The Missing Pieces is a list not only to be read an item at a time, but, as the very cover of the book itself might imply, to be viewed as a mishmash of things forgotten, and of things we need to dutifully remember.—Micah McCrary, Bookslut—
Into a contemporary landscape of data mining and information fracking comes Henri Lefebvre’s The Missing Pieces, a beautifully absurd accumulation of useless numbers and gravid blankness…. Like history’s own compacted narrative, Lefebvre’s economy of restraint holds countless events suspended in a semicolon.
I can’t recommend it enough. The entries are short, tightly written fragments—a funny, absurd, poignant and melancholy gathering of things that once were, but are now gone.
, Los Angeles Times
The Missing Pieces has as much to do with presence as with absence, and this tells us something about the canon, and—forgive me—about ‘poetry in general.’ I mean that no equivalent list of artworks or gains or successes could be so powerful as The Missing Pieces.