'In the midst of change, this book comes with its own bewilderment, yielding, and accounting. Where does 'I' begin or where does 'I' become something else, as poet and poem constantly reshape each other? Jones speaks the world as she sees it, with a poetry negotiating the ancient mythic and the now, where boundaries are disordered and rearranged in a geography of emotions. It also pays homage to major influences in various, sometimes playful ways. This book is digressive, idiosyncratic, queer and challenging. At the same time it is rhythmic, lyrical, and recuperative.' (Publication summary)
'In this superb new book of work, Jones orients herself towards both the disquieting future and the unruly past, both of which haunt and disrupt the present. Her book balances a fierce and tender attentiveness to the body, desire and the 'wild light indoors' with the jostle and hum of the world. A History Of What I'll Become is a gorgeous, unsettling, and highly memorable addition to Jones's already remarkable oeuvre.' (Introduction)
'Adelaide poet Jill Jones sits down 1,525.5 km from me, Claire Albrecht in Newcastle, to discuss her sparkling twelfth book A History of What I’ll Become. That’s a lot of ground to cover – along the way we talk grit, sexuality, anxiety, and the way these might be captured by observations and processed by repetition, hesitations, and formal experimentation into a poem. We dig up the sublime and consider shared modes of composition between poetry and a symphony. We die symbolically on the beach. We write to control. Strap in.' (Introduction)
'The year 1599 was Shakespeare’s annus mirabilis – a year in which, after a relatively barren period, he wrote four masterpieces: Julius Caesar, Henry V, As You Like It, and Hamlet, spanning the First Folio’s three genres of history, comedy and tragedy. The achievement of this period was crowned with the Bard’s longest and most enigmatic play, Hamlet. For me, Hamlet is Shakespeare’s great open poem – the play more than any other that points to the generative power of language. I think of Shakespeare (always writing by candlelight in a small room above the front bar of a London pub) in love with writing, amazed by what he was writing, unable to keep the profusion of his verse within the tidy lines of a plot.' (Introduction)
'This week’s poem is by Jill Jones, an acclaimed, prolific poet who has written, at my count, 11 full-length collections of poetry during the past 28 years and a number of other chapbooks to boot. That’s an exceptional tally.'
'The year 1599 was Shakespeare’s annus mirabilis – a year in which, after a relatively barren period, he wrote four masterpieces: Julius Caesar, Henry V, As You Like It, and Hamlet, spanning the First Folio’s three genres of history, comedy and tragedy. The achievement of this period was crowned with the Bard’s longest and most enigmatic play, Hamlet. For me, Hamlet is Shakespeare’s great open poem – the play more than any other that points to the generative power of language. I think of Shakespeare (always writing by candlelight in a small room above the front bar of a London pub) in love with writing, amazed by what he was writing, unable to keep the profusion of his verse within the tidy lines of a plot.' (Introduction)
'In this superb new book of work, Jones orients herself towards both the disquieting future and the unruly past, both of which haunt and disrupt the present. Her book balances a fierce and tender attentiveness to the body, desire and the 'wild light indoors' with the jostle and hum of the world. A History Of What I'll Become is a gorgeous, unsettling, and highly memorable addition to Jones's already remarkable oeuvre.' (Introduction)
'This week’s poem is by Jill Jones, an acclaimed, prolific poet who has written, at my count, 11 full-length collections of poetry during the past 28 years and a number of other chapbooks to boot. That’s an exceptional tally.'
'Adelaide poet Jill Jones sits down 1,525.5 km from me, Claire Albrecht in Newcastle, to discuss her sparkling twelfth book A History of What I’ll Become. That’s a lot of ground to cover – along the way we talk grit, sexuality, anxiety, and the way these might be captured by observations and processed by repetition, hesitations, and formal experimentation into a poem. We dig up the sublime and consider shared modes of composition between poetry and a symphony. We die symbolically on the beach. We write to control. Strap in.' (Introduction)
