In women & roosters, Fenn Stewart presents a contradictory world that is both beautiful and brutal, humorous and heartbreaking.Taking its title from Galen’s claim that “all creatures are sad after sex except women and roosters,” this semi-autobiographical long poem expertly winds its way through topics as far-reaching as climate change, nature, trail-running, settler nationalism, motherhood, love, loss, and illness.In both form and content, the book revels in opposing forces. Cities, forests, and oceans are sites of both abundance and abandonment. Humans, birds, deer, crabs, plants, and trees thrive and multiply, but also get sick and die. Living things eat and are eaten, find joy and misery, run, fly, and swim―and meet natural and unnatural ends.Written in a refreshingly conversational tone, while offering striking (and at times unsettling) imagery, women & roosters is a forthright and deeply emotional triumph that will linger with readers long after its final, vibrant page.
I was in a bit of a poetry slump after reading a few collections in a row that were just OK, and then this one came along to remind me why I love the art form. This author has such an incredible way with words. This collection felt like a masterclass in doing poetry well!
Women & Roosters is an informal, conversational poetry collection that explores the contradictions of life through thoughts on nature, motherhood, and grief. The writing feels very personal and reflective—like you’re sitting with a friend who’s trying to make sense of life’s messiness.
Animal death comes up quite a bit, and that was tough to read. Without that, I probably would’ve rated this a solid 4/5. Still, there’s a lot of honesty and insight here, and I really appreciated how Stewart captures the strange mix of beauty and loss that runs through everyday life.
“I liked it better when you hadn’t gone away; I liked it better when you were mad”
“…as if not being with me all that time had cost you, tired you out…”
“Why do we all have to be stuck in whatever it is we’re stuck in?”
4.25 stars, rounded up. This slim volume of contemporary BC poetry has completely won me over. This is conversational poetry at its best: intimate, thoughtful, and quietly confident. I loved it in that rare, full-bodied way where you don’t want to analyse too much while you’re reading, you just want to stay with it, savour it when you can.
Maybe it helped that I recognised the landscapes (so much of where I live is here on the page), or maybe it was the sly musical nods (I’m convinced there’s a little Kate Bush tucked in), or the light-touch Shakespearean echoes. Probably all of it.
The pacing is beautifully varied; sometimes it's slow and lyrical, inviting you to linger, and at times propulsive, carrying you forward before you quite realise what’s happening. A small book that leaves a generous impression.