like a lizard crawling takes us through rites of passage, both tragic and joyful, in a life of awareness and grace. Michael Forstrom writes with the lyric expansiveness of Leaves of Grass; this is a meditation on the spiritual nature of a human being practicing with a fully engaged heart and intellect. A book worth reading and returning to again and again.
Sentence by sentence, Michael Forstrom’s like a lizard crawling traverses the range of complexities of our contemporary lives. With spare, compressed paragraphs Forstrom has found a form for exploring the flickering solitudes of suffering and intimacy, the taut surprises of sudden joy. These are Kafka’s parables tuned to the American suburbs, each one a measure of wit, pain, and the promise that meaningfulness is ever at hand.
Michael Forstrom’s like a lizard crawling is a collection of prose miniatures, hesitant, elliptical, narrative and philosophical. A man leaning and thinking in the shadow of the recent death of his wife and then a turning to the other side of the divide, toward life: childhood, family responsibility and love. He begins with the ending and the necessity of an impersonal pronoun: one can, one may, one moves onward, disoriented. Forstrom’s elegant poetic prose is subtle, but stunning, in its reminder of the fragility of life, thought, memory and writing.
Michael Forstrom is the author of a novella, Four Seasons (Spuyten Duyvil, 2013), film reviews, short fiction, and poetry, including the pamphlet, the elusive object (Phylum Press, 2007). like a lizard crawling is his second book. He works at the Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library at Yale University and lives with his wife and children in New Haven, CT.