Postscripts

by Renée K Nicholson

76 pages, Paperback

Published August 6, 2024

Reviews

[Jason · Rating 5 out of 5]

At its heart, Postscripts is a book about travel. From the hardscrabble landscapes of Appalachia, to the Old World beauty of Spain, to the remarkable solitude of Ecuador (where the speaker frequents an eclectic variety of churches), these masterful poems cover a lot of ground, often employing the concept of the "postcard" to document their journey. In this way, Postscripts feels like a journal or a family photo album that has been rediscovered in a hope chest, full of haunting secrets and surprises. In Postscripts, a lot of the travel is also figurative. Nicholson isn't afraid to tackle difficult subjects like grief and loss, and many of her poems meditate on heavy topics of social importance like healthcare, commercialism, environmental ruin, and the opioid crisis, yet the book never feels dour or depressing. There is great joy in a poem like "Zen Cancer Saloon," which reimages the chemotherapy infusion clinic as a sort of Wild West watering hole filled with a cast of memorable characters, all rallying around hope. Nicholson is often wryly funny--for instance, in her poem "Vacationland," which skillfully exploits the jingoist marketing jargon of tourism, using it as a means for exploring some public health issues that won't make it into the travel brochures. And there is also a tenderness to Postscripts, in poems like "Eucalyptus," where the poet imagines her brother, sick from chemotherapy, as a dozing koala (his favorite childhood animal). And, for that matter, you won't find a more perfect or surreal poem anywhere than "Reviewer's Notes" or "Bury the Lead." Postscripts surprises and delights at every turn--these are poems full of wonder--and Nicholson excels on the line, as she guides the journey toward its destination, a place of quiet beauty and contemplation.

[Natalie Homer · Rating 5 out of 5]

A little hope, and a little despair. A little of Mediterranean blue, and a little West Virginia gray cloudcover. “Caught / in half joy-sorrows, forever”.

I enjoyed the in-between emotional aura of Postscripts, a collection which feels chin-up and tinged with gold (golden beer, golden sanctuaries, faithful golden retrievers) but which is often also allows the darkness to intrude. Literal nighttime, star-flecked darkness as the speaker moves through cities and plazas, exits bars and churches . . . and also the figurative darkness of the death of a beloved brother, the dragging weight of cancer and treatment, the doubt at what will remain and be remembered.