Produktdetaljer
Biografisk notat
Ada Lim贸n is the author of The Hurting Kind, as well as five other collections of poems. These include, most recently, The Carrying, which won the National Book Critics Circle Award and was named a finalist for the PEN/Jean Stein Book Award, and Bright Dead Things, which was named a finalist for the National Book Award, the National Book Critics Circle Award, and the Kingsley Tufts Award. Lim贸n is a recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship, and her work has appeared in the New Yorker, the New York Times, and American Poetry Review, among others. She is the new host of American Public Media's weekday poetry podcast The Slowdown. Born and raised in California, she now lives in Lexington, Kentucky. https://www.adalimon.net/By far Lim贸n's most self- and world-examining book, <i>The Hurting Kind</i> captures the hidden, marginal forces of kindness and suffering around us . . . a set of astoundingly moving poems in which the self becomes an inclusive vehicle for bridging the hurting gaps between generations, ideas and living things . . . If you only read one book this autumn, make it this one
Guardian
I can always rely on an Ada Lim贸n poem to give me hope, but Lim贸n's poems don't give us the kind of facile Hallmark hope; rather, her hope is hard-earned, even laced with grief or happiness . . . Lim贸n is a master at making a simple idea (that of hindsight, seeing the bright side of things) askew. "And so I have/two brains now," she writes. "Two entirely different brains." Lim贸n gives us two brains in her poems, too, revealing new ways to view the world
- Victoria Chang, New York Times Magazine
In one of Ada Lim贸n's early poems, she asks, "Shouldn't we make fire out of everyday things?" For the past 16 years, that's exactly what she's done. [She is] fearlessly confessional and technically brilliant
Washington Post
These poems home in on how grief makes us human . . . [Lim贸n] reminds readers that we are nothing without connection. If you haven't read poetry in a while, this volume might be what you need to reconnect with the form
Los Angeles Times
Brilliant . . . Throughout is the trademark wonder, and blown-out perceptivity, underscoring Lim贸n's clarion melancholy
San Francisco Chronicle
Lim贸n is a poet of ecstatic revelation
- Tracy K. Smith, Guardian
An astonishing collection about interconnectedness - between the human and nonhuman, ancestors and ourselves - from National Book Critics Circle Award winner and National Book Award finalist Ada Lim贸n.
'I have always been too sensitive, a weeper / from a long line of weepers,' writes Lim贸n. 'I am the hurting kind.' What does it mean to be the hurting kind? To be sensitive not only to the world's pain and joys, but to the meanings that bend in the scrim between the natural world and the human world? To divine the relationships between us all? To perceive ourselves in other beings - and to know that those beings are resolutely their own, that they 'do not / care to be seen as symbols'?
With Lim贸n's remarkable ability to trace thought, The Hurting Kind explores those questions - incorporating others' stories and ways of knowing, making surprising turns, and always reaching a place of startling insight. These poems slip through the seasons, teeming with horses and kingfishers and the gleaming eyes of fish. And they honour parents, stepparents, and grandparents: the sacrifices made, the separate lives lived, the tendernesses extended to a hurting child; the abundance, in retrospect, of having two families.
Along the way, we glimpse loss. There are flashes of the pandemic, ghosts whose presence manifests in unexpected memories and the mysterious behaviour of pets left behind. But The Hurting Kind is filled, above all, with connection and the delight of being in the world. 'Slippery and waddle thieving my tomatoes still / green in the morning's shade,' writes Lim贸n of a groundhog in her garden, 'she is doing what she can to survive.'
'Lim贸n is a poet of ecstatic revelation' Guardian
'I can always rely on an Ada Lim贸n poem to give me hope . . . Lim贸n gives us two brains in her poems, too, revealing new ways to view the world' New York Times Magazine
'Ada Lim贸n is a bright light in a dark time. Her keen attention to the natural world is only matched by her incredible emotional honesty' Vanity Fair
Praise for The Hurting Kind
'I can always rely on an Ada Lim贸n poem to give me hope, but Lim贸n's poems don't give us the kind of facile Hallmark hope; rather, her hope is hard-earned, even laced with grief or happiness . . . Lim贸n is a master at making a simple idea (that of hindsight, seeing the bright side of things) askew. "And so I have/two brains now," she writes. "Two entirely different brains." Lim贸n gives us two brains in her poems, too, revealing new ways to view the world' Victoria Chang, New York Times Magazine
'In one of Ada Lim贸n's early poems, she asks, "Shouldn't we make fire out of everyday things?" For the past 16 years, that's exactly what she's done. [She is] fearlessly confessional and technically brilliant' Washington Post
'These poems home in on how grief makes us human . . . [Lim贸n] reminds readers that we are nothing without connection. If you haven't read poetry in a while, this volume might be what you need to reconnect with the form' Los Angeles Times
'Brilliant . . . Throughout is the trademark wonder, and blown-out perceptivity, underscoring Lim贸n's clarion melancholy' San Francisco Chronicle
'Lim贸n responds in her poetry to what she identifies as an ecological imperative to re-describe our relationship to "nature" in a manner that isn't merely instrumental. The moving personal dramas that her poems detail can never be separated from the landscape in which they occur . . . Consequently, her poetry, which can feel so intimate and self-revealing, is almost constantly political at the same time . . . There are endless things to say about the articulate, complex emotional resonance of the poems in this book. Still, what Lim贸n says about "a life" is true as well for her book: "You can't sum it up."' Forrest Gander, Brooklyn Rail
An astonishing collection about interconnectedness - between the human and nonhuman, ancestors and ourselves - from National Book Critics Circle Award winner and National Book Award finalist Ada Lim贸n.
'I have always been too sensitive, a weeper / from a long line of weepers,' writes Lim贸n. 'I am the hurting kind.' What does it mean to be the hurting kind? To be sensitive not only to the world's pain and joys, but to the meanings that bend in the scrim between the natural world and the human world? To divine the relationships between us all? To perceive ourselves in other beings - and to know that those beings are resolutely their own, that they 'do not / care to be seen as symbols'?
With Lim贸n's remarkable ability to trace thought, The Hurting Kind explores those questions - incorporating others' stories and ways of knowing, making surprising turns, and always reaching a place of startling insight. These poems slip through the seasons, teeming with horses and kingfishers and the gleaming eyes of fish. And they honor parents, stepparents, and grandparents: the sacrifices made, the separate lives lived, the tendernesses extended to a hurting child; the abundance, in retrospect, of having two families.
Along the way, we glimpse loss. There are flashes of the pandemic, ghosts whose presence manifests in unexpected memories and the mysterious behavior of pets left behind. But The Hurting Kind is filled, above all, with connection and the delight of being in the world. 'Slippery and waddle thieving my tomatoes still / green in the morning's shade,' writes Lim贸n of a groundhog in her garden, 'she is doing what she can to survive.'