From Publishers Weekly
A sprawling experimental poem in 100 parts, Carr's third collection variously examines the ways violence permeates our daily lives. Part personal reflection, part research project, Carr (Equivocal) echoes writers and thinkers from Dickinson and Whitman to Bataille and Sontag. Disturbing subjects such as child abuse, bomb-making, and the horrors of the Internet (I cannot write the words 'school shootings' in to the little search box./ Later I hear that whatever you write…will somewhere/ be recorded...in order to better sell you./ what does a person searching school shootings want to buy?) are interspersed with short, simple lullabies—never been to Texas, never been to Spain, never been to/ Holland, never been to Maine—as if Carr is simultaneously reassuring the reader and heightening the sense of danger. Despite these moments of calm, though, Carr (who is an editor of Counterpath Press) is clearly uninterested in comforting collective anxieties. Instead, she confronts them: Dear opposition, dear trashed strollers, dear/torn to pieces: Wasn't, won't be, isn't me. She also calls out our communal culpability—everyone's life is riddled—from which she doesn't exclude herself: my mother kicked my shin and I kicked her back. Why did I so enjoy this? (Jan.)
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"In this polyphonic poem the voices of care-givers, killers, and children commingle and, disturbingly, sometimes overlap. Innocence and guilt are never far apart. 'At the pool the boy in cammies reads an encyclopedia of weapons.' This book has a great moral complexity, gravitas, and courage." --Rae Armantrout, judge of the 2009 Sawtooth Poetry Prize
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"'The book about violence must be a book of quotations' according to Julie Carr in 100 Notes on Violence, 'For everyone speaks about violence.' Few have spoken or written on the subject with the desperate accuracy and the incendiary beauty of this disturbing, necessary book. Here, the quotations include statistics and news reports as well as the more traditional poetic forms, all to engage finally a light like that of the sun, 'its daily insurrection, daily assault.'" --Bin Ramke