Is Grief
is the Thing with Feathers
by British writer Max Porter a novel, a collection of poems,
both a novel and poetry, neither one, or some new literary genre we haven’t
seen before?
It’s
officially classified as a novel, but it doesn’t read like any novel you’ve
read before. It moves, jumps, shifts, and occasionally leaps between three
narrative voices – Dad, Boys, and Crow.
Physically,
the text looks like a poetry collection. Sort of. It’s divided into three parts
(like Caesar’s Gaul?) but contains no chapters, unless you count a poem as a
chapter (I don’t). It begins with a corrected version of an Emily Dickinson
poem.
To
continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak
Poetry.
