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Michael Robbins was born in Topeka, Kansas. His poems and criticism have appeared in The New Yorker, Poetry, Harpers, The London Review of Books, The Village Voice, and several other journals. He received his PhD in English from the University of Chicago.
Alien vs. Predator
eBook
$12.99
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ISBN-13:
9781101576823
- Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
- Publication date: 03/27/2012
- Series: Penguin Poets
- Sold by: Penguin Group
- Format: eBook
- Pages: 88
- File size: 273 KB
- Age Range: 18 Years
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The debut collection of a poet whose savage, hilarious work has already received extraordinary notice.
Since his poems first began to appear in the pages of The New Yorker and Poetry, there has been a lot of excited talk about the fresh and inventive work of Michael Robbins. Equal parts hip- hop, John Berryman, and capitalism seeking death and not finding it, Robbins's poems are strange, wonderful, wild, and completely unlike anything else being written today. As allusive as the Cantos, as aggressive as a circular saw, this debut collection will offend none but the virtuous, and is certain to receive an enormous amount of attention.
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The Washington Post - Elizabeth Lund
Michael Robbins's writing is as edgy and brash as the sci-fi characters he gives voice to in his first collection…In poems that range from outrageous to vulgar and throb with energy, he boldly employs cliches, literary allusions and cultural references…The New York Times Book Review - Eric McHenry
Robbins is one part Ashbery and two parts Tupac…It's in his rhymes—polysyllabic, serial, audacious—that Robbins most resembles an M.C., and most distinguishes himself from other poets…This is a pretty relentless debut, but there are worse things to be than relentlessly funny…The New York Times - Dwight Garner
"My heart is lovely, dark and deep," Michael Robbins writes in a poem called "Plastic Robbins Band" in Alien vs. Predator, his first collection. He's lying, shamelessly. Based on these buzzing, flyspecked, fluorescent poems, I'd guess that Mr. Robbins's heart is not lovely but beating a bit arrhythmically; not dark but lighted by a dangling disco ball; not deep but as shallow and alert as a tidal buoy facing down a tsunami. Yet it's a heart crammed full, like a goose's liver, with pagan grace. This man can write.Publishers Weekly
The poems in this debut are formally exact: etched into scrupulous quatrains and quintets, prosodically meticulous, exasperatingly well-rhymed (“Rorschach blots,” for example, is coupled with “Arnold Horshack thoughts”). Yet what makes this collection distinct is a convulsive, almost frenzied use of cultural reference, with vamps on Adorno, Rilke, Berryman, and Wittgenstein, among others. More often, the poems cite pop songs, film dialogue (“Dude, this aggression will not stand” from The Big Lebowski), and American folk culture (“My name is Michael, I’m an alcoholic./Hi, Michael. Row your boat ashore”). Yet this is more than simple allusion. Robbins’s ear is tuned to the caffeinated jabber of digital culture, with its endlessly clickable, synaptic links; the flotsam of poems, megastore names, and childhood rhymes get battered about, and the original language re-emerges transformed. Santa urging his reindeer becomes a call to heavy metal bands: “On Sabbath, on Slayer, on Maiden and Venom!” Robert Frost is unceremoniously pantsed: “I give my skinny prick / a shake, to ask if there is some mistake.” In a clever moment perhaps serving as Robbins’s ars poetica, Auden gets inverted: “Nothing makes poetry happen.” (Apr.)