Publisher's Synopsis
Poetry. Maxine Chernoff's THE TURNING turns at the moment 'when we survive our disappearances, ' 'when murder chastises history, ' in other words, right now - when all that's left is the leveled playing field of the page, where graffiti scrawled on a wall is just as likely to carry import as Kristeva or Emerson or 'memory or Memorex.' In stanzas taut as guitar strings - or purse strings pulled tight against the chest - these poems recall a kind of classic Ahkmatovan cry (though they never plangent) combined with a Tsvetaeva-like pluckiness, all of which gets overridden by Chernoff's supreme humanity, ferocity, intelligence, wit, honesty: 'I had thought I knew how the world would end, but all I really know is how to stare and point.' Then the book takes yet another turn, beyond the staring and pointing - Gillian Conole
