Like a steampunk great-grandniece of Lorine Niedecker, Stephanie Anderson has cobbled together a quirky, hardscrabble, and defiantly pre-digital idiolect in The Nightyard. Scrupulously crafted and a little austere in temperament, Anderson’s poems read, in part, like studies of the Protestant work ethic run amok, trusting in hard facts and practical tips to tame a mind “too bound to reverie.” Anderson offsets the smothered music of “a barrel organ being—quelched” with the racket that emerges when “all the tiny pianos begin to tilt off the shelves,” correcting the rage for order with a dose of human chaos. The poems in The Nightyard are wise, tireless, uncommonly passionate and truly hard-won. Trust in them.Timothy Donnelly
Stephanie Anderson is the author of In the Key of Those Who Can No Longer Organized their Environments (Horse Less Press, 2013), The Nightyard (Noemi Press), The Choral Mimeographs (dancing girl press), and In the Particular Particular (New Michigan Press). She lives in Chicago.
$10 Paperback | Published 2011