Kind Words Abound Zorba

From the Bloof Books newsies:

A perceptive review of Danielle Pafunda's My Zorba by Caroline Depalma may be found in Coldfront:

Pafunda addresses you indirectly; she relies on shocked fragments, on jagged rhythms and imagery [...] on your ability to intuit a whole, not your ability to apportion its parts. There are times when you won’t know what the speaker is getting at just yet. Mirrors reflect the most insignificant details right beside the ostensibly significant. Does this require too much imagining on our part? Is it worth the leap? Lay your cash on the table beside her hairbrush and hatchet; this isn’t a disappointing gamble.


Another astute, yet different, take on My Zorba appears in Tarpaulin Sky by John Findura:

The book vacillates between the drawbridge and the gangplank, just as Zorba morphs between a “he” and a “she.” As each poem unfolds, there is a sign of welcome, but as quickly as it is noticed, next to it is the gangplank leading us off into the murky depths. It is an apt metaphor for reading this book as each turn of the page sucks us in deeper.