By Ann Kjellberg, editor I was so startled by the death last night of Polish poet Adam Zagajewski, because he always seemed, though he had apparently somehow become seventy-five, like a young man. I knew him in the company of Joseph Brodsky, for whom I worked in the eighties and nineties, and Joseph’s friends. In that crowd Adam was a junior member. But it wasn’t just that.
I still remember, as if it were just a few years ago, being a kid at FSG and reviewing the page proofs of "Tremor" - and falling under its spell. And meeting Adam was such a joy. His was a gentle and dear soul, and this is hard to take in. Thank you for writing this, Ann.
Thank you, Ann, for these memories of Adam Z. So sorry he’s gone. I didn’t know him but I heard him read in Minneapolis in 2009 and was transfixed. I love your description of his shyness and his long sentences that ended with eye contact. Beautiful.
Diary: On Adam Zagajewski
I still remember, as if it were just a few years ago, being a kid at FSG and reviewing the page proofs of "Tremor" - and falling under its spell. And meeting Adam was such a joy. His was a gentle and dear soul, and this is hard to take in. Thank you for writing this, Ann.
Thank you, Ann, for these memories of Adam Z. So sorry he’s gone. I didn’t know him but I heard him read in Minneapolis in 2009 and was transfixed. I love your description of his shyness and his long sentences that ended with eye contact. Beautiful.