Knock, Or What's in a Title

Knock.

A knock at the door.

Knock on wood.

Knocked down, knocked out, knocked dead. Knocked into the middle of another week. The hell knocked out of you, or the daylights.

Knock, knock. Who’s there?

The moment this book coalesced for me is the moment I realized it was all about knocking. It was the embodiment of a knock. An exhortation. A warning. An invitation. An act of speech, an act of entry, of falling and standing and falling again.

To knock is to insist on your own presence: yes, you exist and yes, you make noise.

To knock is to throw yourself relentlessly into the world, to come up fast against the barriers that don’t want to let you through.

Every line in this book wants you to knock. They want you to knock louder.