Finalist, 2017 Miller Williams Poetry Prize, edited by Billy Collins “A graceful synthesis of poetry and science.” —Billy Collins Laura McCullough finds passage through the darkest times as she loses, in short order, her mother and her marriage. Through her near unbearable grief, she creates poems that slip between science and nature as she grasps at coordinates in a world spun out of its orbit. From the God Particle to toroidal vortexes, from the slippery linguistics of translation to the translation of the body, McCullough brings readers to the mystery of surrender, and the paradox that what we bear can make us more beautiful, that there is a gift in grief.
"...Maybe// that's where it began for me, this searching/for beauty in breakage, a way to bear this living./Mama, I said, these must be fallen stars." There is much breakage and an ample supply of beauty in this collection that contrasts scientific thought with emotional existence. Carefully and thoughtfully constructed and exceptionally moving.
Terrific book. Here's the introduction to my review:
In the “Series Editor’s Preface,” Billy Collins notes, “One requirement for poets is the ability to write about two different things at the same time. Seamus Heaney turns writing into a kind of digging. John Ciardi intertwines marriage and the structure of an arch” (ix). In the 2017 Finalist Miller Williams Poetry Prize book _The Wild Night Dress_ (The University of Arkansas Press, 2017), Laura McCullough does this, too, and she informs the reader up front in the Prologue’s poem, “The Love Particle,” “Love Waves is the name given to shocks / across the planet’s surface after an earthquake, what we / who are not at the epicenter actually feel” (3). She’s aware she’s going to share some intense personal experiences from her epicenter of grief and pain and her readers will experience her emotions in those Love Waves.
stunning. love and grief and observations of everyday life against the backdrop of physics. beautifully constructed, holding dualities, raw yet polished.