Review
"Anthony McCann's Father of Noise, his first book, is terrific: an intelligent, surreal, original bulletin from contemporary America, its landscape, its violent history, its wild humor, its experience of and secret longing for disaster. 'I need to pretend/ that I am under attack from the air,' concludes the paranoid, deranged, yet still-lucid speaker of 'Skywalker Ranch.' The poem 'Empire State' (invoking New York state, for those unfamiliar with its official nickname) brings us efficiently, sparely, 'Further north into/Deepest Indian Country.' Strange metamorphoses happen in these poems, transformative flares of consciousness: 'Beneath my dead skin/My true skin was burning.' The often deadpan tone and occasionally bizarre dramatis personae--'In the Kitchen I am called Snowflake' begins the poem 'Valium'--never obscure McCann's acute diagnosis of where we live now, our 'American Experience,' as the title of one poem has it. McCann is a mordant environmentalist, alive to the pressure of noise on our psyches, materialism on our resources, egotism on our ecology. 'We are all engaged in this lugubrious parody of pleasure/ because we/are Phony Balonies. (I am looking/for a real commitment),' he writes in 'Walk and Missive.' Below the fun and sudden violence, one hears a strange, keening prophecy: 'We will say things to each other when we meet/in the skyway, in the future. . . . /[Because we are tender/and electronically sensitized' ('My People'). Poet and critic Charles Bernstein has said poetry should be at least as interesting as TV. McCann is up to that challenge."--Maureen N. McLane , The Chicago Tribune
From the Publisher