In this bold hybrid collection of poetry, flash fiction, and Afrofuturism sci-fi, the award-winning interdisciplinary writer and author of Side Notes from the Archivist explores what happens when god is a Black woman in a town. What happens when there are multiple universes in the middle of nowhere?
And what if in each universe there reigned other Black woman gods? One million versions of god, and one million saints to watch over us? And what if this Black woman god were placed here on earth?
These are just a few of the questions Anastacia-Reneé asks in this daring and mind-bending hybrid collection. Hers is a universe of striking variety—monsters, nontraditional saints, witches, zombies, the couple in the apartment next door, the wise elders from down the block, and gods watching over us all—as well as community and connectedness.
With a prose storyline and characters that connect through family, time, and place, Anastacia-Reneé paints world(s) rich with wonder and the paranormal as she peers into the lives of everyday people and spectacular creatures inhabiting not just our neighborhoods, but other dimensions. Here in the (Middle) of Nowhere is about interstellar ancestry, community and spirituality. It is about the things we invoke, conjure, and rely on to maintain joy as we keep it moving through difficult eras. Anastacia-Reneé’s power imbues her spellbinding storytelling with lovingly rendered characters brought to life in lyrical poetry. She builds worlds within worlds and dares us to fully see and love ourselves in all our complexity.
Anastacia-Renee (She/They) is a queer writer, educator, interdisciplinary artist, speaker and podcaster. She is the author of (v.) (Black Ocean) and Forget It (Black Radish) and, Here in the (Middle) of Nowhere and Sidenotes from the Archivist forthcoming from Amistad (an imprint of HarperCollins). They were selected by NBC News as part of the list of "Queer Artist of Color Dominate 2021's Must See LGBTQ Art Shows." Anastacia-Renee was former Seattle Civic Poet (2017-2019), Hugo House Poet-in-Residence (2015-2017), Arc Artist Fellow (2020) and Jack Straw Curator (2020).
Her work has been anthologized in: Teaching Black: The Craft of Teaching on Black Life and Literature, Home is Where You Queer Your Heart, Furious Flower Seeding the Future of African American Poetry, Afrofuturism, Black Comics, And Superhero Poetry, Joy Has a Sound, Spirited Stone: Lessons from Kubota’s Garden, and Seismic: Seattle City of Literature. Her work has appeared in, Hobart, Foglifter, Auburn Avenue, Catapult, Alta, Torch, Poetry Northwest, A-Line, Cascadia Magazine, Hennepin Review, Ms. Magazine and others. Renee has received fellowships and residencies from Cave Canem, Hedgebrook, VONA, Ragdale, Mineral School, and The New Orleans Writers Residency.
Until recently, I’ve not seen eye to eye with poetry. But in the last couple of years, I’ve begun reading outside my comfort zone, engaging with difficult texts (Hoban, Joyce, Sterne), and I’ve come to realise (belatedly) that sometimes the joy comes from surrendering yourself to the language, even if you struggle to make sense of it. And that’s how I approached this wonderful, short book, a blend of poetry and flash fiction with a science fiction and supernatural bent. The premise revolves around multiple women of colour, all named Lucille, who are the Gods of the towns, villages, parishes and Universes they inhabit. They are the product of a wrecked spaceship from far, far away, also named Lucille. As readers, we are introduced to the residents of Lucille’s worlds, including alternate realities populated by saints, zombies, vampires and ordinary people — seeking happiness, community and love. So much of the book resonated with me; I especially enjoyed Renee’s wicked sense of humour. (I laughed out loud at the section lyrically describing the patronage of each Saint). I can vouch that the book rewards re-reading. What doesn’t entirely make sense intiially, comes into a sharp relief on a second go around. I loved this book. I think you will too.
I read this over the course of a day during a travel layover and it was a wonderful way to pass the time! This book weaves poetry with a narrative that I loved. I liked the perspectives from the apartment tenants throughout the layers of the book. Lucille Clifton and Audra Lorde are given their call-outs and I think this book is a beautiful ode to their work as inspiration for present and future writers.
Here in the (Middle) of Nowhere by Anastacia Reneé is quite the unique journey! It explores magical realism, spirituality, and tight-knit communities through a diverse and poetic lens. Reneé's storytelling is like nothing I've encountered before, seamlessly blending elements of sci-fi, short stories, and modern life into a captivating tapestry. If you are craving a fresh and engaging read, definitely give this one a shot!
Thank you to Book Sparks, NetGalley, and Amistad for the gifted copies of this book.
Thank you to NetGalley and Amistad for an Advanced Reader’s Copy in exchange for an honest review.
Admittedly, this was a challenging read for me. I am not used to reading poetry, nor prose set in such creative formats. This is a mix of science fiction and poetry, that focuses on Lucille – a female Black god that takes many forms and gives the reader a bird’s eye view of her complex and multilayered universe.
Renee seems to be in a league of her own with this work. Futuristic, thoughtful, and dimensional.
Reading in the Bible about the Garden of Eden, there is notable tidiness to events, to the people there (there’s just two of them!), to the supernatural presences cast as the good one versus a snake. It’s simplistic. But I would argue the simplicity comes from how people talk about it rather than what the Bible actually says. There’s lots of loose edges there. Like in the beginning there’s some host around God telling Him things are looking good. And the snake character isn’t even capital-E Evil. The Bible calls it “crafty.” I guess you could say the Garden of Eden is like fast food mythos, providing handy concepts to explain the beginning of everything. Maybe that’s necessary, because the beginning of everything is probably complex. But for those prepared for complexity, I would recommend reading the Bible for its porousness. And even the “flatness” or “matter-of-factness” that appears in some stories, like the Garden of Eden, I feel like those stories are aware their literalness is only part of the story. Like is it so bad to think of the Bible as an ethos of open doors.
Which is assuredly the ethos of Anastacia-Reneé’s book, located “here” or “nowhere” or whatever “middle” might mark the 33rd floor of the Atlantic Apartments. And, for sure, the doors to those apartments open freely. There’s stories deep in the walls of those apartments. And those stories lead to digression, to other times, to possible time lines. And in the 1984ish time represented there, there is some version of a beginning time that was beginning when other things were beginning, like God was beginning things. And maybe many people in the world where her book takes place have thought about God, and they might have wondered if in the midst of their various stories God was ever just god, did god want someone there to nurture him and give him his space. Was god friendly with lucile? Or nurtured by one of lucile’s versions? Was the god that would grow into God eager for the people that come to gods and worship them? Did anticipation make that god Impatient? Maybe we, as readers of the creation occurring at the Atlantic Apartments, could learn about what god would have gained from a lucile.
I like thinking of Anastacia-Reneé’s book like it’s the Garden of Eden, but with actual people living there. I mean no shade to Adam and Eve. They’re only as good as the writing that makes them exist. But this “town” spiritually governed by six different lucile’s is so much more interesting. This 33rd floor hallway of the Atlantic Apartments has parallel dimensions that play out what should have happened and what did happen and what we need to see could happen so we have a better perspective. And the people who live there have their own demands on what’s offered as truth. And maybe some facts would be factual in a different way if the reader were to see it the way people in those Atlantic Apartments saw it. And the writer, Anastacia-Reneé might be sympathetic to all these cross-currents of talk and impression, but she is the writer. She does presumably have her own special connections to all the lucile’s. She is the one who helped bring them into existence in this book! And we can thank all these luciles for the full scope of her generosity they’ve proffered the writer.
I apologize for the enthusiasm at the base of this review. And the various particularities I haven’t observed here. But just like when I read The Descent of Alette for the first time, the absolute reach of the mythos kind of leaves me unhinged. Now mix that with Toni Morrisson’s Jazz, especially the claustrophobic perspective when everyone is watching everyone else. And maybe I’d add Joshua Bennett’s Owed, for the real-world-actual-history feeling Anastacia-Reneé’s multiple dimensions feel like they occupy. And maybe you’ll forgive me for my desire to participate in this book’s world-making rather than merely observing it.
This is really cool; I especially liked the parallel universes, idea of many daughter-gods being semi-cut off from their mother/the core town, and the little love stories (between a "black girl vampire" and a "circumstantial zombie," between two women who are now in different realities). Really enjoyed the mix of Afrofuturism/sci-fi and poetry/experimental-feeling prose.
This does some general, sort of spotty world-building regarding a family tree of Black women gods and the multi-dimensional world they spread throughout, then fills that world with a mix of magical and everyday characters. The intros to the many saints (e.g., of finding the right shade of lipstick, of traffic, of surviving traffic stops) and people living in a multidimensional apartment building were moving. I wanted to know more, but it also felt complete.
Throughout, there's a lot of humor and many different forms, both of which keep this moving/playful/dynamic, even when I sort of got "bogged down" in the confusing nature of some of the individual pieces. Relatedly, I loved bloody mary's conjuring of childbirth in the mirror, the personification of grace before she was grace, and the choose-whatever-you-want-to-be for 48 hours world. Lots of twists within individual pieces, and nice repetition of images (e.g., ice/freezing, humming) throughout.
I definitely had to go through this twice, but mostly in a good way (after all, the last poem is "revisit"). I was left wondering/wishing I understood a bit more about how people related to the gods; it seemed that some people were deeply connected to them, while other people weren't/maybe didn't know they existed? It wasn't clear to me what kind of future the individual gods, or all of them together, wanted to create? But, perhaps, not the point.
I don’t have the words right now to describe this piece of literature. This was a challenging read for me as I don’t read poetry often, not since my university days. That’s mainly because I typically feel overwhelmed by the highly enigmatic nature of poetry. I worry that I’m misinterpreting the poet’s words. This hasn’t changed.
Anastasia-Reneé’s work consists of mostly free-verse poems, divided into three parts or “layers”. I found the poems and flash fiction in Layer III to be more enjoyable, probably because they were the most prose-like and easiest for me to interpret. Some of the major themes include identity and gender.
I think the topics addressed in this book are very powerful and relevant in today’s society, but I also feel that I am very much in over my head here to fully comprehend this poet’s work.
Thank you to BookSparks for an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.
In an age of polarization, Anastacia Renee co-creates a world of a confluence of possibilities with Lucille(s) as guide, conjurer, and Ancestor. A necessary read particularly in tandem with Side Notes from the Archivist. Anastacia is the leading edge of cross-genre writing.
this was different to other things i’ve listened to in the past and so so strange. i listened to the audiobook (read by the author) and i loved it — but i definitely wanna reread it in book form in the future, to fully emerge myself in the stories. it was a delight to read though 💛
A strange, beautiful kaleidoscope that would form stunning portrays or dizzying ideas and then fizzle into chaos. A bold experience that it is best to just go along with.
When I first read the description of this book - a bold hybrid collection of poetry, flash fiction, and Afrofuturism sci-fi - it skyrocketed to the top of my TBR.
Anastacia-Renee's language isn't mere prose; it's a symphony. And I lovingly glided through the pages of the world she created by asking - what if god was a Black woman?
Lucile isn't your typical protagonist. She's a space shuttle ship grounded on Earth, her roots tangled in soil, and her branches reaching for the sky. But Lucile isn't alone. Other luciles—women of color with inexplicable powers—sit on their porches, gazing at their trees. Within this multidimensional town, we encounter postapocalyptic realities, where you can be anything for 48 hours. Each house holds its own labyrinth, and Lucile's skeleton key unlocks secrets across the multiverse.
I was obsessed with this @booksparks #wrc2024 selection that paints a cosmic portrait to redefine Black and Queer femininity with snackable stories that feature everything from teenage vampires to a patron saint of lipstick.
I'm a sucker for books that play with form, and getting a short combination of speculative poetry and short stories, all based on a normal black woman in the suburbs ascending to godhood and experiencing her existence across other dimensions is a hell of a hook. Ms. Renee gets to play with and break poetry forms here, and it was just a genuine delight to read through. Pick this up if you're looking for something new and want to support a Black queer writer.
As a fan of longer, more complex poetry I found this book most satisfying. The storytelling is both intricate and bold, deeply thoughtful and hilarious.
I absolutely plan to re-read this collection as so many phrases and ideas are so rich and compelling. The sci-fi aspect reminds me of Stan Lee’s Alliances and doing a tandem read would be so fun