Cover image
by Charles Browning.

 

The Mystery of the Hidden Driveway
Bloof Books

A review in Coldfront Mag
A review in Constant Critic
A review in Flyover Country
A review in Publisher's Weekly
A review in Tarpaulin Sky

Bob Hicok says,
Knox's poems knock me out. They have a pace of imagination, an ease of inventiveness that gives me an excuse to use the word brio. Liquid, they river by with their danger and violence, their stories of screwing up and not fitting in. The oddities of her work create a space in which it's possible to be oddly sincere, as in a group of poems about cars which present, over and over, the difficulty of getting anywhere without accident or breakdown. To read these poems is to believe that accident and breakdown ARE the way forward, and to feel someone trying to interrogate the past generously enough to allow room for extremes of response, from shouting to atonement."Who will tell me stories/of the flowers I actually got?" It’s as if Knox is asking, what really matters, in poems that move powerfully toward an answer.


David Kirby says,
Modern poetry in general is "mostly grey clouds," says Jennifer L. Knox in her poem 'Modern Poetry,” but throughout this collection you’ll see a red-nosed clown who dispenses useful wisdom on vegetarianism in Houston (not recommended), sex with your stepmother (fantastic!), serial car accidents (only if you want to hear your father ask “Is someone paying you to do this?”), and that Grow Your Own Cocaine Class you’ve always wanted to take at the Y (hint: after harvesting, do not leave product in unattended oven). Of all the clowns in the poetry circus, Knox is my favorite because her work is stunning to look at, full of showbiz savvy, and more than a little scary. The last thing it is is grey.

Noelle Kocot says,
Jennifer L. Knox's poems are very funny.  That goes without saying.  But they are also poignant, smart and compassionate.  I love this poetry, and I feel very close to it.  Knox is the kind of author one wants to be friends with, in Holden Caulfield's sense, after reading the work.  As far as I'm concerned, there is no higher compliment for a writer.

Sharon Mesmer says,
Man, this book is fucking genius, and I never say shit like that
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by Charles "Or What?!" Orr