Books

Unica Zürn dans La maison des maladies raconte, par un ensemble de textes et dessins, un séjour en hôpital où elle est soignée d’une jaunisse. Elle y écrit et compose ce carnet où le regard qu’elle pose sur son propre corps, les lieux qu’elle habite et les personnages qu’elle rencontre, témoigne d’une sensibilité hors-norme qui tire à la fantaisie, voire au délire.

Pour la première fois en France, La maison des maladies est publié intégralement.

Le texte est traduit de l’allemand par Ruth Henry & Robert Valençay. Un après-propos de Mathilde Girard clôture le livre.

Laminaire est un livre de poésie sur la représentation, c’est-à-dire sur les manières contemporaines de montrer et de percevoir. Le pouvoir, qu’il émane de l’Etat ou bien des grandes entreprises de la Tech, se diffuse sur internet sous la forme de contenus préformatés, et ce dans un environnement médiatique où la production d’images (et notamment de mèmes) est presque infinie. C’est à partir de ce constat que la poétique d’Elsa Boyer, avec beaucoup de virtuosité et d’humour, se déploie. Par leur richesse lexicale, leur capacité à rapprocher des éléments pourtant hétéroclites et le baroque de certaines images, ces poèmes offrent au lectorat un horizon critique renouvelé. 

Laminaire est composé de dix-sept longs poèmes dans lesquels sont tressés vers et fragments de prose. On y rencontre, entre autres choses, un sénateur américain, des contrats de propriété et de location, les dessins de corps féminins et d’organes dans les traités d’anatomie, les vidéos Tiktok d’un président, la vidéo de présentation du robot Optimus de Tesla par Elon Musk, le texte du Schéma national du maintien de l’ordre, ou encore des projets et propositions de loi. 

Elsa Boyer est l’autrice d’une oeuvre littéraire remarquable. Elle a publié, aux éditions P.O.L et aux éditions MF, des récits, des essais, des traductions salués par la critique autant pour leurs inventions formelles que pour la pertinence de leurs sujets. Laminaire est son premier livre de poésie. Comme les autres titres de sa bibliographie, c’est un ouvrage fortement imprégné d’une fréquentation du numérique, des images qui circulent sur les réseaux et de leurs formats. 

Pieds en l’air, loin la terre rassemble les poèmes et paroles de chanson de Yanka Diaghileva (1966-1991), poétesse et musicienne au sein de l’un des premiers groupes de Punk sibérien. Imprégnées d’éléments de folklore sibérien et de mythologies slaves, les quatre-vingt-cinq textes qui composent ce livre évoquent à la fois l’univers du conte, l’esprit no future et la vie quotidienne en Sibérie à la fin des années 1980. S’ils sont marqués par une certaine forme de désespoir, ils témoignent surtout d’une profonde révolte existentielle et d’une insoumission au pouvoir soviétique. Extrêmement ciselés sur le plan sonore, ils sont nourris par les différents -ismes de la poésie russe (symbolisme, acméisme, futurisme). Mais Yanka Diaghileva ne revendiquait aucune filiation, elle faisait du punk: « Ce sont des étoiles qui tombent du ciel / En mégots des étages du dessus ». « Trouer la brume du paradis », un essai littéraire de Marina Skalova, complète cette éditions.

Publié en 2018 par Kayfa-ta (Égypte), Comment réparer : la maternité et ses fantômes propose une réflexion sur la maternité et ses représentations. Plusieurs fois réimprimé, ce livre jouit d’une très grande réputation dans le monde arabophone, notamment auprès des jeunes générations.Mobilisant différentes formes d’écriture (essai, récit, poème, journal) et des images photographiques tirées de sources diverses (archives personnelles, presse, portraits vernaculaires, etc.), la trame du livre s’articule autour des relations de l’autrice avec sa mère, sa grand-mère et ses deux fils. Déjouant les clichés et les formes narratives établies, Iman Mersal décèle les complexes réseaux symboliques dans lesquels s’inscrivent la filiation et la maternité, depuis la grossesse jusqu’à l’éducation des enfants, et ce de génération en génération.À l’écoute des silences de la mémoire, explorant ses labyrinthes, le livre porte un regard critique sur la violence et le sentiment de culpabilité qui traversent le corps maternel, notamment dans ses rapports au langage, au travail ou aux institutions. Iman Mersal élabore ainsi une sorte d’art poétique : la réparation dont parle le titre passe par l’écriture, elle est donc d’ordre créatif ; mais l’écriture s’insère dans un quotidien qui lui fait obstacle, qui met au défi la possibilité même d’écrire dès qu’on devient mère. Comment réparer : la maternité et ses fantômes est en ce sens un formidable texte de résistance, un geste d’émancipation.

Née en 1966 en Égypte, Iman Mersal est poète et professeur associé de littérature arabe à l’université d’Alberta, au Canada. Ses récents livres sont des écrits très originaux qui mêlent recherche académique et réflexions intimes sur une grande variété de sujets, dont la plupart ont trait à son identité de femme et d’artiste. Une anthologie de ses poèmes – Des choses m’ont échappé (2018) – et un récit – Sur les traces d’Enayat Zayyat (2021) – ont été traduits en français par Richard Jacquemond pour les éditions Actes Sud

Précoccupé par les futurs générés à partir des données qu’il émet, un narrateur s’adresse à l’agent fédéral assigné à sa surveillance. Souvenirs indexés peuplés d’anges et de cyborgs, traces et complots d’un empire oublié, vidéos d’alchimie tard dans la nuit, voix anonymes et océaniques des plateformes — le contenu d’une multitude d’onglets ouverts, riches en information, compose un « scroll of conscousness » où poésie et technologie sont deux interfaces d’une même magie : le langage. À mesure que l’écran calque la conscience et absorbe le rêve, réapparaît le désir d’aller toucher de l’herbe.

Basse résolution affective, zéro confession, full dispositif : entre artifice et exposition, le « je » de ces poèmes est soigneusement mis en scène. C’est une critique du flux en devenant soi-même le flux. Ce n’est pas juste : « je te dis un secret », mais plutôt : « regarde comme un poème fait semblant d’avoir un secret. » Sam Riviere sample un langage déjà-là — celui d’Internet, de la publicité et des réseaux sociaux — pour le redistribuer en poèmes tentés par l’auto-sabotage et la blague, qui analysent le moment de leur naissance et doutent, au passage, de leur propre valeur.

81 Austérités — Le Mariage de Kim Kardashian — Post-célébrité (poèmes sélectionnés et traduits de l'anglais par Jules Leroy)

Égal infini cherche le contact : une crêpe oubliée dans un tram, un tatouage de baiser, une présence derrière un écran. Ici, les algorithmes affectifs côtoient des recettes de consolation, les robots parlants croisent les animaux marins, et la vitesse d’une voiture dans la nuit rejoint le mouvement fragile des relations. Journal éparpillé, galerie de gestes et de paroles collectées, le livre avance comme le refrain « marabout, bout de ficelle… », laissant à chacun·e la liberté de tracer son propre chemin.

Translated from the French, Phototaxis is a fragmentary, darkly-humorous apocalyptic text from a leading young voice from Montréal.

In a city mysteriously overflowing with meat, a museum is bombed, a classical piano player hooked on snuff films throws himself off a building, a charismatic but misled political organizer has disappeared, and a young immigrant navigates a crumbling continent. A dystopic work of hope, Phototaxis dismantles and rebuilds worlds with language at turns surreal, scathingly comic, poetic, and revolutionary.

“Olivia Tapiero’s virtuosic Phototaxis reverses the purgative gesture of necrophoresis: every sentence is shot through with the stench of carrion and the death rattle of capital’s circulation. Reading the text, one feels the vertigo of an interminable fall refracted in an infinity mirror of the commodified image. Tapiero’s haunting lyricism, atmospherically rendered in Kit Schluter’s translation, will ring out in your skull long after reading the book’s final word: music.“
— Jackie Wang

Dorothea Lasky’s stunning new collection of poems presents an unfurling, terrifying, and fiercely loving embodiment of motherhood as a force of creation. Inspired by Bernadette Mayer’s The Desires of Mothers to Please Others in Letters, Lasky writes from the inner realm of a third pregnancy and guides us through a suspended timeline taut with anticipation. Mother documents caring for small children, the death of the mother, and the simultaneous anxiety and darkness of impending birth, as Lasky transmits from a deep mythic and biologically immediate space: “And even though I’ve spent / Eight months now / Dreading the sight / Of anything red / Now I long to bleed all over.” Invoking the eternal symbol of the mother, Lasky asks us to consider an expansive understanding of the horror and devotion inherent in the daily practices of existence.

“a slight cast down at the edges of the lips brings together work from the last decade of Katherine Hubbard’s prolific practice, which intertwines analogue photography, writing, and live performance. Reproductions of exhibited prints, a selection of new photographs, and images created from within her performances are gathered here, along with four of the artist’s original written works. This publication marks the first occasion for Hubbard’s photographs and writings-for-performance to exist on the same scale, that of the book.”
— co-editor, Corrine Fitzpatrick

The book is accompanied by a poster with a full-scale detail reproduction of Katherine Hubbard's rip stop weave artwork, printed on glossy tissue paper.

Additional contributions by Zoe Leonard, Mónica de la Torre, Elisabeth Sherman, and Lynne Tillman. Edited by Corrine Fitzpatrick and Lara Mimosa Montes.

Francis Laurie Schaffer—an artist in her mid-40s—has recently separated from her husband after a two-decade long marriage and has fallen in love with a polyamorous young man who doesn’t fully reciprocate her feelings. In an attempt to express her dissatisfaction, she begins writing about the relationships between the people she imagines belong to her polycule. But things begin to shift into a game of mirrors when Francis meets some of the people she’s written about. A series of events will then culminate with Francis and her friends crashing the 40th birthday party of her husband’s new girlfriend. A disastrous outcome serves as a rite of passage, delivering the protagonists onto the other side of that experience with a transformed sense of self.

A beautiful, expansive essay about care, dependence, and what it means to breathe in an age of environmental catastrophe. 

A few moments after birth we begin to use our lungs for the first time. From then on, we must continue breathing for as long as we are alive. And although this mostly happens unconsciously, in a society plagued by anxiety, climate change, environmental racism, and illness, there are more and more instances that ‘teach us about the privilege that is breathing.’

Why do we so easily forget the air that we breathe in common? What does it mean to breathe when the environment that sustains life now threatens it? And how can life continue to flourish under conditions that are increasingly toxic?

To approach these questions, Jamieson Webster draws on psychoanalytic theory and reflects on her own experiences as an asthmatic teenager, a deep-sea diver, a palliative psychologist during covid, a psychoanalyst attentive to the somatic, and a new mother. The result is a compassionate and timely exploration of air and breathing as a way to undo the pervasive myth of the individual by considering our dependence on invisible systems, on one another, and the way we have violently neglected this important aspect of life.

Amna, Nimo, Mouna – these are all names for a single Egyptian woman whose life has mirrored that of her country. After her death in 2015, her son, Nour, climbs to the attic of their house where he glimpses her in a series of ever more immersive visions: Amna as a young woman forced into an arranged marriage in the 1950s; as a coquettish student of French known to her confidants as Nimo; a self-made divorcee and a lover; a ‘pious mama’ donning her hijab; and, finally, as a feminist activist during the Arab Spring.

Charged and renewed by these visions of a woman he has always known as Mouna, Nour begins a series of fevered letters to his sister – who has been estranged from Mouna and from Egypt for many years – in an attempt to reconcile what both siblings know about this mercurial woman, their country, and the possibility for true revolution after so much has failed.

Hallucinatory, stylish, and erotic, The Dissenters is a transcendent portrait of a woman and an era that explodes our ideas of faith, gender roles, freedom, and political agency.

YOUSSEF RAKHA is an Egyptian author of fiction and nonfiction working in Arabic and English. He is the author of The Book of the Sultan’s Seal, The Crocodiles, and Paulo, which was long-listed for the International Prize for Arabic Fiction and won the 2017 Sawiris Award.

From a LAMBDA award-winning author, an electric and haunting dive into New York City club culture, the elite art world, the relationships we crave, and the addictions we hold dear, told through one iconoclastic trans girl’s search for connection, from growing up in the midst of the AIDS crisis to the panic of the COVID-19 lockdowns. 

Terry Dactyl has lived many lives. Raised by boisterous lesbian mothers in Seattle, she comes of age as a trans girl in the 1980s in a world of dancing queens and late-night house parties just as the AIDS crisis ravages their world. After moving to New York City, Terry finds a new family among gender-bending club kids bonded by pageantry and drugs, fiercely loyal and unapologetic. She lands a job at a Soho gallery, where, after partying all night, she spends her days bringing club culture to the elite art world.

Twenty years later, in a panic during the COVID-19 lockdown, Terry returns to a Seattle stifled by gentrification and pandemic isolation until resistance erupts following the murder of George Floyd, and her search for community ignites once again.

In propulsive, intoxicating prose, Terry Dactyl traces an extraordinary journey from adolescence to adulthood, delivering a vital portrait of queer identity in all its peril and possibility.

A raw and profound novel in verse about mental health, addiction, queerness and shame that explores ideas of hybridity and identity. 

Following their discharge from hospital, Mirrorstage follows its narrator on a road trip through the grey, liminal landscapes of modern Britain. As they pass graffitied bus shelters, construction sites and flooded motorways, factories and high-rises, the narrator’s internal and external journeys begin to converge, leading them down paths they have been trying to avoid: the mental illness and substance use that led them to the inpatient ward, the uneasy balance of their own gender identity, their troubled relationship with their estranged father, the perils and pleasures of the queer scene, and the shame that has haunted them throughout their life.

Woven around the psychoanalytic concept of its title, Mirrorstage is an experimental fable exploring the boundaries of selfhood and literary forms, told in fragments of prose and verse that are equal parts heartbreaking, sexy, and witty.

Dreamy, bratty and brash, Zipper Mouth is a potent gut-punch of a novel by an icon of 90's queer lit. 

In this extraordinary novel, Laurie Weeks captures the exuberance and mortification of a lesbian junkie as she navigates the chaos and horror of everyday life. Through longing monologues to Vivian Leigh, ranting letters to Sylvia Plath and to-do lists that never get done, Zipper Mouth gives us an unforgettable protagonist caught in a spiral of addiction, unrequited love, and mental health crises, and the effortlessly hilarious and strange inner workings of her mind. 

A messy and raw depiction of striving to live in a world that doesn’t cater to your brain chemistry, Zipper Mouth is an outstanding work of queer fiction. Come for the exalted nightclub epiphanies, stay for the devastating morning-after hangovers.

A twisty thriller about the fate of a sprawling family in Lagos, Lakiriboto is a queer, feminist revenge thriller like no other, in which murder, betrayal, and witchcraft collide – with explosive results. 

When her grandmother dies in the night, Moremi’s fate falls to her uncle, the grasping family chief who sends her off to work as a housemaid in Lagos. On arriving there, Moremi finds that the big city is not all she thought it would be. But she’s not alone. After another family death, Kudirat, accused of bringing misfortune to her close family, has also been sent to live as a maid in the same house, scrubbing floors and folding laundry for long-suffering Tola, whose abusive doctor husband refuses to treat. Together, with the help of her queer aunt Morieba, the four women must wrestle back control of their lives as the patriarchal traditions that govern the family push back against their freedoms. When Tola’s condition worsens, someone new emerges, someone with revenge and redemption in mind. 

Mixing family saga, mobster pulp, and queer coming-of age, Lakiriboto is a staggeringly original and surprising novel about Nigeria’s queer and feminist communities, the struggles they face, and the lengths they will go to to overcome them. 

In Ten Bridges I’ve Burnt, Brontez Purnell—the bard of the underloved and overlooked—turns his gaze inward. A storyteller with a musical eye for the absurdity of his own existence, he is peerless in his ability to find the levity within the stormiest of crises. Here, in his first collection of genre-defying verse, Purnell reflects on his peripatetic life, whose ups and downs have nothing on the turmoil within. “The most high-risk homosexual behavior I engage in,” Purnell writes, “is simply existing.” 

The thirty-eight autobiographical pieces pulsing in Ten Bridges I’ve Burnt find Purnell at his no-holds-barred best. He remembers a vicious brawl he participated in at a poetry conference and reckons with packaging his trauma for TV writers’ rooms; wrestles with the curses, and gifts, passed down from generations of family members; and chronicles, with breathless verve, a list of hell-raising misadventures and sexcapades. Through it all, he muses on everything from love and loneliness to capitalism and Blackness to jogging and the ethics of art, always with unpredictable clarity and movement. 

With the same balance of wit and wisdom that made 100 Boyfriends a sensation, Purnell unleashes another collection of boundary-pushing writing with Ten Bridges I’ve Burnt, a book as original and thrilling as the author himself.

[Available for preorders. Shipping 26 October.] 

Twenty Shadows tells of a man’s spiritual change following the suicide of his son after a long addiction. Haunted by this loss and the unknown desire of his only child, thinking and writing with a new emptiness, he finds a form of expression that was previously impossible. 

This singular book brings together the reflections of one of our greatest living philosophers with a father’s grief. —Todd McGowan 

Taking its title from Shakespeare’s Richard II—“Each substance of grief hath twenty shadows”—this book follows personal tragedy into the murky place where memory and interpretation become indistinguishable. What lies at its heart is a meditation on the unknowability of the other. —Charlotte Northall 

Richard Boothby is right that no amount of intellect curbs the impulses of real experience, but that doesn’t mean you have to remain in a state of ignorance. Composed from the leftovers of terrible, unassimilable events, this book gives us bracing indications of ways to live on in a diminished aftermath. —Justin Clemens 

Richard Boothby is professor emeritus of philosophy at Loyola University Maryland. Boothby’s books include Death and Desire: Psychoanalytic Theory in Lacan’s Return to Freud (1991), Freud as Philosopher: Metapsychology after Lacan (2001), Sex on the Couch: What Freud Still Has to Teach Us about Sex and Gender (2006), and Embracing the Void: Rethinking the Origin of the Sacred (2023). He lives in Baltimore.

Strangers in Light Coats is the third collection of Zaqtan's poetry to appear in English. It brings together poems written between 2014 and 2020 drawn from six volumes of poetry. Catching and holding the smallest particles of observation and experience in their gravity, the poems sprout and grow as though compelled, a trance of process in which fable, myth, and elegy take form only to fall apart and reconfigure, each line picked apart by the next and brought into the new body. 

Ghassan Zaqtan is not only one of the most significant Palestinian poets at work today, but one of the most important poets writing in Arabic. Since the publication of his first collection in 1980, Zaqtan's presence as a poet has evolved with the same branching and cumulative complexity as his poems—an invisible system of roots insistently pushing through the impacted soil of political and national narratives. 

An Italian family, sizable, with its routines and rituals, crazes, pet phrases, and stories, doubtful, comical, indispensable, comes to life in the pages of Natalia Ginzburg’s Family Lexicon. Giuseppe Levi, the father, is a scientist, consumed by his work and a mania for hiking—when he isn’t provoked into angry remonstration by someone misspeaking or misbehaving or wearing the wrong thing. Giuseppe is Jewish, married to Lidia, a Catholic, though neither is religious; they live in the industrial city of Turin where, as the years pass, their children find ways of their own to medicine, marriage, literature, politics. It is all very ordinary, except that the background to the story is Mussolini’s Italy in its steady downward descent to race law and world war. The Levis are, among other things, unshakeable anti-fascists. That will complicate their lives.

Family Lexicon is about a family and language—and about storytelling not only as a form of survival but also as an instrument of deception and domination. The book takes the shape of a novel, yet everything is true. “Every time that I have found myself inventing something in accordance with my old habits as a novelist, I have felt impelled at once to destroy [it],” Ginzburg tells us at the start. “The places, events, and people are all real.”

An essential history for understanding how we mother now, and how motherhood itself became a medium—winner of the Brooke Hindle Award from the Society for the History of Technology.

From the nursery to the prison, from the clinic to the commune, Mother Media tells the story of how we arrived at our contemporary understanding of what a mother is and how understandings of “bad” mothering formed our contemporary panics about “bad” media. In this book, leading historian of psychology Hannah Zeavin examines twentieth-century pediatric, psychological, educational, industrial, and economic norms around mediated mothering and technologized parenting. The book charts the crisis of the family across the twentieth century and the many ingenious attempts to remediate nursemaid and mother via speculative technologies and screen media. 

Growing out of her previous award-winning book The Distance Cure, which considered technologized care, the book lays bare the contradictions of techno-parenting and how it relates to conceptions of “maternal fitness,” medical redlining, and surveillance of children, parents, and other caregivers. The author offers narratives of parenting in its extremity (for example, Shaken Baby Syndrome) and its ostensible banality (for example, the Nanny Cam) and how the two are often intertwined. Ultimately, Zeavin grapples with a simple contradiction: technology is seen and judged as harmful in domestic and educational spaces, even as it is a saving grace in the unending labor of raising a family.

Hannah Zeavin is Associate Professor of the History of Science in the Department of History and the Berkeley Center for New Media at UC Berkeley. She is the author of The Distance Cure and Mother Media (MIT Press) and Founding Editor of Parapraxis. In 2021, she cofounded The Psychosocial Foundation.

A perfect introduction for new readers and a must-have for avid fans, this New York Times Notable Book includes "Bloodchild," winner of both the Hugo and the Nebula awards and "Speech Sounds," winner of the Hugo Award.

Appearing in print for the first time, "Amnesty" is a story of a woman aptly named Noah who works to negotiate the tense and co-dependent relationship between humans and a species of invaders. Also new to this collection is "The Book of Martha" which asks: What would you do if God granted you the ability—and responsibility—to save humanity from itself?

Like all of Octavia Butler's best writing, these works of the imagination are parables of the contemporary world. She proves constant in her vigil, an unblinking pessimist hoping to be proven wrong, and one of contemporary literature's strongest voices.

In this dazzlingly original reassessment of women’s stories, bodies, and art, Lauren Elkin—the celebrated author of Flâneuse—explores the ways in which feminist artists have taken up the challenge of their work and how they not only react against the patriarchy but redefine their own aesthetic aims. How do we tell the truth about our experiences as bodies? What is the language, what are the materials, that we need to transcribe them? And what are the unique questions facing those engaged with female bodies, queer bodies, sick bodies, racialized bodies?  

Encompassing a rich genealogy of work across the literary and artistic landscape, Elkin makes daring links between disparate points of reference—among them Julia Margaret Cameron’s photography, Kara Walker’s silhouettes, Vanessa Bell’s portraits, Eva Hesse’s rope sculptures, Carolee Schneemann’s body art, Theresa Hak Kyung Cha’s trilingual masterpiece DICTEE—and steps into the tradition of cultural criticism established by Susan Sontag, Hélène Cixous, and Maggie Nelson.  

An erudite, potent examination of beauty and excess, sentiment and touch, the personal and the political, the ambiguous and the opaque, Art Monsters is a radical intervention that forces us to consider how the idea of the art monster might transform the way we imagine—and enact—our lives.

Destined to become a new classic . . . Elkin shatters the truisms that have evolved around feminist thought.
—Chris Kraus