Naficy, as a poet of Los Angeles, suggests a new route, and this one to freedom. Is it Los Angeles that has enabled a writer to deal with such issues esthetically, and with such determination? Is this special impetus capable perhaps of being born only here? Privacy and separateness preserve the otherness and beauty necessary for culture, but they also propel the meaningfulness of speech. Naficy brings these as a gift, together and simultaneously, to the table of our common language.
Who but a poet could halt devouring movement or place into motion inert rock? By being wiling to come forth in an unorthodox way, and speak of things so alienable in a life rendered fast and hollow, Naficy exemplifies a new attentiveness, a new fearlessness. The world is far bigger than "America," and, absolutely, Los Angeles. The poet shows a way to attend to this world we as a plural people embody and inhabit, yet seemingly have forgotten to heed.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
4 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Majid's work rings of Hafez, Rumi, and Lorca.,
By "echo_parque" (Los Angeles, California United States) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Muddy Shoes (Paperback)
"Why do I speak in poetry? Because in this heavy mist, I cannot be a lighthouse For drifting boats."This is a poem by Majid Naficy from his first book published in English. Muddy Shoes is a solid handsome book published by Beyond Baroque. Majid Naficy is an Iranian poet in exile living in Los Angeles since 1984. The book contains poems previously published in Farsi translated by folks who did not speak Farsi but who worked closely with Majid in order to represent work that rings of Hafez, Rumi, and Lorca. Muddy Shoes is not a poem but a metaphor which asks "... From which memory/ Do you take on this scent?" Muddy Shoes belongs to the exiled, to the executed; to all who have arrived here and who do not wear the iron heel. Naficy relates his experiences in Iran, his experiences in exile, his family, friends, and son with passion and flavor; with sadness and dignity. With these translations he asks that you put your muddy shoes beside his at the door and he invites you into his house. Despite adequate reason Majid's house is not filled with hate or cynicism instead he has made rose water from his tears and shares his duende. He has a romantic spirit and a spirituality that does not romanticize God. "If I knew life was so red/ Would I not hide myself in your womb?" he ends the poem "To My Mother". "Look at the path from which you've come./ Do you recognize those footprints?" Majid was involved in the '79 revolution in Iran. His wife and brother were executed. When I spoke to him of the recent murders of Iranian writers by death squads, tears came to eyes but not an angry word though they were his friends. But his poems are not political dogma. They are political only because of their humanity and they are beautiful because of their compassion. Muddy shoes off to Fred Dewey for recognizing the need for this book and this poet. Please check it out and re welcome yourself to Los Angeles.
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