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9781555977504 English 1555977502 'Blackacre' is a legal fiction, a hypothetical estate. Monica Youn's fascinating, multifaceted new collection, Blackacre, uses the term to suggest landscape, legacy, what is allotted to each of us - a tract of land, a work of art, a heritage, a body, a destiny. What are the limits of the imagination's ability to transform what is given? On any particular acre, can we plant a garden? Youn brings her lawyerly intelligence and lyric gifts to bear on questions of fertility and barrenness as she attempts to understand her own desire - her own struggle - to conceive a child., * A Publishers Weekly Fall 2016 Top 10 Poetry Selection * *One of Brooklyn Magazine s 100 Books to Read in 2016 * Blackacre is a centuries-old legal fiction a placeholder name for a hypothetical estate. Treacherously lush or alluringly bleak, these poems reframe their subjects as landscape, as legacy a bereavement, an intimacy, a racial identity, a pubescence, a culpability, a diagnosis. With a surveyor s keenest tools, Youn marks the boundaries of the given, what we have been allotted: acreage that has been ruthlessly fenced, previously tenanted, ploughed and harvested, enriched and depleted. In the title sequence, the poet gleans a second crop from the field of Milton s great sonnet on his blindness: a lyric meditation on her barrenness, on her own desire her own struggle to conceive a child. What happens when the transformative imagination comes up against the limits of unalterable fact? ", * Longlisted for the 2016 National Book Award in Poetry * * A Publishers Weekly Fall 2016 Top 10 Poetry Selection * * One of Brooklyn Magazine 's 100 Books to Read in 2016 * "Blackacre" is a centuries-old legal fiction--a placeholder name for a hypothetical estate. Treacherously lush or alluringly bleak, these poems reframe their subjects as landscape, as legacy--a bereavement, an intimacy, a racial identity, a pubescence, a culpability, a diagnosis. With a surveyor's keenest tools, Youn marks the boundaries of the given, what we have been allotted: acreage that has been ruthlessly fenced, previously tenanted, ploughed and harvested, enriched and depleted. In the title sequence, the poet gleans a second crop from the field of Milton's great sonnet on his blindness: a lyric meditation on her barrenness, on her own desire--her own struggle--to conceive a child. What happens when the transformative imagination comes up against the limits of unalterable fact?, First coined in 1628, the term "Blackacre" is a legal fiction, a hypothetical estate. It is also a password among lawyers marking one's initiation into a centuries-old tradition of legal indoctrination. Monica Youn's fascinating, multifaceted new collection, Blackacre , uses the term to suggest landscape, legacy, what is allotted to each of us-a tract of land, a work of art, a heritage, a body, a destiny. What are the limits of the imagination's ability to transform what is given? On any particular acre, can we plant a garden? Found a city? Unearth a treasure? Build a home? Youn brings her lawyerly intelligence and lyric gifts to bear on questions of fertility and barrenness as she attempts to understand her own desire-her own struggle-to conceive a child. Where the shapemaking mind encounters unalterable fact, Blackacre explores new territories of art, meaning, and feeling.the trees all planted in the same month after the same fire each thick around as a man's wrist meticulously spaced grids cutting the sunshine into panels into planks and crossbeams of light an incandescent architecture that is the home that was promised you -from "Whiteacre", The brilliant new collection by Monica Youn following Ignatz , a finalist for the National Book Award the trees all planted in the same month after the same fire each thick around as a man's wrist meticulously spaced grids cutting the sunshine into panels into planks and crossbeams of light an incandescent architecture that is the home that was promised you --from "Whiteacre" "Blackacre" is a centuries-old legal fictiona placeholder name for a hypothetical estate. Treacherously lush or alluringly bleak, these poems reframe their subjects as landscape, as legacya bereavement, an intimacy, a racial identity, a pubescence, a culpability, a diagnosis. With a surveyor's keenest tools, Youn marks the boundaries of the given, what we have been allotted: acreage that has been ruthlessly fenced, previously tenanted, ploughed and harvested, enriched and depleted. In the title sequence, the poet gleans a second crop from the field of Milton's great sonnet on his blindness: a lyric meditation on her barrenness, on her own desireher own struggleto conceive a child. What happens when the transformative imagination comes up against the limits of unalterable fact?, the trees all planted in the same month after the same fire each thick around as a man's wristmeticulously spaced grids cutting the sunshine into panels into planks and crossbeams of lightan incandescent architecture that is the home that was promised you - from "Whiteacre"First coined in 1628, the term "blackacre" is a legal fiction, a hypothetical estate. It is also a password among lawyers marking one's initiation into a centuries-old tradition of legal indoctrination. Monica Youn's fascinating, multifaceted new collection, Blackacre , uses the term to suggest landscape, legacy, what is allotted to each of us - a tract of land, a work of art, a heritage, a body, a destiny. What are the limits of the imagination's ability to transform what is given? On any particular acre, can we plant a garden? Found a city? Unearth a treasure? Build a home? Youn brings her lawyerly intelligence and lyric gifts to bear on questions of fertility and barrenness as she attempts to understand her own desire - her own struggle - to conceive a child. Where the shape-making mind encounters unalterable fact, Blackacre explores new territories of art, meaning, and feeling.
9781555977504 English 1555977502 'Blackacre' is a legal fiction, a hypothetical estate. Monica Youn's fascinating, multifaceted new collection, Blackacre, uses the term to suggest landscape, legacy, what is allotted to each of us - a tract of land, a work of art, a heritage, a body, a destiny. What are the limits of the imagination's ability to transform what is given? On any particular acre, can we plant a garden? Youn brings her lawyerly intelligence and lyric gifts to bear on questions of fertility and barrenness as she attempts to understand her own desire - her own struggle - to conceive a child., * A Publishers Weekly Fall 2016 Top 10 Poetry Selection * *One of Brooklyn Magazine s 100 Books to Read in 2016 * Blackacre is a centuries-old legal fiction a placeholder name for a hypothetical estate. Treacherously lush or alluringly bleak, these poems reframe their subjects as landscape, as legacy a bereavement, an intimacy, a racial identity, a pubescence, a culpability, a diagnosis. With a surveyor s keenest tools, Youn marks the boundaries of the given, what we have been allotted: acreage that has been ruthlessly fenced, previously tenanted, ploughed and harvested, enriched and depleted. In the title sequence, the poet gleans a second crop from the field of Milton s great sonnet on his blindness: a lyric meditation on her barrenness, on her own desire her own struggle to conceive a child. What happens when the transformative imagination comes up against the limits of unalterable fact? ", * Longlisted for the 2016 National Book Award in Poetry * * A Publishers Weekly Fall 2016 Top 10 Poetry Selection * * One of Brooklyn Magazine 's 100 Books to Read in 2016 * "Blackacre" is a centuries-old legal fiction--a placeholder name for a hypothetical estate. Treacherously lush or alluringly bleak, these poems reframe their subjects as landscape, as legacy--a bereavement, an intimacy, a racial identity, a pubescence, a culpability, a diagnosis. With a surveyor's keenest tools, Youn marks the boundaries of the given, what we have been allotted: acreage that has been ruthlessly fenced, previously tenanted, ploughed and harvested, enriched and depleted. In the title sequence, the poet gleans a second crop from the field of Milton's great sonnet on his blindness: a lyric meditation on her barrenness, on her own desire--her own struggle--to conceive a child. What happens when the transformative imagination comes up against the limits of unalterable fact?, First coined in 1628, the term "Blackacre" is a legal fiction, a hypothetical estate. It is also a password among lawyers marking one's initiation into a centuries-old tradition of legal indoctrination. Monica Youn's fascinating, multifaceted new collection, Blackacre , uses the term to suggest landscape, legacy, what is allotted to each of us-a tract of land, a work of art, a heritage, a body, a destiny. What are the limits of the imagination's ability to transform what is given? On any particular acre, can we plant a garden? Found a city? Unearth a treasure? Build a home? Youn brings her lawyerly intelligence and lyric gifts to bear on questions of fertility and barrenness as she attempts to understand her own desire-her own struggle-to conceive a child. Where the shapemaking mind encounters unalterable fact, Blackacre explores new territories of art, meaning, and feeling.the trees all planted in the same month after the same fire each thick around as a man's wrist meticulously spaced grids cutting the sunshine into panels into planks and crossbeams of light an incandescent architecture that is the home that was promised you -from "Whiteacre", The brilliant new collection by Monica Youn following Ignatz , a finalist for the National Book Award the trees all planted in the same month after the same fire each thick around as a man's wrist meticulously spaced grids cutting the sunshine into panels into planks and crossbeams of light an incandescent architecture that is the home that was promised you --from "Whiteacre" "Blackacre" is a centuries-old legal fictiona placeholder name for a hypothetical estate. Treacherously lush or alluringly bleak, these poems reframe their subjects as landscape, as legacya bereavement, an intimacy, a racial identity, a pubescence, a culpability, a diagnosis. With a surveyor's keenest tools, Youn marks the boundaries of the given, what we have been allotted: acreage that has been ruthlessly fenced, previously tenanted, ploughed and harvested, enriched and depleted. In the title sequence, the poet gleans a second crop from the field of Milton's great sonnet on his blindness: a lyric meditation on her barrenness, on her own desireher own struggleto conceive a child. What happens when the transformative imagination comes up against the limits of unalterable fact?, the trees all planted in the same month after the same fire each thick around as a man's wristmeticulously spaced grids cutting the sunshine into panels into planks and crossbeams of lightan incandescent architecture that is the home that was promised you - from "Whiteacre"First coined in 1628, the term "blackacre" is a legal fiction, a hypothetical estate. It is also a password among lawyers marking one's initiation into a centuries-old tradition of legal indoctrination. Monica Youn's fascinating, multifaceted new collection, Blackacre , uses the term to suggest landscape, legacy, what is allotted to each of us - a tract of land, a work of art, a heritage, a body, a destiny. What are the limits of the imagination's ability to transform what is given? On any particular acre, can we plant a garden? Found a city? Unearth a treasure? Build a home? Youn brings her lawyerly intelligence and lyric gifts to bear on questions of fertility and barrenness as she attempts to understand her own desire - her own struggle - to conceive a child. Where the shape-making mind encounters unalterable fact, Blackacre explores new territories of art, meaning, and feeling.