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Translated from the Arabic and introduced by Fady Joudah, You Can Be the Last Leaf draws on two decades of work to present the transcendent and timely US debut of Palestinian poet Maya Abu Al-Hayyat.
Art. Garlic. Taxis. Sleepy soldiers at checkpoints. The smell of trash on a winter street, before "our wild rosebush, neglected / by the gate, / blooms." Lovers who don't return, the possibility that you yourself might not return. Making beds. Cleaning up vomit. Reading recipes. In You Can Be the Last Leaf, these are the ordinary and profound-sometimes tragic, sometimes dreamy, sometimes almost frivolous--moments of life under Israeli occupation. Here, private and public domains are inseparable. Desire, loss, and violence permeate the walls of the home, the borders of the mind. And yet that mind is full of its own fierce and funny voice, its own preoccupations and strangenesses. "It matters to me," writes Abu Al-Hayyat, "what you're thinking now / as you coerce your kids to sleep / in the middle of shelling" whether it's coming up with "plans / to solve the world's problems," plans that "eliminate longing from stories, remove exhaustion from groans," or dreaming "of a war / that's got no war in it," or proclaiming that "I don't believe in survival." In You Can Be the Last Leaf, Abu Al-Hayyat has created a richly textured portrait of Palestinian interiority--at once wry and romantic, worried and tenacious, and always singing itself.
"The Palestinian poet's U.S. debut gathers two decades of her intimate testimony about private life in a public war zone, where 'those who win by killing fewer children / are losers.'"-New York Times
"The Palestinian poet's U.S. debut gathers two decades of her intimate testimony about private life in a public war zone, where 'those who win by killing fewer children / are losers.'"--New York Times
"Al-Hayyat's latest devastating and courageous collection captures the precarious everyday lives of Palestinians with enormous empathy and glistening clarity . . . The vivid translations by Fady Joudah will jostle readers into discomfort and pin Al-Hayyat's stunning voice into their ears."--Booklist
"There is so much grief and laughter in this collection, loss and love, as we watch the poet over time in an unending occupation. This unceasing violence seeps into her interior world too, her home and mind. But she still fiercely demands space for desire, laughter, and hope."--Pierce Alquist, Book Riot
"'What if / I find what I'm looking for?' asks the poet, a question both disarming and succulent in one of this collection's many gently immovable poems. How singular the ordinary is, the poet shows, spotlit as it is against the world's unending violence. Only a poet of great love like Maya Abu Al-Hayyat could claim both that 'love dies' and is 'worth a thousand loves' with 'two hands.' 'Are we human?' the poet also asks. There is no good answer, but we would be foolish to ignore the question. Props must be given to translator Fady Joudah for so sheerly rendering this collection to us undeserving English-speaking readers; I hope we can appreciate the enormity of this gift."--Tarfia Faizullah
"Each poem in Fady Joudah's translation of Maya Abu Al-Hayyat's, You Can Be the Last Leaf arrives whole, a