Out of the world comes an extraordinarily generous and thoughtful review of Contrapuntal by Sean Zhuraw published in the latest issue of Jerry Magazine. Sean’s review was so kind it brought me to tears. So kind. He calls the book a “deeply moving and deceptively effortless debut.” Here is another quote that means a great deal to me:
“Music has the uncanny ability to change our center of kinetic consciousness and Kondrich’s live performance recorded on the page harmonizes real time (experience as it occurs) with memorized time (experience as it is reproduced). It is our luck to be able to return to these lyrics over and over again.”
Thank you so much, Sean! Thank you Jerry! Speaking of Jerry, I am so impressed by the work in the latest issue, I think you should send work their way if you have work to send. The editors – Emily Wolahan, Ethan Hon and Daniel Bevacqua – do an extraordinary job and are amazing people.
UPDATE (Nov. 9): Another review! This time from Heavy Feather Review. Erin McKnight, publisher of Queen’s Ferry Press, had these kind words to say:
Contrapuntal isn’t easy-listening poetry but perhaps, as Christopher Kondrich writes in one of his sophisticated poems, “a tenuous grasp is / enough.” If our future “is full of music,” we have time yet to tighten our grip, but also to recognize that the search is our sound—the melody that makes an already inspired collection sing.
UPDATE #2 (Nov. 20): Holy smokes! Yet another review. Connor Fisher has published an incredibly thoughtful, insightful and attentive review of Contrapuntal. And! And! It’s at The Rumpus. Fisher, an MFA candidate at UC Boulder and a reader for Timber, has this to say about the book:
The brilliance of Contrapuntal is realized through the relation that the poems bear to one another; within each of the book’s four sections, the succession of poems serves to deepen and enhance the overall thematization. Unlike a more loosely joined collection of poems, in which a topic is frequently viewed from a number of disassociated angles, Kondrich delves deeper and deeper from one poem to the next; his poems seem to burrow within mental obsession and neurosis, rather than providing a series of surface-level snapshots.
Thank you, Connor! And thank you Rumpus.