M. Sarki is a GR friend, with whom I share a love of Walser and Sebald, among others. He's also a talented poet and writer, who sent me a copy of his latest work in return for an honest review. It's a pleasure to report that I am certain I would be captivated by Shorter Prose even if I didn't know Sarki at all.

There's something special about poets' approach to writing prose, and Sarki's Shorter Prose is no exception. I especially found that attention to sounds and rhythms, a delight in words, in the first and longest piece in this collection, "Ponzil, the Pistelero, and His Comedy of Combustion." In this prose piece, the narrator describes his childhood and adolescences in East Tawas, MI, a small town in which the Lutheran church cast a long shadow on his life, where he would be haunted by his being called "stupid" by the produce man at the A&P, where he came up against his father's disappointment in his not being a good Lutheran, not being smart, not fitting in better. The structure of this piece is beautifully crafted, with repetition of certain themes and people and stories from the narrator's past, all swirling together and carrying the reader on a sea of words and a perspective that could not be confined by the expectations of his neighbors in East Tawas. Faded family photographs, scans of childhood drawings, and ads from newspapers provide a visual accompaniment, but I was carried away by Sarki's writing -- insisting that white tissue paper is filmsy, not flimsy; reminding us of the magic of a plastic brontosaurus; considering the appropriateness of using the word avoirdupois. Later in this opening piece, he says, "In my case words become my playthings," for which I as his reader am thankful.

Highly recommended for lovers of language, appreciators of genre-breaking approaches to memoir and fiction and prose and poetry, and adventuresome readers willing to experience the frustration and limits of living in a small town, and the resilience of an imagination that refuses to see the world as everyone else does. ( )

Available to purchase on amazon.com, or here:

http://www.blurb.com/b/4216252-shorter-prose


It is difficult to rate your own book, to review it objectively. For no matter what one reads there is a life story, a history, ones working environment to take into account, and all the other books which came before and have proven to shape your reading patterns. I come to my own work the same way as I do with my paintings, my poems, and my photography and film. I have spent a great deal of my adulthood learning what it is that I like. If I cannot find it in the world I inhabit, I make it. But I see absolutely no need in adding more pieces to an already cluttered mix and landfill if the new work is not novel or better than something that has come before it. That was my concern about publishing these three pieces in the first place, and the reason why I still chose to do so. I feel this work is original. I believe in the words and pictures on the page. I think the book is beautiful and well-designed. I will give this book five stars because I do believe it took an act of courage to produce this work and a certain jeopardy at stake within the public domain.

I realize I have to be somewhat audacious to think I can work successfully in so many medias. I kid often with my three brothers on our personal delusions and our firm grasp on perhaps an alternative reality. But still, we all go on. Making the best of it and wishing for more. The three stories included in this collection are all true and somewhat false. Liberties have been taken. Memory, especially mine, is not to be trusted. But every one of these stories feels right to me. All of them an honest attempt to get at my truth. To be forthcoming. And to prove true enough to be trusted by my loved ones and acquaintances that I will always be fair.

I like these three stories very much. I believe they are good and worthy of the time it takes them to be read. It is my hope that this is only the beginning for me with prose. It has been my dream for the entire duration of my adult life that I would make of myself something that mattered in the literary world. I yearn that meaning in my life shall be multiplied and spread to those both close to me and others I have not yet personally met, nor probably ever will. I covet the proof required to be considered the greatest friend to all on the page where I believe it will always, and forever, matter until the end of all our days. ( )