I’m a long-time fan of Galia’s potent, surprising, fearless and funny work. She’s manipulating and blending forms to create an entirely singular voice and I love to hear it.

 

- Max Porter (Grief is the Thing With Feathers, Lanny)

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A fascinating and formally inventive text which seems to constantly disintegrate and remake itself before the readers’ eyes; using as its materials the everyday surreal of real life.

 

- Andrew McMillan (Pity, Physical, Playtime)

 

Somebody Should Have Pressed Record is a brilliant, caustically funny meditation on lost love and impermanence via the most unhelpful simulacrum of a lover in the form of Joe. But it also reminds us that so much of love is an act of imagination. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever read a collection simultaneously quite so heart-breaking and quite so enjoyable. It’s an urgent kind of invention – a search for the lost key, the right analogy that might make the pain go away; a shockingly familiar refusal to accept that the sadness is what it is; but the intensity of imagination sufficient to create a thousand reasons why it just might possibly be something else entirely.

 

- Luke Kennard (Black Bag, The Book of Jonah)

 

Inventive, tender, dazzlingly original, this collection examines what it means to ‘archive loneliness’, to speak when it seems impossible and to be answered. Once you’re in the world of this book, you’ll want to stay.

 

- Helen Mort (Division Street, Black Car Burning)

 

Galia Admoni creates beautiful, tender poems. Hers is a voice for the fragile, a completely new take on unrequited love, observations of privacy and invention, blending the real world and fantasy, delivering a quiet stoicism that makes this collection a page-turner as you realise you are spending time with someone you are rooting for, wanting to know more about the voice you are seeing on the page. This collection is vital for the world we live in today and delivers a quiet lyrical hope.

 

- John Osborne (Most People Aren't That Happy Anyway)

 

In Galia Admoni latest collection, she experiments with form as she has in her previous books, but here she experiments with where we, the readers, are taken, just as she experiments with the sense that she knows more about her readers than she lets on. Here, she creates the perfect balance between claustrophobia, a strange sense of foreboding, and the beauty of love in isolation. 

Admoni’s writing reflects an ability to slip between form, image, page, obsession, and yet, always surprise the reader in where she takes us. I was fascinated with the diagrams in the book as poems in themselves, and the self-questioning of is this how I am? 

Through Admoni’s sense of humour, her use of contemporary surrealism, her observation of compulsion as a study results in an addictive read, leaving the reader to consider: Is the act of reading the book, an example of Auto-Destructive art which frames the book’s narrative?

Galia Admoni’s latest collection, Somebody Should Have Pressed Record, left me feeling as if I was in a surreal version of Through the Keyhole. This unrest she creates in the book though, is one of joy, and through its multi-form, the collection moves between loneliness, obsession, rooms in a flat, and how this thing called love manifests itself into our own lives.

 

- Wendy Allen (Portrait in Mustard, Plastic Tubed Little Bird)

 

Nobody pressed record - but if they did what would they have captured? Imaginary friend, figment, daemon - or nothing but stale bedsit air?

With pinpoint precision, Galia Admoni slits a hole through feminine city life and slips in an imaginary Joseph Gilgun. Her conjured companion twists to several forms across the collection - lover, father, conscience, ghost and ruin. Together, Galia and her daydreamed sidekick give shape to absence and stare deep into the illusions we show ourselves in order to survive.

Nobody pressed record, but this is a collection I'll rewind and press play on again and again.

 

- Laurie Eaves (Biceps, Metal Gear Sonnets)