Book Review- ‘Places and Times’


a collection of poetry by Arthur Turfa

“The voice behind the stories told, the memories, the dreams, the paths chosen and faces and seasons, is a loving voice, a gentle voice, a steady and constant companion to us in this world suddenly rushing open. And ushered in was I, into a meditation through stained glass the cold wind blew, as the seasons changed, and the feelings so adeptly expressed and the times so dearly explained, from the tragic and recent fall of Joe Pa and the Nittany Lions inexplicable, to the heights of Assisi and mill towns, Pennsylvania, to the converging of cultures in an ordinary stop for gas by the Interstate, to the echoes and wonders of faith intoning voices conjugating evolutions out about and falling down the steeps to the river to lost. From Parnassus to a classroom in New Mexico, the poet takes us confidently through a checkered past, always anchored by a deeper faith abiding, along the river to new and old settlements, fields that once were walls, where the fog lifts, finally, and all can be seen in like a still reflection. I was amazed at times by the imagery and the measured pace of the verses, which held my hand through to the end and new beginnings. It is no wonder how many poems here find us set upon a different hilltop, looking over near and distant lands. For it is from this vantage we get the most intimate details of a life most valuable and true. What a deep sharing, here.”  – KatYa



Read ‘Grand Theft Life’

Ame is an unusual girl. The voices in her head remind her all the time, and anti-psychotics cannot stop them. Her abduction from her adoptive home to the underworld was foretold. She begins life anew in the dark heart of an American city, part of a family she never knew she had, becoming more and more conscious of her own innate and extraordinary abilities. Though conflicted by the violent practices her people employ upon the human race, she has little choice in the matter. The alchemy is in her blood: some will live to tell… others must die.    – KatYa