Posts Tagged ‘Purgatory’

Two weeks to my book launch!

October 26th, 2016

You’re invited to help me celebrate the launching of my second book, Among the Lost!  Yay!  It’s on November 10, 2016, from 5:00 to 6:00 p.m. at Bridgeside Books, 29 Stowe Street, Waterbury.  I’ll read from it, answer questions, sign copies.  There will be refreshments at the reading and next door at Stowe Street Café.  Please feel free to pass this invitation along to others!  Here’s an excerpt from the publisher’s description of the book:


Among the Lost: In Dante’s Wake Book 2

Among the Lost, set in the modern American rust belt, is a meditation drawn from Dante’s Purgatorio.  To Dante, Purgatory was the mountain where souls not damned went after death to cleanse themselves of sin in preparation for entering Paradise.  What, Steinzor asks, are we preparing ourselves for, having lost the fear of hell and the hope of heaven, in the course of our daily urban existence?  And whatever that is, how do we go about preparing for it?.






Praise for Among the Lost

What a magnificent ascension Seth Steinzor is achieving. Having embarked on a latter-day retelling of the Divine Comedy, he has already descended into the Inferno and has now risen to the peak of Mount Purgatory, regaling us along the way with apt parallels to Dante’s infernal and purgatorial people, places, and purposes. We are indeed fortunate to have Steinzor following Dante’s footsteps.

—Rennie McQuilkin, Connecticut Poet Laureate


A Modest Jeremiad – America, Vermont and Purgatory

August 22nd, 2010

Having re-visited Dante’s Inferno in To Join the Lost, I am now engaged in re-visiting his Purgatorio.  Purgatory was the mountain Dante climbed after leaving hell, on which the souls of those whose sins had not disqualified them for salvation were purged and cured and made ready for heaven.  In my vision, the mountain has been flattened and replaced with a Rust Belt-ish city full of ambiguities, dreariness, and occasional flashes of ruinous beauty.  Unlike those in Dante’s vision, the souls in my City of Purgatory have no idea why they are there and grope uncertainly for whatever degree of tikkun may be available to them.

Once a month I attend an “open mike” poetry reading group at the Flynndog in Burlington, and usually I read something from the work in progress, discovering how it sounds in front of an audience.  It’s a great way of focusing on what needs revision, and how much.  This month, I got some warm applause for the following exerpt.

The action takes place in late August, 2005.  The character known as me has just come away from an encounter with a group of pro-life protesters outside an abortion clinic.  I have He has been walking along the road, lost in thoughts about the protesters:

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