Copper Canyon Press has just released John Balaban’s new book of poetry, Path, Crooked Path, which received a starred review from Booklist.

Not for Balaban tempests in the teapot of personal reflection. No, he is a roaming bard in a besieged world. His wry, trenchant lyrics embody the cadence of a solitary thinker walking a country road while taking measure of the axis between light and dark, life and death. Balaban considers the lonely landscapes of America’s vast heartland and heartless borderland, and the absurdity, tragedy, and beauty of places redolent and riven, such as Athens, Romania, Miami, and Vietnam.

Read more about John’s books (a dozen in all) here.
The last one I read was his children’s book The Hawk’s Tale, which he kindly sent me after my son was born. I read it to my son just a few sentences at a time–as his attention span is woefully limited. But I would argue that the best books often beg to be read that way–a few sentences at a time–because the slow journey through the book allows you to take in its cadences, and, in the case of The Hawk’s Tale, its magic.