Angielski
What Do You Call This? My grandfather kept his in his pocket, taking it out only at dinner. I own one too. More emblem than tool really, but I love the way it answers my grip, perfectly weighted, light, the small crook of its handle hugging my pinky, the blade curved like the C of my own name, so that whatever I need to cut, I need to cut towards me, my thumb steadying the object, then a surgical half-sweep my grandfather used to shear away a bit of cheese, a chunk of bread, or to divvy up a peach, piling the pieces in his glass of red wine. And me, what do I use it for? To sharpen my pencil. Its crescent tooth bites into the wood, moving oh so quick and deep, this doohicky sickle, this whatsit scythe. Rongetta. Ron-get-ta. The elegance, verbal felicitousness, and subtle crafting that were the signature qualities of Carmine Starnino's debut, "The New World", are once again on display in his second book, "Credo". Whether the subject is a passport, a clothesline, an antique goblet, prayer, or archaic English words, Starnino exercises an arresting mixture of wit and wordplay that rejoices in its own resources, its own cadence and diction. "Credo" places Starnino in the forefront of a new generation of Canadian poets. Carmine Starnino is a poet living in Montreal. His first book of poetry, "The New World", was shortlisted for the 1997 A.M Klein Prize, the 1998 Gerald Lampert Memorial Prize, and given honourable mention in Quill and Quire's Best Books of 1997.
