Incontinence (Phoenix Poets)

Charged with sensuality, ferocity, and despair, this sequence of poems follows the progress of a central character's passionate romance. Hahn's fevered book of human emotions becomes a powerful rumination on love, aging, and mutability in general."Stitching together tropes about writing and technique, as well as hunting and the loss of sexual innocence, [Hahn] marks and exploits the body with surgical precision in order to explore the peripheries of the personal lyric. She wants to take poetry to the most tangible and sensual extremes. It's often uncomfortable, and yet as often results in a poetry of generous, piercing honesty, as if (to rewrite Bradford) it's by the body we are 'plainly told.'"—David Baker, Poetry"Incontinence has an enormous, almost epic sweep."—Chicago Sun-Times

Literature & Fiction

Hahn, Susan

Poetry

University of Chicago Press

Charged with sensuality, ferocity, and despair, this sequence of poems follows the progress of a central character's passionate romance. Hahn's fevered book of human emotions becomes a powerful rumination on love, aging, and mutability in general. "Stitching together tropes about writing and technique, as well as hunting and the loss of sexual innocence, [Hahn] marks and exploits the body with surgical precision in order to explore the peripheries of the personal lyric. She wants to take poetry to the most tangible and sensual extremes. It's often uncomfortable, and yet as often results in a poetry of generous, piercing honesty, as if (to rewrite Bradford) it's by the body we are 'plainly told.'"—David Baker, Poetry "Incontinence has an enormous, almost epic sweep."—Chicago Sun-Times

Confession (Volume 1997) (Phoenix Poets)

Confession, the companion to Incontinence, Susan Hahn's previous prize-winning book of poetry, continues the probing, visceral account of the relationship of a woman with her estranged husband and her inconstant lovers. Ingenious, disturbing, Confession will enhance an already substantial following for this exceptional poet. "Phoenix Poets is the most distinguished university press series going."—Alfred Corn "Compressed, controlled, circumscribed by the artist's discipline, the poems in Susan Hahn's Confession do not spill over; each is like a steadily held cup containing its pain."—Alicia Ostriker "Hahn's voice is unique and unforgettable . . . . Hahn's self-revelation is so startling, and her details so extraordinary, that she virtually detonates her poems with energy. . . . Plath, Ai, Sexton—Hahn brings to mind those vivid, violent poets, but her voice is clearly her own, strong and without either shrillness or shame."—Patricia Monaghan, Booklist"In her third book of poems, Confession, Susan Hahn continues to refine her amazing capacity to disquiet, disgust and fascinate. This may not sound like a recommendation, but it is. . . . The precision of Hahn's language stands out even more clearly when compared to the looser, baggier free verse that dominates so much contemporary poetry."—Maureen McLane, Chicago Tribune

Holiday (Phoenix Poets)

Holiday is a book of poems chiseled into both public and private calendar markers, where the unfinished self seeks, desperately and defiantly, resolution through either completion or negation. The poems are filled with unflinching irony and an intelligence that celebrates and laments personal, mythic, biblical, and historical events.

Harriet Rubin's Mother's Wooden Hand (Phoenix Poets)

Redolent of Chicago's ethnic culture, Susan Hahn's intensely personal lyrics emerge from the world of an extended Jewish family and its neighbors. The voices of these immigrants are imbued with the profound effects and memories of the journey "From a patrolled town in the Ukraine/to Baltimore on a boat, then a train to Chicago." Hahn's poetry is about love and the lack of love, about rejection, and about other forces—generational, political, social, and sexual—that overwhelm individuals and cause them to limit themselves both physically and psychologically.

The Note She Left: Poems

Hahn’s new collection wrestles with the elemental and enduring challenges of the human condition: What can we use from our spiritual heritage? How should we find relief? How, after it all, do we live? The poems are presented as a letter to the world from a woman preparing to leave it. In four sections—“The Bells,” “The Crosses,” “Widdershins,” and “Afterwor(l)d”—she contrasts the hope against the dark that is embodied by an amulet or cross with the abased resignation of torture, failed prayers, and witchcraft. Though Hahn’s vision is a dark one, its dramatic emotional depth speaks to a human power that, though damaged, can still engage.  from The Crosses (V)Cross my fingers, cross my heart,arms extended, legs together, not apart,I make of myself a cross.In my pockets bright blue beads,small clay gods, scarabs,four-leaf clovers, bejewelled mezuzahs.In my hat cockleshellsto exorcize the demons,to keep hidden the seventh chakra,the tonsure, the bald compulsion.Cross my fingers, cross my heart,arms extended, legs together, not apart. In my ears little bells of confusion,to frighten away eyes of the evil.On my breast a foul sachetto repel the lick of the Devil.Cross my fingers, cross my heart.In my window a glass witch ballto guard against the shatterfrom intruders.Cross my fingers.

Northwestern University Press

Hahn’s new collection wrestles with the elemental and enduring challenges of the human condition: What can we use from our spiritual heritage? How should we find relief? How, after it all, do we live? The poems are presented as a letter to the world from a woman preparing to leave it. In four sections―“The Bells,” “The Crosses,” “Widdershins,” and “Afterwor(l)d”―she contrasts the hope against the dark that is embodied by an amulet or cross with the abased resignation of torture, failed prayers, and witchcraft. Though Hahn’s vision is a dark one, its dramatic emotional depth speaks to a human power that, though damaged, can still engage.from The Crosses (V)Cross my fingers, cross my heart,arms extended, legs together, not apart,I make of myself a cross.In my pockets bright blue beads,small clay gods, scarabs,four-leaf clovers, bejewelled mezuzahs.In my hat cockleshellsto exorcize the demons,to keep hidden the seventh chakra,the tonsure, the bald compulsion.Cross my fingers, cross my heart,arms extended, legs together, not apart. In my ears little bells of confusion,to frighten away eyes of the evil.On my breast a foul sachetto repel the lick of the Devil.Cross my fingers, cross my heart.In my window a glass witch ballto guard against the shatterfrom intruders.Cross my fingers.

See the best price to sell, buy, or rent books by Hahn, Susan. BookScouter helps to compare book prices from 25+ online bookstores and 30+ buyback vendors with a single search.

Books by Hahn, Susan

See the best price to sell, buy, or rent books by Hahn, Susan. BookScouter helps to compare book prices from 25+ online bookstores and 30+ buyback vendors with a single search.

Incontinence (Phoenix Poets)

Incontinence (Phoenix Poets)

Confession (Volume 1997) (Phoenix Poets)

Confession (Volume 1997) (Phoenix Poets)

Holiday (Phoenix Poets)

Holiday (Phoenix Poets)

Harriet Rubin's Mother's Wooden Hand (Phoenix Poets)

Harriet Rubin's Mother's Wooden Hand (Phoenix Poets)

The Note She Left: Poems

The Note She Left: Poems