Utvidet returrett til 31. januar 2025

Bøker av Aimee Nezhukumatathil

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  • av Aimee Nezhukumatathil
    227,-

    Poetry. As three worlds collide, a mother's Philippines, a father's India and the poet's contemporary America, the resulting impressions are chronicled in this collection of incisive and penetrating verse. The writer weaves her words carefully into a wise and affecting embroidery that celebrates the senses while remaining down-to-earth and genuine. "We see that everything is in fact miracle fruit, including this book itself"-Andrew Hudgins.

  • av Aimee Nezhukumatathil
    223,-

    "A lyrical book of short essays about food, offering a banquet of tastes, smells, memories, associations, and marvelous curiosities from nature."--

  • av Aimee Nezhukumatathil
    240,-

  • - In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks and Other Astonishments
    av Aimee Nezhukumatathil
    149,-

    An award-winning poet's nonfiction debut - essays about the natural world, and the way its inhabitants can teach, support and inspire us.

  • av Aimee Nezhukumatathil
    235,-

    The astonishing second book by a lively and inventive American poet of Filipina-Indian descent. Naomi Shihab Nye says of this book, "Aimee Nezhukumatathil's poems are . . . ripe, funny and fresh. They're the fullness of days, deliciously woven of heart and verve, rich with sources and elements-animals, insects, sugar, cardamom, legends, countries, relatives, soaps, fruits-taste and touch. I love the nubby layerings of lines, luscious textures and constructions. . . . She knows that many worlds may live in one house. . . ."

  • av Aimee Nezhukumatathil
    235,-

    From Publishers Weekly:Nezhukumatathil's fourth book is fascinated with the small mechanisms of being, whether natural, personal, or imagined. Everything from eating eels in the Ozark mountains to the history of red dye finds a rich life in her poems. At times her lush settings and small stories are reminiscent of fairy tales ("The frog who wanted to see the sea was mostly disappointed"), while at others Nezhukumatathil speaks with resonance and fierceness: "The center of my hands boiled/ with blossoms when we made a family. I would never flee that garden. I swear to/ you here and now: If I ever go missing, know that I am trying to come home." Even as the poems jump from the Philippines to India to New York, they still take their time, stopping to notice that "there is no mystery on water/ greater than the absence of rust," and to draw small but wonderful parallels: "I loved you dark & late. The crocus have found ways to push up & say this/ too."

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