Timothy Gager (Fiction, Poetry) | Dedham, MA
- Anti-Social Network (Red Neck Press, 2013). Poetry.
- These Poems are not Pink Clouds (Propaganda Press, 2008). Poetry.
- This is Where you go when you are Gone (Cervena Barva Press, 2008). Poetry.
- The same corner of the Bar (Ibbetson Street Press, 2003). Poetry.
Press & Reviews
“Timothy Gager is a genius of the quotidian, keenly observing the details of our lives and rendering them so that we can hear the deep pulse of our identities, of our pure being, within them. The Shutting Door is a ravishing, wonderful, enlightening book.”
—Robert Olen Butler, Pulitzer Prize Winning Author
“Timothy Gager’s stories came at us like a brisk punch to the heart. His characters are profane and tender, dazed and confused, out of work and short on options. And yet they remain stubbornly vibrant, these damaged children of Bukowski, illuminated by their desires and inflamed by unreasonable hopes.”
—Steve Almond, author of The Evil B.B. Chow, Candy Freak, and Not That You Asked
“In The Shutting Door, Gager studies the crisp space between life’s summation and the gathering of what harvest may wait for us as we work at a more genuine quality of being. In a world of social media he shows himself brave and committed to truth, but not without humor. This is a delightful new work from a poet who consistently shows that he believes in what connects us and makes us human.”
—Afaa M. Weaver, author of The Government of Nature
“Treating A Sick Animal is a trip— or actually it is 40-plus quick and vivid trips into Timothy Gager’s untamed fictional terrain. Sometimes surreal, sometimes all-too-real, these Flash Fictions always surprise. Fasten your readerly seatbelt, choose your own adventure and enjoy the wild rides.”
—Elizabeth Searle, author of Celebrities in Disgrace and Tonya & Nancy: The Rock Opera
“Timothy Gager’s flash fictions are full of flashes of insight into the great human predicament.”
—Michael Kimball, author of Dear Everybody
“Worldly, witty, and often satirical, these poems also have a tender side, a feeling of loss and longing, a sense of thwarted hopes and dreams. It is as if the poet has glimpsed something wondrous and maybe all-important just beyond a door that is closing. What did he see in there? Was it his beloved, or the remnants of love grown cold? Was it the hem of God, or the remnants of a faith no longer held? Was it a little bit of truth and beauty mixed together, or was it the death of either, or both? Questions on this order are at the heart of these poems, and the glimpses of the answers are real enough to help us keep going.”
—Fred Marchant, author of The Looking House