I got Ivan Blatny translations The Drug of Art, edited by Veronika Tuckerova, in the mail the other day and I'm pretty sure it has become my new frontrunner for best books of the year. I've had it two days and it's already bent out of shape and has had coffee (Mathias') spilled all over it. When I look for a book of poetry, this is what I'm looking for. Weird, funny, fragile. Some of the poems are multi-lingual. And I like that the existence of this book depended on so many talented editors, translators, and poets. The Introduction was fascinating. I've rarely so quickly wanted to become a total fan of a poet, to give so much of my focus over to one poet. I'm considering putting this book on my comps list (a focus on 20th century Eastern European translations) despite the fact that the list has already been signed. It is so worth the paperwork mess that move will cause.