Link to Catherine Daly's review in Moria Poetry Magazine
from Publishers Weekly:
. . . Uxudo—a word, we're told, produced by computer error,
and . . . the only non-"real" word here—invites the reader into a world
of . . . semantic and phonologic echoes, an effect furthered by being
grafted onto video stills . . .
Mei-mei Berssenbrugge:
Anne Tardos’s Uxudo combines extreme sophistication with great warmth. By
using the linguistic, the filmic, the nonlinear, her surface becomes dimensional,
what I want to call an acute net, in the sense of crossings. Time and mourning
support from the outside. This is exciting and tremendously moving.
Ron Silliman:
Uxudo, a gift from technology, illuminated manuscript. Illuminated not as
in “illustrated,” but luminous, interactive in a sense that Blake would have
understood. Or Zukofsky: that language is eyes. Ears, echoes. That, in fact,
language itself, in our time certainly, must always be plural: a system of
differences, midrashim to an Ur-text that never existed but perpetually surrounds
us. Place exists, but entirely as displacement. These marvelous works reveal
our time with remarkable precision, generosity and wit. Anne Tardos sees,
hears, writes, films, acts with a clarity that is breathtaking:
Ivan was terrible.
Who am I really?
Räuberträume follitude
Uxudo.
Joan Retallack:
Anne Tardos is an extaordinary poet and visual artist who grew up in four
languages—French, Hungarian, German, and English. This did not confuse her
at all. Instead it fed her sonne & licht sense of humor. Uxudo has many
dimensions. It is faux autobiography of the truest kind. It is language play
without rival—a transgeneric play of trans: (plug in suffix) -gression, -(e)lation,
-formation, -figuration. From wonderful near-paradox like “The audience’s
willingness to be amused is not to be taken lightly” to the compound intelligence
of “unique promise-foam,” “oh-deed on laudanum,” and “Räuberträume
follitude” Uxudo is another Tardos tour-das-wunderbare!