From the shores of Australia to the concert halls of Wisconsin, Talbot's poems steadily tease out life's "joyful absurdity." Here we meet unusual people-the devil, a maestro, a mathematician-caught in endearing moments of silliness or grandeur. Talbot captures the ephemeral feelings of connectedness we all have but seldom manage to put into words. The natural world, too, comes alive under the watchful eye of this poet-in spontaneous rhythms that honor her musical heritage. So, sit back with a cocktail (or a bold latte), and let Talbot's verse bring "a peachfire of/ ripeness in each hand/ to your darkness."
-David Southward, senior lecturer at Honors College, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee
Katrin Talbot's The Devil Orders a Latte is a tour-de-force delight. Her poems are witty in all the right places. They're musical in subject and language. No surprise! She's a talented musician. Her imagery is deeply observant. She's also a photographer. "She wanted us to infuse the landscape with music." In these poems, readers will meet Madame Nannette, who designed pianos in the early 1800s, a female rabbi getting a manicure, and the devil, of course. "Last night/ I shoveled the stars off/ the walks/ and threw them into the galaxy/ ...." Simply lovely!
-Karla Huston, Wisconsin Poet Laureate 2017-2018, author of Ripple, Scar, and Story
"... we all have our voices,/ raise them in the saying vein" charges poet Katrin Talbot in her collection, The Devil Orders a Latte, with poems rich in seeing but also feeling-one might say taut, her lines swift and spare down the page. If you've ever wondered if there's music in everything, Talbot answers with a resounding YES!: the music of the concert hall, the music of the creatures beyond the window pane, the music of your own beating heart. She finds music in the appearance of a white deer on a far hill, "the quarter-of-a-century / dance of a gene," and the world around us, "a landscape of trill and swing." These musics and rhythms are interior and exterior, of the human world and exceeding it. Her voice telescopes in and out of experience, capturing moments large and small. The close focus on making music together is particularly fine: "a joy from friction-the/ sap on the horsehair/ grabbing the silver and/ pulling exultation out of wood."
-C. Kubasta, author of Abjectification and Of Covenants