.) A rock song, sure. (Cue the feedback and crash cymbals.) But a poem?

As I read my fellow contributors' poems in this collection, I saw again and again how so many sought to capture that shock of silence either before or after the violation. The pinprick daze, the web of static, the moment when you're not quite sure what happened, or are stunned as to why.

Not the melodrama but the mystery of it, in the larger sense. The small weird horror of violence, the gaping hole it leaves in things, the tumbling emptiness just beyond the fabric of normality that crime always betrays.

The narrators in these poems, like the poets themselves, stand just this side of dumbstruck. They know words are cheap. They strive to use them wisely. I'm proud and humbled to have my work included among theirs.