By Serge Gavronsky
ISBN 978-1-946104-11-3, Poetry/Fiction/Innovative Literature, 124 pages
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The title is TITLE. What’s the title? TITLE. That means the book is the book, or
“A” book, and implies that the book questions itself along the way, or perhaps just makes a lot of leaps, flops, and fade-away hook shots, though all is not in cinders. But life and words manage to burn, and if you burn too, it might be for thirst of knowledge, and you will at least have a chance to quench such thirst if you read this book, if you attempt to understand the nature of a title. You are Odysseus, and you’re trying to get home, or toward another goal, and you need a few challenges along the way; or, you’ll get them whether you need them or not.
No more silence of memory! Because you will need your memories, even as you begin to lose them. But letters hold the prospect of words, and words of sentences, sentences of paragraphs, paragraphs of chapters, and chapters of books. And what is it that a book needs? TITLE. If all the dates are her favorites, she still wants to look at a calendar, and if she misses one, or two, she needs a reminder. Or she needs to pour herself a shot of calvados. Calvados or calvary, or cavalry. Oh my avocadoes! On sunny days, he had that certitude, but Auschwitz and Dachau happened nevertheless. Half of the country was bombed out, but the afternoons kept and keep coming. And one day you will remember (or not, or who will?) that a violinist was needed for a marriage of American history to its right political place. There is no language without speech, there is no Olivetti without a green cover. Too green in the land of pairs of graphs. Life is touching each other, and may have no intertextualities. Or all may be so.
This is that book This is TITLE!
— Charles Alexander