Winner of the Latner Writers' Trust Poetry Prize

Introducing Karen Solie, I would adapt what Joseph Brodsky said some thirty years ago of the great Les Murray: ' . . . He is, quite simply, the one by whom the language lives'. . . And, yes, as we embark on the third millennium of our so-called Common Era, she is indeed the one by whom the language lives. --Michael Hofmann, London Review of Books

A sublime singer of existential bewilderment, Karen Solie is one of contemporary poetry's most direct and haunting voices. A poet of the in-between places--the purgatory of wayside motels and junkyards, the abandoned Calgary ski jump and the eternal noon of Walmart--her poems stake out startlingly new territory and are songs for our emerging world, an age of uncertainty and melting icebergs.

In Solie's new collection, The Road In Is Not the Same Road Out, she restlessly excavates our civilization, the moments of tough luck, casual violence, naked desire, and inchoate menace, pursuing Beauty and terror / in equal measure and fixing on the Intrigue of a boarded-up building. / We want to get in there and find out what's the matter with it. Amplifying the elegant recklessness of her Griffin Poetry Prize-winning collection Pigeon, these poems bear an uncanny poetic intelligence and unflinching vision.