In Catherine Barnett's The Game of Boxes, love stutters its way in and out of both family and erotic bonds. Whittled down to song and fragments of story, these poems teeter at the edge of dread. A gang of unchaperoned children, grappling with blame and forgiveness, speak with tenderness and disdain about “the mothers” and “the fathers,” absent figures they seek in “the faces of clouds” and in the cars that pass by. Other poems investigate the force of maternal love and its at-times misguided ferocities. The final poem, a long sequence of nocturnes, eschews almost everything but the ghostly erotic. These are bodies at the edge of experience, watchful and defamiliarized.

The family response to the sudden deaths of the speaker's two young nieces is at the center of Catherine Barnett's award-winning first collection. This series of elegies records the transit of grief, observing with an unflinching eye how a singular traumatic event can permanently alter our understanding of time, danger, the material world and family. Marked by clarity and restraint, these lyric poems narrate a suspenseful, wrenching story that explores the depths and limits of empathy.

After a century of cruel experimentation, a haunted race of genetically and biomechanically uplifted canines are created by the followers of a mad nineteenth-century Prussian surgeon. Possessing human intelligence, speaking human language, fitted with prosthetic hands, and walking upright on their hind legs, the monster dogs are intended to be super soldiers. Rebelling against their masters, however, and plundering the isolated village where they were created, the now wealthy dogs make their way to New York, where they befriend the young NYU student Cleo Pira and―acting like Victorian aristocrats―become reluctant celebrities.

Unable to reproduce, doomed to watch their race become extinct, the highly cultured dogs want no more than to live in peace and be accepted by contemporary society. Little do they suspect, however, that the real tragedy of their brief existence is only now beginning.

Told through a variety of documents―diaries, newspaper clippings, articles for Vanity Fair, and even a portion of an opera libretto―Kirsten Bakis’s Lives of the Monster Dogs uses its science-fictional premise to launch a surprisingly emotional exploration of the great themes: love, death, and the limits of compassion. A contemporary classic, this edition features a new introduction by Jeff VanderMeer.

With witty wordplay and evocative language, this new poetry collection portrays Istanbul, the poet’s home city, as a crossroads of culture on par with any international capital. The oddities of place and people lead readers away from the mundane and immerse them in an unfamiliar yet humane culture that the West is veering nearer to regarding as irrevocably “other.”

Elizabeth Arnold's first book of poems documents her struggle with cancer. This book-length sequence of poems explores the depths of illness, investigating the way one's attitude towards it changes over time and how one gathers and processes information in order to make sense of it.

Life is Elizabeth Arnold's fourth volume of poems. John Palattella has written of her poetry in The Nation: "Elemental and unsparing, quiet and startling, Arnold's supple syntax is a source of gravity and vertigo. It is an acute expression of a mind's awareness of the tragedy of effacement: in burning through it, we gain a keener sense of our predicament."

Mindy Aloff, a leading dance critic who has written for The Nation, The New Republic, and The New Yorker, has brought together here a marvelous book of stories by and about dancers—entertaining and informative anecdotes that capture the boundless variety and richness of dance as an art, a tradition, a profession, a pastime, an obsession, a reality, and, for the dancer, an ideal. George Balanchine is here, and so are Fred Astaire, Margot Fonteyn, Rudolf Nureyev, Savion Glover, Martha Graham, and Lola Montez, and also stars from other arts—such as Akira Kurosawa and Bob Dylan—who have spoken about dancing with wit or illumination. There are stories about Irene and Vernon Castle, Cyd Charisse and Gene Kelly, Bob Fosse and Gwen Verdon, Paul Taylor and Mark Morris. We read about the charisma and spontaneity of Anna Pavlova, about the secret to Vaslav Nijinsky's success ("I worked like an ox and I lived like a martyr"), about George Balanchine racing to a union dispute with a bag of dimes. Many of the stories are amusing, but some are rueful, even sad, and a few are dark. Aloff concludes the volume with an essay about how dancing has been able to record its past, sometimes over centuries, and about how the art of the dancer, apparently as ephemeral in performance as cloud patterns, turns out, when conditions are hospitable, to be much more hardy and resilient than many people suppose. A glorious promenade of stories that stretch as far back as classical times and as far afield as Japan, India, and Java, this superb collection will be treasured by everyone who loves dance, whether young or old.

The ballet for hippo ballerinas and their crocodile cavaliers (plus a corps de ballet of ostriches and elephants) set to Ponchielli’s “Dance of the Hours” in Fantasia (1940) is one of the best-loved scenes in all the Disney animated features. Many viewers may not realize, however, that this ballet is no mere generalized parody of ballet mannerisms, but is in fact a deeply informed, affectionate parody of a famous scene choreographed by George Balanchine for the film Goldwyn Follies (1938) and starring his wife, the ballerina movie star Vera Zorina. With this sequence as a point of departure, Hippo in a Tutu examines the roles that dance, dancing, and choreography play in the Disney animated shorts and features. This profusely-illustrated chronicle both analyzes and celebrates dance in the Disney studios’ work, while also investigating behind the scenes to find out how Disney’s animated dance sequences have been made.

A contemporary American masterpiece about music, race, an unforgettable man, and an unreal America during the Civil War era. At the heart of this remarkable novel is Thomas Greene Wiggins, a nineteenth-century slave and improbable musical genius who performed under the name Blind Tom. Song of the Shank opens in 1866 as Tom and his guardian, Eliza Bethune, struggle to adjust to their fashionable apartment in the city in the aftermath of riots that had driven them away a few years before. But soon a stranger arrives from the mysterious island of Edgemere—inhabited solely by African settlers and black refugees from the war and riots—who intends to reunite Tom with his now-liberated mother. As the novel ranges from Tom’s boyhood to the heights of his performing career, the inscrutable savant is buffeted by opportunistic teachers and crooked managers, crackpot healers and militant prophets. In his symphonic novel, Jeffery Renard Allen blends history and fantastical invention to bring to life a radical cipher, a man who profoundly changes all who encounter him.