Jejuri (Paperback)

Publishers Weekly,Kolatkar (1932-2004) became a leading literary light in India, writing in Marathi and in English about the contradictions of the developing subcontinent. Composed in English, this fastidious, ironic lyric cycle helped make Kolatkar a national, if not international, star when published in India in 1974. Its impressionistic and anecdotal poems describe a visit to the town of the book's title, a Hindu pilgrimage site in Maharashtra state where ancient stones and holy men coexist with modern consumer culture and media, with their "slashed editorials/ and promises of eternal youth." Some poems retell (or undermine) local legends; others simply describe, using everything from jumbled typography to songlike stanzas to depict the site's disjunctions. There are no notes to explain place-specific references. And Kolatkar's techniques, like those of many British poets, may strike American readers as understated-simultaneously casual and terse: "I killed my mother/ for her skin./ I must say/ it didn't take much/ to make this pouch/ I keep turmeric in." Kolatkar's technical assurance and variety, and his decidedly vivid townscapes, however, ought to compel new readers on their own. (Nov.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved,Publishers Weekly,Publishers Weekly,Kolatkar (1932-2004) became a leading literary light in India, writing in Marathi and in English about the contradictions of the developing subcontinent. Composed in English, this fastidious, ironic lyric cycle helped make Kolatkar a national, if not international, star when published in India in 1974. Its impressionistic and anecdotal poems describe a visit to the town of the book's title, a Hindu pilgrimage site in Maharashtra state where ancient stones and holy men coexist with modern consumer culture and media, with their "slashed editorials/ and promises of eternal youth." Some poems retell (or undermine) local legends; others simply describe, using everything from jumbled typography to songlike stanzas to depict the site's disjunctions. There are no notes to explain place-specific references. And Kolatkar's techniques, like those of many British poets, may strike American readers as understated-simultaneously casual and terse: "I killed my mother/ for her skin./ I must say/ it didn't take much/ to make this pouch/ I keep turmeric in." Kolatkar's technical assurance and variety, and his decidedly vivid townscapes, however, ought to compel new readers on their own. (Nov.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved