5 Questions with Kim Addonizio, Author of Now Weāre Getting Somewhere
Kim Addonizio is the author of eight poetry collections, two novels, two story collections, and two books on writing poetry: The Poet's Companion (with Dorianne Laux) and Ordinary Genius. Her poetry collection Tell Me was a finalist for the National Book Award, and her 2016 collection, Mortal Trash, won the Paterson Poetry Prize. Addonizio's awards include fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Guggenheim Foundation, among other honors. She lives in Oakland, California.
Kim AddonizioĀ is joined by Brittany Perham, Peter Kline, and Tracey Knapp to discuss the launch of her new collection Now Weāre Getting Somewhere: Poems (published by Norton)Ā in our City Lights LIVE! discussion series on Tuesday, March 16th
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Where are you writing to us from?
Iām hunkered down here in the Oakland hills with a couple of lovely cats. I havenāt been to San Francisco for nearly a yearāis it still even there? Iām glad City Lights is making it through in some way and will hopefully be stronger than ever on the other side of this. You guys are a beacon and an icon.
Whatās kept you sane during the pandemic?
Umā¦edibles? I generally tend to see reality as something to escape from. Now more than ever. So, the usual: binge-baking, binge-watching, binge-cringing at the political antics of the motherfuckers whoāve spent the last four years running the democratic experiment into the ground.
What are 3 books you always recommend to people?
Here are three Iāve recommended to friends recently:
Behind the Beautiful ForeversĀ by Katherine Booāthe subtitle pretty much sums it up: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity. I read it several years ago and it just blew me awayāthe lives of those people and the sympathy with which she renders them. Nonfiction, but it reads like a novel. Iāve never forgotten it.
Lately Iām recommending the one Iām reading now, Martha Gellhornās The Face of War. Sheās a beautiful writer who possibly had her work overshadowed somewhat by being married to Hemingway for a time. She gives you such a sense of what itās like for people in wartime, from the Spanish Civil War through WWII and Vietnam and a few other placesāwithout any sense of pity, just clear-sighted observation. In āThe War in Finland,ā she writes, āThe way people stay half-sane in war, I imagine, is to suspend a large part of their reasoning minds, lose most of their sensitivity, laugh when they get the smallest chance, and go a bit, but increasingly, crazy.ā
ThirdāIs it cheating to say Iām listening to this one? I love being read toāI became obsessed with Hillary Mantelās Wolf Hall trilogy. Every night I disappear into the sixteenth centuryās burnings, beheadings, and bling. Iām on the last one, The Mirror & the Light, and I donāt know if Iāll be able to recover from being ejected back into my own time. Iām thinking Iāll just start over with the first book, and by the time Iām through the second round, the listing ship of state will have hopefully been righted.
Which writers, artists, and others influence your work in general, and this book, specifically?
Itās hard to answer this without naming every book Iāve read, every movie Iāve seen, every piece of art Iāve looked at and every kind of music Iāve listened to. Iām influenced by everything and everyone, but mostly I donāt consciously remember that stuff; itās like my brain is doing its thing deep down in its little neural workshop and one day something surfaces. With this book, it often felt more as though I was channeling a messed-up, passionate and somehow bratty spirit who had a lot to say. I donāt know where she got it all from.
If you opened a bookstore, where would it be located, what would it be called, and whatĀ would your bestseller be?
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I would never hurt you,
at least not today.Ā Just about any time
after fourĀ tomorrowĀ would be okay.
I will be waiting naked at the door.Ā I will
be waiting on the floor with a sock puppet
and a cardboard box as a stage.Ā Iām writing
a one-scener, a short play.Ā Itās either called
āPretty Little Pickaxeā or āIāll Bite You
If You Stay.āĀ How long will this take?Ā
I donāt stick around for pain,
not the kind that scars, anyway,
at least not on my face.Ā I trust you
brought the incriminating audio tape,
the heavy breathing from last Tuesday,
a confession involving a garden rake.
I lied about the broccoli, lied about the lamp
I never really gave to the neighbors,
its wobbly stem leaning into the dumpster
like the defeated neck of a dying swan.
You donāt believe me?Ā I donāt blame you.
I never tell anyone about our sex games,
or at least, I never mention
your name. Could be anybody. Could be
why Iām the boss in this game, the kind
of boss who would never fire you, more like
the kind with a horse whip and a bullhorn.Ā
More like a muzzle than a bow tie.
Come over. Iāve been waiting all day.
Thereās a bottle of wine on the counter
that we might never open, that might be better
broken.Ā Thereās trouble written all over
my face.