“I admire how loss is conveyed through the image of sweat … ‘A seven-year-old is abandoned by a father… anticipates his departure, relishing every last moment that leads up to it’ … I’m very impressed by the power and economy.”
– Poet Pascale Petit discussing Nag’s poems in The Guardian
“This is a truly amazing collection … as a complete body of work, it is extremely powerful and stirring … the poems’ observations have a wonderful richness and eloquence and complexity to them and there is a strong and constant thread of humanity that flows through it all.”
– Judith Christine Mills, author and illustrator of The Goodfellow Chronicles trilogy.
“Poems are meant to be read aloud, and Sachi’s read beautifully; evoking Calcutta through the school recess and rickshaws darting pass skies reflected on puddle … just wonderful!”
– Kwai Li, Author of The Palm Leaf Fan and Other Stories: And Other Stories
In Could You Please, Please Stop Singing, Sabyasachi (Sachi) Nag takes a step away from skepticism, blending humour with shock and surprise, seeking a return to childhood in “Mamuda’s Fries,” innocence in “Conversations with the Country Activist” and fractals for the future in the yet to be invented “Seedless Avocado.” In attempting what Tomas Transromer calls “walking through walls,” Nag hurts and sickens himself with awe and rage. The title poem “Could You Please, Please Stop Singing?” purposely evokes the famous Hemingway line from Men Without Women and is central to the overall tonality of this collection, that straddles a path alternately mocking and dead serious, and that occasionally yields to contrary pulls between the banal and the sublime.
Sabyasachi (Sachi) Nag’s first collection of poems, Bloodlines, was published in 2006. He lives in Mississauga with his wife and son. Nag immigrated to Canada from Calcutta, where he was born, and many of the poems in this collection are about this city. The city’s voices offer a wide cast of characters, ranging from the cotton fluffer, the graffitist, the house help, the processionist, the busker and the bomb maker. These voices all earnestly seek to explain and answer, discovering what
they feared was lost. In that respect, Nag’s poems are about voyaging into emptiness and returning with a piece of cloud mistook for cotton candy.