What do you think?
Rate this book
Of Stars & Smoke: Poems for the dark wane of the year
Susan Rooke writes poetry and fiction, and is the author of the fantasy trilogy, the Space Between series. Her other work has appeared in many print and online publications, including The Christian Science Monitor, Coffin Bell, Concho River Review, Folio, Halfway Down the Stairs, inkscrawl, Melancholy Hyperbole, Naugatuck River Review, Red Weather, San Pedro River Review, Texas Poetry Calendar, The Twilight Zone Magazine, U.S. 1 Worksheets and Your Daily Poem, as well as a number of anthologies, including Grit, Gravity and Grace: New Poems about Medicine and Healthcare (ed. Rhonda L. Soricelli, M.D. and Jack Coulehan, M.D., M.P.H.; College of Physicians of Philadelphia 2015), Pushing the Envelope: Epistolary Poems (ed. Jonas Zdanys, Lamar University Press 2015) and The 2016 Dwarf Stars Anthology (ed. Jeannine Hall Gailey and Lesley Wheeler, Science Fiction Poetry Association 2016). A multiple Pushcart Prize nominee, as well as a Best of the Net and a Dwarf Stars nominee, Susan Rooke lives in rural Central Texas.
- GenresPoetry
48 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 12, 2023
18 people are currently reading
24 people want to read
About the author
Susan Rooke
9 books31 followersSusan Rooke is a multiple Pushcart nominee, Best of the Net and Dwarf Stars nominee, and author of the Space Between series. Her poems and short stories have appeared in publications such as The Christian Science Monitor and The Twilight Zone Magazine, among many others. She and her husband live surrounded by cows on a square of green, peaceful country in Central Texas. When she's not writing speculative fiction and poetry, she blogs fortnightly about real life, food and cocktails at SusanRooke.net
Read a long excerpt of my debut novel, The Space Between, no strings attached! https://dl.bookfunnel.com/n1znthgmmu
Read a long excerpt of my debut novel, The Space Between, no strings attached! https://dl.bookfunnel.com/n1znthgmmu
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
April 19, 2024
Displaying the joyful seriousness of language and the beauty of decay, Rooke provides a series of intermeshing and conflicting images of darker months, evoking without wallowing in the gothic.
This collection gathers twenty-eight of Susan Rooke’s poems, each connected to the last four months of the year.
As the subtitle indicates, Rooke does not shy from using literal descriptions of a year more than two-thirds over and of autumn and winter as metaphors for weakening or fading in human lives. However, she also calls upon the other permutations, conjuring up images to describe rather than comment, and using human waning as metaphors for the natural slowing of the year.
The collection is divided into four sections, September, October, November, and December, each overtly differentiated by the festivals and natural processes that mark them, and more covertly so by a subtly different flavour of optimism, emotional temperature, and inevitability. In addition to creating four gestalt perspectives, this choice to explicitly link the poems to the calendar year excludes the latter months of winter where nature still wanes before the resurgence that will come in spring; with no explanation from the poet of whether or not this comes from a casual assumption that the year ends with December, the reader is left to feel their own message on whether waning is an ending and whether the arbitrary has power.
and you, follower of certainties,
of dreams, will wake
to see the life you’ve made
becomes in flood
shadows flying beneath waves
—“Flood”
Descriptions of the year are strongly anchored in Texas—and the broader USA it lies within—a world of mesquite and grapefruit trees. However, the poems focus not merely on a female Texas poet experiencing Texas but on the broader experience of a human in winter; thus readers—at least readers embedded in the Northern Hemisphere—might come suddenly a distance in upon the pleasant realisation that the poems are not set in the world they see in autumn.
…Dust smokes
into the room, sculpts faces tenuous as clouds.
Memory of the night disintegrates. You tap
the remote, walk into the bathroom,
flip on the overhead
—“Bringing Darkness Inside”
But retain the awareness that it is not only the humans of a single state or nation who are inextricably blended and yet severed from the world, or that see beauty in the normal.
But for now the only light
is carried in a white dog, its coat
livid as milk, trotting like illusion
—“On Holynok Creek”
Rooke’s style is rich, featuring beautifully polished phrases that invite exploration rather than unfold themselves into an image. This is likely to be a joy to readers who like the shape and sound of language, the cunning of kennings, and tasting their poetry but might form a barrier for readers who enjoy a simpler starker evocation.
inclined planes and levers
shifting treacherously nearer
in the cold gulf
to the table edge of everything.
—“How Loud the Desert Darkness”
The poems are not long, few stretching beyond a page, and so this collection can be read quickly—certainly in the sense that a reader can parse the entire text in an evening. Whether a particular reader can enjoy the collection in a single sitting, or perhaps two on subsequent days, or needs to sip and nibble at it over time will depend on which aspects of Rooke’s work engage them in which ways; whether the richness of the language creates images that can shine against other effulgences, whether folded images send the mind glancing off if not felt out, whether too much gluts the soul.
The brevity is certainly not a marker of shallowness; like the season upon which it is modelled, returning again in time is likely to find the similar blended with the new. each enhancing the other.
I enjoyed this collection immensely. I recommend it to readers seeking poetry that shows both the beauty and bleakness of waning and darkness.
This collection gathers twenty-eight of Susan Rooke’s poems, each connected to the last four months of the year.
As the subtitle indicates, Rooke does not shy from using literal descriptions of a year more than two-thirds over and of autumn and winter as metaphors for weakening or fading in human lives. However, she also calls upon the other permutations, conjuring up images to describe rather than comment, and using human waning as metaphors for the natural slowing of the year.
The collection is divided into four sections, September, October, November, and December, each overtly differentiated by the festivals and natural processes that mark them, and more covertly so by a subtly different flavour of optimism, emotional temperature, and inevitability. In addition to creating four gestalt perspectives, this choice to explicitly link the poems to the calendar year excludes the latter months of winter where nature still wanes before the resurgence that will come in spring; with no explanation from the poet of whether or not this comes from a casual assumption that the year ends with December, the reader is left to feel their own message on whether waning is an ending and whether the arbitrary has power.
and you, follower of certainties,
of dreams, will wake
to see the life you’ve made
becomes in flood
shadows flying beneath waves
—“Flood”
Descriptions of the year are strongly anchored in Texas—and the broader USA it lies within—a world of mesquite and grapefruit trees. However, the poems focus not merely on a female Texas poet experiencing Texas but on the broader experience of a human in winter; thus readers—at least readers embedded in the Northern Hemisphere—might come suddenly a distance in upon the pleasant realisation that the poems are not set in the world they see in autumn.
…Dust smokes
into the room, sculpts faces tenuous as clouds.
Memory of the night disintegrates. You tap
the remote, walk into the bathroom,
flip on the overhead
—“Bringing Darkness Inside”
But retain the awareness that it is not only the humans of a single state or nation who are inextricably blended and yet severed from the world, or that see beauty in the normal.
But for now the only light
is carried in a white dog, its coat
livid as milk, trotting like illusion
—“On Holynok Creek”
Rooke’s style is rich, featuring beautifully polished phrases that invite exploration rather than unfold themselves into an image. This is likely to be a joy to readers who like the shape and sound of language, the cunning of kennings, and tasting their poetry but might form a barrier for readers who enjoy a simpler starker evocation.
inclined planes and levers
shifting treacherously nearer
in the cold gulf
to the table edge of everything.
—“How Loud the Desert Darkness”
The poems are not long, few stretching beyond a page, and so this collection can be read quickly—certainly in the sense that a reader can parse the entire text in an evening. Whether a particular reader can enjoy the collection in a single sitting, or perhaps two on subsequent days, or needs to sip and nibble at it over time will depend on which aspects of Rooke’s work engage them in which ways; whether the richness of the language creates images that can shine against other effulgences, whether folded images send the mind glancing off if not felt out, whether too much gluts the soul.
The brevity is certainly not a marker of shallowness; like the season upon which it is modelled, returning again in time is likely to find the similar blended with the new. each enhancing the other.
I enjoyed this collection immensely. I recommend it to readers seeking poetry that shows both the beauty and bleakness of waning and darkness.
October 3, 2023
This autumn-themed chapbook of poems displays the brilliance of Rooke’s writing. Like the best paintings, the writing here becomes even better with each viewing/reading. While the poetry is powerful and original, it immediately puts me in mind of Sylvia Plath’s famous line: “This is the light of mind—cold and planetary.” Rooke wins over her readers (at least this one), by the noble absence of the speaker’s personality/identity. She’s a keen observer; a dispassionate tour guide of a barren landscape dressed up only by the moon and stars. The moon imagery is marvelous. It “crouches low, glowing/like a gas lamp through a mottled silver mist.”(24) Also, it “shrugs off its silver stole…” (25) Perhaps my most favorite moon image: “A drained moon nests deeper/into the night, which needs nothing/having grown too vast too hold.”(34) The enormous sky spills its light, and is spangled with stars.
It’s really not a barren landscape after all, but an incredibly rich one. A haunting one. The natural world is the lonely poet’s toys—her play things. The speaker is outside driving, walking, and observing it through her windows. “My windows hold so little back…” (36) There’s an honesty, an unapologetic stance for her keen and often stark observations.
We discover the poet has not only seen a lot in her years, but that she’s keenly aware of aging, of time getting away from her: “Yet every gust moment/strips more time away…”(41) Time is “…gusting/past me on its split hooves.”(46) Susan Rooke’s perceptive insights suggest the way she faces the bleakness, the weariness of life, is by writing about it. It allows her a certain acceptance of the strangeness of the universe, and conversely a close reading of her poems allows us to experience that acceptance, too. These are profound and carefully-crafted poems. They are beyond memorable, I dare say—immortal, like the work of other great poets!
It’s really not a barren landscape after all, but an incredibly rich one. A haunting one. The natural world is the lonely poet’s toys—her play things. The speaker is outside driving, walking, and observing it through her windows. “My windows hold so little back…” (36) There’s an honesty, an unapologetic stance for her keen and often stark observations.
We discover the poet has not only seen a lot in her years, but that she’s keenly aware of aging, of time getting away from her: “Yet every gust moment/strips more time away…”(41) Time is “…gusting/past me on its split hooves.”(46) Susan Rooke’s perceptive insights suggest the way she faces the bleakness, the weariness of life, is by writing about it. It allows her a certain acceptance of the strangeness of the universe, and conversely a close reading of her poems allows us to experience that acceptance, too. These are profound and carefully-crafted poems. They are beyond memorable, I dare say—immortal, like the work of other great poets!
October 3, 2023
As soon as I opened this book I loved it on visual effects alone, before I'd even read a word. Firstly the cover is so atmospheric and appropriate to the time of year in which the poems are set. Secondly the book is divided into four sections for each month, September to December with beautiful illustrations to depict them. Thirdly some of the titles portray the most beautiful imagery. The author has a most natural way with words. My favourites were, so many but particularly: from September, Accident-Prone, the use of language, 'spindle of the spider's fang,' wonderful, Hawk Moths on a Migrant Night, moths make me shudder but this poem was so well drawn I could see them even though I'd never have wanted to get near! From November, The Voice of Snow. The title is so poetic in itself and the words, 'the white folds drawn across the wasting face of winter,' just beautiful. I wanted to save them to read in each month but I couldn't. I did save Michaelmas to read on the day though and I also saved October as it was only a few days away. I also saved the three poems for Halloween to read on the day for the atmosphere. This book is so aesthetically pleasing it draws you from the first moment. It is a joy to read and I shall dip into it again and again.
October 4, 2023
I read Rooke's Space Between trilogy and decided to give her poetry a try after loving her novels. Wow! Her poems are just as magical as her books. As I read the first poem in this book, I felt as if Autumn were knocking on my door, with her chill wind and whispering leaves. I would recommend this to anyone who enjoys gothic literature, poetry, or simply this more empty and eerie time of year.
October 24, 2024
As an introduction to Rooke, this is a fine collection to discover. The work is heavy and contemplative, easy to relate to, and quite often delivers sighs of both agreement and wistful knowing. Assuredly, a collection I will return to in the future.
October 20, 2023
She handles words extremely well and evokes an intentionally sad, but thoughtful mood.
March 3, 2024
The writing in this was a heavy handed for me personally so I found it hard to connect with, however, there was a few poems that stood out to me that I throughly enjoyed.
October 27, 2024
Collection September through December
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews