“The fantastical and strange second collection from Farnoosh Fathi evokes André Breton’s surrealism and the linguistic playfulness of Gertrude Stein…. Enthusiasts of formal innovation and linguistic play will savor this astonishing volume.” —Publishers Weekly, starred review
“Specializing in moments of linguistic collision, Fathi, in just a few deft syllables, can trigger a riot of associations and sonic improvisations that extend beyond the ironic, beyond belletristic distractions, into the nuanced tonal inflections of a self and culture auscultated.” —Christine Hume, Boston Review
“Farnoosh Fathi is looking for a most vulgar self-satisfaction in writing… ‘What others rule operatic was for me finally accurate!’; ‘My legs espalier’; ‘No one who means it knows it.’ The comparisons are discontent. These are horological poems. They appeal to life’s cycles—to Fathi’s own greatness.” —Corina Copp
“Poetry, like the humours, like the soul, can be grasped only when its exuberance exceeds the body. Granny Cloud is that exuberance, thus illustrating the impossibility of finding form. This book is the Tower of Babel for our generation! The poems wander off the page, and walk, as Saint Francis did, to call to birds.” —Darcie Dennigan
“Ah, ‘what have I done in my able meter?,’ a drily dismayed Farnoosh Fathi asks herself. A jubilant lot, I’d say… Poetry too radically rambunctious, too linguistically lubricious to be defined by even her, let alone by this admiring ‘ogre kissing guesses’—who can, however, declare enthusiastically that she deserves as wide an audience as possible, especially among the extravagant.” —Stephen Yenser
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