"Her language moves between sensuality and deconstructionism in a luscious interplay between the abstract and the corporeal. [...] The new translations in Selections are a provocative delight." —Foreword Reviews

"(On Notebook of Roses and Civilization) [L]yrical descriptions of lesbian desire coupled with a continued meditation on language. Brossard conflates writing with lovemaking […] the poems forming a grammar of desire, like a diagrammed body." —Kate Zambreno, The Believer

Co-op availableCustom sampler chapbook availableGalleys available at Winter Institute and ALA Midwinter MeetingOnline/social media campaigneBook available at same time as print publicationeBook ISBN will be included on all press materials, publisher website, and whenever print ISBN is listedPublisher will be promoting both eBook and print through social media

SOFT LINK 1 from Notebook of Roses and Civilization tr. Robert Majzels and Erín Moure It’s fears slow and fascinating that enter life each morning at coffee time while she wonders if tomorrow there’ll be war and brusquely as she does each morning slices bread and cheese. It’s gestures of uncontrollable avidity that proliferate in the throng and its worldly febrility, its parquet fever on the trading floor and stage. It’s hesitations, heart cries that crisscross broad avenues full of shade and dust that attract and make us think of our legs and elbows, our knees too when desire bumps and bounces words and feelings upward, it’s simple things with prefixes like cyber or bio that hold thoughts fast, float them a moment till we believe them aquatic and marvellous. It’s certainties that in tiny increments of dust and light are soon mixed with our tears. It’s inexplicable feelings made of small hurts strung over long years and vast horizons, it’s blues ideas that settle in where the happiness of existing threatens to take the breath away or to lodge itself in the throat like an instrument of fervour. It’s glimmers of intoxications impossible to look at for long, thoughts so precise that engage us beyond shade and wind, far beyond crude words, so noisy so terribly close to silence that the world all around seems suddenly engulfed in high seas and continual rustling like the music in our heads that in one stroke of the bow dislodges all that resists torment. It’s underlined passages, fragments of happiness that traverse the body and raise bridges all around because elsewhere and in the wild blue yonder they say there’s euphoria. It’s written down with bruises, abundance of life burst to fullness in a world and its niches of worn paths that lick at the shadow of bones. Cahier de roses et de civilisation 2003, tr. 2007