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Between Breath and Memory
“Replete with reflective, literary moments of appreciation and contemplation, Between Breath and Memory will reach a wide audience, from librarians seeking contemporary poetry to add to their collections and recommend to literary book clubs to individuals attracted to free verse steeped in the warm tea of life.”
—D. Donovan, Midwest Book Review
Between Breath and Memory is a gentle remembering—for the days when the past feels close and for the days when it feels impossibly far away.
A quiet companion for moments of loss and for the ordinary hours that follow it. For the love we inherit, the love we carry forward, and the love that learns how to live on in absence.
These poems are for when memory arrives unannounced—in objects, in gestures, in the body's knowing. For tenderness woven into habit.
For those learning how to carry love forward, make room for memory, and continue, slowly and patiently, one breath at a time.
Between Breath and Memory is a contemplative poetry collection about family, memory, migration, and the enduring presence of love across generations.
—D. Donovan, Midwest Book Review
Between Breath and Memory is a gentle remembering—for the days when the past feels close and for the days when it feels impossibly far away.
A quiet companion for moments of loss and for the ordinary hours that follow it. For the love we inherit, the love we carry forward, and the love that learns how to live on in absence.
These poems are for when memory arrives unannounced—in objects, in gestures, in the body's knowing. For tenderness woven into habit.
For those learning how to carry love forward, make room for memory, and continue, slowly and patiently, one breath at a time.
Between Breath and Memory is a contemplative poetry collection about family, memory, migration, and the enduring presence of love across generations.
156 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 19, 2026
About the author
Neena H. Brar
2 books90 followersA hard-core reader, Neena is married and a mom to two humans and two dogs.
Tied to Deceit, which was selected in Kirkus's 18 Indie Books Worth Discovering list, is her debut novel.
Tied to Deceit, which was selected in Kirkus's 18 Indie Books Worth Discovering list, is her debut novel.
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
“When my father loosened his hold
on the worn scaffolding of this world
and his ashes, soft as tilled dusk,
were pressed together
into the cradle of my family’s hands…”
Some poetry collections try to impress you with language. Between Breath and Memory does something quieter and, in many ways, more powerful. It builds its emotional weight slowly through memory—family stories, inherited histories, childhood fragments, and the lingering presence of those who shaped the speaker’s life.
The opening poem immediately sets the tone. It begins with the death of the father, but what unfolds is less about death itself and more about the strange persistence of connection. The speaker watches as her family carries his ashes back to the farmland where he once lived, planting a guava tree above him—an image that becomes one of the collection’s most haunting symbols of continuity and renewal.
Later, when the world finally opens again after the pandemic, she returns to that place and finds the tree already flowering:
“and when the world finally unlatched
its borders
after the long quarantine
of breath and fear,
I went back,
and by then the guava—
green-hearted, tireless—
was already freckled with flowers,
pale as whispered benedictions,
and I gathered a few petals
cool and frail
as the last syllables
of a remembered blessing.”
That moment captures what the book does best: it turns personal grief into something gentle and almost sacred. Loss is never treated dramatically; instead it is woven into ordinary objects, gestures, and landscapes.
Many poems revolve around family memory—stories about grandparents, childhood homes, and the quiet resilience of earlier generations. One particularly striking poem recalls a grandmother who survived a childhood where girls were rarely allowed to live, and how a father once carried two frightened children away from danger on horseback. The poet reflects on that moment with a sudden realization: that her own life exists only because someone once chose compassion over despair.
Throughout the collection, everyday objects become vessels of history. A wooden chest brought with a bride to her new home. Handwoven blankets that travel across generations and continents. A sofa carefully chosen by a father for his daughter’s dowry and preserved decades later because it still carries the memory of his hand.
Even the smallest childhood scenes are rendered with warmth. In one poem, siblings sit drawing imaginary worlds together in the quiet heat of afternoon:
“jungle beasts skulking in waxy greens,
parrots loud as festival drums, rivers
coiled in impossible blues…
and as we drew,
leaning shoulder to shoulder
in that careless hush of childhood,
I wondered what unseen hand
had carved so much quiet into the day.”
These moments accumulate until the reader begins to feel the deeper structure of the book: a meditation on inheritance. Not just land or objects, but habits of care, storytelling, resilience, and love.
The poems about the father are especially moving. They portray him not as a mythic figure but as someone whose kindness was expressed through simple acts—helping neighbors, teaching patiently, or quietly taking responsibility for the people around him. In one reflection, the poet realizes that this kind of everyday generosity takes a kind of courage that rarely receives applause.
By the end of the collection, grief begins to soften into something calmer. The speaker dreams of the father not as someone lost, but as someone who has simply moved into another realm of memory and imagination:
“Know that my tears have gentled—
for so many nights they sat with me
at the edge of the dark…
and when you come, it is without weight,
as if you have forgiven my living,
and I have forgiven your leaving.”
What makes Between Breath and Memory memorable is its quiet sincerity. These poems are not trying to dazzle or shock. Instead they work like family stories told slowly over time, each one adding another thread to the fabric of remembrance.
By the final pages, the reader has traveled through farms in Punjab, childhood streets in India, and winter evenings in Canada—all connected by the fragile but enduring ties of family.
It’s a collection that reminds us how memory works: not in grand moments, but in the small scenes we carry long after they’ve passed.
on the worn scaffolding of this world
and his ashes, soft as tilled dusk,
were pressed together
into the cradle of my family’s hands…”
Some poetry collections try to impress you with language. Between Breath and Memory does something quieter and, in many ways, more powerful. It builds its emotional weight slowly through memory—family stories, inherited histories, childhood fragments, and the lingering presence of those who shaped the speaker’s life.
The opening poem immediately sets the tone. It begins with the death of the father, but what unfolds is less about death itself and more about the strange persistence of connection. The speaker watches as her family carries his ashes back to the farmland where he once lived, planting a guava tree above him—an image that becomes one of the collection’s most haunting symbols of continuity and renewal.
Later, when the world finally opens again after the pandemic, she returns to that place and finds the tree already flowering:
“and when the world finally unlatched
its borders
after the long quarantine
of breath and fear,
I went back,
and by then the guava—
green-hearted, tireless—
was already freckled with flowers,
pale as whispered benedictions,
and I gathered a few petals
cool and frail
as the last syllables
of a remembered blessing.”
That moment captures what the book does best: it turns personal grief into something gentle and almost sacred. Loss is never treated dramatically; instead it is woven into ordinary objects, gestures, and landscapes.
Many poems revolve around family memory—stories about grandparents, childhood homes, and the quiet resilience of earlier generations. One particularly striking poem recalls a grandmother who survived a childhood where girls were rarely allowed to live, and how a father once carried two frightened children away from danger on horseback. The poet reflects on that moment with a sudden realization: that her own life exists only because someone once chose compassion over despair.
Throughout the collection, everyday objects become vessels of history. A wooden chest brought with a bride to her new home. Handwoven blankets that travel across generations and continents. A sofa carefully chosen by a father for his daughter’s dowry and preserved decades later because it still carries the memory of his hand.
Even the smallest childhood scenes are rendered with warmth. In one poem, siblings sit drawing imaginary worlds together in the quiet heat of afternoon:
“jungle beasts skulking in waxy greens,
parrots loud as festival drums, rivers
coiled in impossible blues…
and as we drew,
leaning shoulder to shoulder
in that careless hush of childhood,
I wondered what unseen hand
had carved so much quiet into the day.”
These moments accumulate until the reader begins to feel the deeper structure of the book: a meditation on inheritance. Not just land or objects, but habits of care, storytelling, resilience, and love.
The poems about the father are especially moving. They portray him not as a mythic figure but as someone whose kindness was expressed through simple acts—helping neighbors, teaching patiently, or quietly taking responsibility for the people around him. In one reflection, the poet realizes that this kind of everyday generosity takes a kind of courage that rarely receives applause.
By the end of the collection, grief begins to soften into something calmer. The speaker dreams of the father not as someone lost, but as someone who has simply moved into another realm of memory and imagination:
“Know that my tears have gentled—
for so many nights they sat with me
at the edge of the dark…
and when you come, it is without weight,
as if you have forgiven my living,
and I have forgiven your leaving.”
What makes Between Breath and Memory memorable is its quiet sincerity. These poems are not trying to dazzle or shock. Instead they work like family stories told slowly over time, each one adding another thread to the fabric of remembrance.
By the final pages, the reader has traveled through farms in Punjab, childhood streets in India, and winter evenings in Canada—all connected by the fragile but enduring ties of family.
It’s a collection that reminds us how memory works: not in grand moments, but in the small scenes we carry long after they’ve passed.
Review of advance copy
Between Breath and Memory is a quiet, reflective collection shaped by memory, migration, and the enduring presence of family. Many of the poems circle around the figure of the father—his life, his stories, and the long shadow his absence leaves behind. Even when the poems wander through childhood scenes or ancestral histories, his presence lingers somewhere beneath the surface.
The book moves between places and generations: Punjab, Kolkata, and Canada; grandparents, parents, and children. What emerges is a portrait of a family carried forward through stories, objects, and small rituals of remembrance. There is grief here, certainly, but also gratitude—an understanding that the past continues to breathe through the present.
Some of my favorite lines:
From Rootfire:
“When my father loosened his hold
on the worn scaffolding of this world
and his ashes, soft as tilled dusk,
were pressed together
into the cradle of my family’s hands.”
and
“and when the world finally unlatched
its borders
after the long quarantine
of breath and fear,
I went back.”
and
“and I gathered a few petals
cool and frail
as the last syllables
of a remembered blessing,
pressing them into a book
so that some small, fragrant
portion of him
might keep living
between the pages.”
From The Blue Pine Chest:
“each cut exact,
each surface planed
and polished for weeks.”
and
“until age loosened her hands,
care thinned,
watchfulness lapsed,
and termites,
patient as time,
finally learned the grain.”
From Roots:
“we children
would gather at my father’s knees,
coaxing him
to loosen one more tale
from the hush
of his faraway youth.”
and
“his voice—
soft, steady,
bone-deep as a prayer—
would lift
those memories
into the room.”
From The Mercy of a Moment:
“sometimes I think of that—
how a single turn of her hand
could have erased
the long thread that leads to me.”
From Inventory of Warmth:
“or how far love can travel
and still remain the same.”
From Summerscape:
“leaning shoulder to shoulder
in that careless hush of childhood.”
From Papa:
“helping because help had been asked for,
because a need stood in front of him.”
From In the Absence of Farewell:
“until my body gave way,
as if all that work had been
a language I didn’t know
I was speaking.”
and
“a way of holding
what I could not reach.”
From Threshold of Morning:
“the sound of your voice
felt like the hinge
on which the day turned.”
From Afterward, I Dreamt of You:
“and the darkness bloomed open
like a gate.”
From Gentled:
“Know that my tears have gentled.”
and
“as if you have forgiven my living,
and I have forgiven your leaving.”
What stayed with me most about this collection is how gently it handles grief. These poems don’t try to dramatize loss; instead they let memory unfold slowly—through stories told at a father’s knee, through objects carried across generations, through the quiet realization that love often reveals itself long after the moment has passed.
It’s a thoughtful, deeply personal book, the kind that feels less like a performance and more like someone carefully opening a family album and letting the reader sit beside them.
The book moves between places and generations: Punjab, Kolkata, and Canada; grandparents, parents, and children. What emerges is a portrait of a family carried forward through stories, objects, and small rituals of remembrance. There is grief here, certainly, but also gratitude—an understanding that the past continues to breathe through the present.
Some of my favorite lines:
From Rootfire:
“When my father loosened his hold
on the worn scaffolding of this world
and his ashes, soft as tilled dusk,
were pressed together
into the cradle of my family’s hands.”
and
“and when the world finally unlatched
its borders
after the long quarantine
of breath and fear,
I went back.”
and
“and I gathered a few petals
cool and frail
as the last syllables
of a remembered blessing,
pressing them into a book
so that some small, fragrant
portion of him
might keep living
between the pages.”
From The Blue Pine Chest:
“each cut exact,
each surface planed
and polished for weeks.”
and
“until age loosened her hands,
care thinned,
watchfulness lapsed,
and termites,
patient as time,
finally learned the grain.”
From Roots:
“we children
would gather at my father’s knees,
coaxing him
to loosen one more tale
from the hush
of his faraway youth.”
and
“his voice—
soft, steady,
bone-deep as a prayer—
would lift
those memories
into the room.”
From The Mercy of a Moment:
“sometimes I think of that—
how a single turn of her hand
could have erased
the long thread that leads to me.”
From Inventory of Warmth:
“or how far love can travel
and still remain the same.”
From Summerscape:
“leaning shoulder to shoulder
in that careless hush of childhood.”
From Papa:
“helping because help had been asked for,
because a need stood in front of him.”
From In the Absence of Farewell:
“until my body gave way,
as if all that work had been
a language I didn’t know
I was speaking.”
and
“a way of holding
what I could not reach.”
From Threshold of Morning:
“the sound of your voice
felt like the hinge
on which the day turned.”
From Afterward, I Dreamt of You:
“and the darkness bloomed open
like a gate.”
From Gentled:
“Know that my tears have gentled.”
and
“as if you have forgiven my living,
and I have forgiven your leaving.”
What stayed with me most about this collection is how gently it handles grief. These poems don’t try to dramatize loss; instead they let memory unfold slowly—through stories told at a father’s knee, through objects carried across generations, through the quiet realization that love often reveals itself long after the moment has passed.
It’s a thoughtful, deeply personal book, the kind that feels less like a performance and more like someone carefully opening a family album and letting the reader sit beside them.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Between Breath and Memory is the kind of poetry collection that feels very grounded in memory. Many of the poems revolve around family, migration, childhood, and the quiet ways love continues to shape us even after people are gone.
What I liked most is how the book focuses on ordinary moments—stories told by parents, objects kept for decades, childhood afternoons that seemed small at the time but later become meaningful. The poems often move gently between the past and the present, showing how those memories still live inside the speaker.
One of the lines that really stayed with me comes from a poem reflecting on inherited kindness:
“sometimes kindness
leaves behind a shape
others can still step into.”
I liked how many of the poems show family history through stories passed down across generations. In one poem the speaker remembers sitting with her father as he told stories about his childhood far away:
“we children
would gather at my father’s knees,
coaxing him
to loosen one more tale
from the hush
of his faraway youth.”
There are also poems that reflect on how fragile life can be and how easily things might have turned out differently. One moment that stood out to me describes how the speaker’s life exists because of a single choice made long ago:
“how a single turn of her hand
could have erased
the long thread that leads to me.”
Some of my favourite moments in the collection were the quieter childhood scenes. They capture small details really well, like afternoons spent drawing imaginary landscapes together:
“jungle beasts skulking in waxy greens,
parrots loud as festival drums, rivers
coiled in impossible blues.”
Even when the poems deal with grief, they often carry a sense of gratitude for the life that came before. By the end of the book the tone feels calmer, almost reflective, as the speaker remembers a loved one appearing gently in dreams.
Overall this is a thoughtful and heartfelt collection. It’s less about dramatic moments and more about the small memories that quietly shape who we become. The poems feel personal but also very relatable if you’ve ever thought about family history, loss, or the way memories linger.
What I liked most is how the book focuses on ordinary moments—stories told by parents, objects kept for decades, childhood afternoons that seemed small at the time but later become meaningful. The poems often move gently between the past and the present, showing how those memories still live inside the speaker.
One of the lines that really stayed with me comes from a poem reflecting on inherited kindness:
“sometimes kindness
leaves behind a shape
others can still step into.”
I liked how many of the poems show family history through stories passed down across generations. In one poem the speaker remembers sitting with her father as he told stories about his childhood far away:
“we children
would gather at my father’s knees,
coaxing him
to loosen one more tale
from the hush
of his faraway youth.”
There are also poems that reflect on how fragile life can be and how easily things might have turned out differently. One moment that stood out to me describes how the speaker’s life exists because of a single choice made long ago:
“how a single turn of her hand
could have erased
the long thread that leads to me.”
Some of my favourite moments in the collection were the quieter childhood scenes. They capture small details really well, like afternoons spent drawing imaginary landscapes together:
“jungle beasts skulking in waxy greens,
parrots loud as festival drums, rivers
coiled in impossible blues.”
Even when the poems deal with grief, they often carry a sense of gratitude for the life that came before. By the end of the book the tone feels calmer, almost reflective, as the speaker remembers a loved one appearing gently in dreams.
Overall this is a thoughtful and heartfelt collection. It’s less about dramatic moments and more about the small memories that quietly shape who we become. The poems feel personal but also very relatable if you’ve ever thought about family history, loss, or the way memories linger.
Review of advance copy received from Author
This is a contemplative and emotionally layered collection of narrative poetry that blends memoir, cultural history, and lyrical reflection. Spanning generations and continents, the poems trace the story of a family shaped by rural Punjab’s agrarian traditions and later diasporic life abroad. The book is particularly effective in capturing the subtle ways memory preserves the emotional architecture of childhood—festivals, shared meals, rooftop nights under the stars, and the everyday rituals that quietly define belonging.
At the center of the book is a profound exploration of family bonds, particularly the figure of the poet’s father, whose presence reverberates throughout the collection. The later poems dealing with his death during the COVID pandemic offer some of the book’s most poignant moments, reflecting on the difficulty of mourning across distance. The author's narrative voice is calm, thoughtful, and richly descriptive. Rather than relying on dense symbolism, the poems build their emotional resonance through storytelling and lived experience. A thoughtful contribution to contemporary diaspora poetry, the book will resonate with readers interested in family histories, migration narratives, and reflective literary verse.
At the center of the book is a profound exploration of family bonds, particularly the figure of the poet’s father, whose presence reverberates throughout the collection. The later poems dealing with his death during the COVID pandemic offer some of the book’s most poignant moments, reflecting on the difficulty of mourning across distance. The author's narrative voice is calm, thoughtful, and richly descriptive. Rather than relying on dense symbolism, the poems build their emotional resonance through storytelling and lived experience. A thoughtful contribution to contemporary diaspora poetry, the book will resonate with readers interested in family histories, migration narratives, and reflective literary verse.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
This book was quietly nourishing for my soul. Several of the poems stayed with me long after I finished reading, simple on the surface (“some loves begin crooked/ and grow truer with time.”- “Crooked Beginnings”) but filled with warmth, memory, and love for books and storytelling. Among my favorites were “Inheritance of Pages,” “Rebellion by Reading,” and “Bookfolks,” all of which I found myself rereading more than once. They capture something deeply familiar—the way a love of reading passes through families almost like an inheritance. Some others that I loved are "Roots”, “Harvest Play,” “The Arithmetic of Care”.
What I enjoyed most is how Between Breath and Memory often finds wisdom in everyday life—kitchens, childhood homes, quiet family moments—and turns them into something reflective and tender:
“some loves begin crooked
and grow truer with time.”
(from “Crooked Beginnings”)
These poems feel intimate and lived-in, full of small domestic moments that quietly reveal how stories, language, and reading shape a family across generations. A thoughtful, heartfelt collection that feels especially comforting for anyone who grew up in a house where books were always close at hand.
What I enjoyed most is how Between Breath and Memory often finds wisdom in everyday life—kitchens, childhood homes, quiet family moments—and turns them into something reflective and tender:
“some loves begin crooked
and grow truer with time.”
(from “Crooked Beginnings”)
These poems feel intimate and lived-in, full of small domestic moments that quietly reveal how stories, language, and reading shape a family across generations. A thoughtful, heartfelt collection that feels especially comforting for anyone who grew up in a house where books were always close at hand.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Between Breath and Memory is a quiet collection that asks you to slow down for a moment. The poems “Inheritance of Pages” and “Bookfolks” stayed with me the most. I always love reading poems written for fellow book lovers. The whole collection made me think about the stories my grandparents carried and the questions I wish I had asked before they passed. It also made me realize how little my mom shares about her own past and how fascinating the paths our families walked before us. Somehow, it also made me miss my sister a little more.
Poetry like this is not always the style I naturally gravitate toward, but you can feel the author’s deep love for family and heritage throughout the collection. There is something gentle and sincere about the way memory and ancestry are honored. Even if it is not exactly my usual type of poetry, I still appreciated the heart behind it.
Thank you NetGalley and Penguide Books for the ARC.
Poetry like this is not always the style I naturally gravitate toward, but you can feel the author’s deep love for family and heritage throughout the collection. There is something gentle and sincere about the way memory and ancestry are honored. Even if it is not exactly my usual type of poetry, I still appreciated the heart behind it.
Thank you NetGalley and Penguide Books for the ARC.
Review of advance copy
Between breath and memory, a life takes shape.”
This is a tender, quietly moving collection. These poems linger in the space between grief and gratitude, weaving together family, migration, and the fragile ways memory keeps people alive long after they are gone.
Some of the lines stayed with me long after I closed the book:
“I lean back into the quiet cradle
letting memory warm…”
and
“and now you come mostly in dreams.”
The author writes with gentleness and sincerity, turning ordinary moments into something luminous. A beautiful meditation on family, remembrance, and the quiet endurance of love.
Highly recommended.
This is a tender, quietly moving collection. These poems linger in the space between grief and gratitude, weaving together family, migration, and the fragile ways memory keeps people alive long after they are gone.
Some of the lines stayed with me long after I closed the book:
“I lean back into the quiet cradle
letting memory warm…”
and
“and now you come mostly in dreams.”
The author writes with gentleness and sincerity, turning ordinary moments into something luminous. A beautiful meditation on family, remembrance, and the quiet endurance of love.
Highly recommended.
May 9, 2026
I enjoyed this poetry collection, it covers themes of heritage, identity, childhood and grief. It felt like an homage to the author's parents and lineage, including the family's hardships. I liked the inclusion of the love for books that ran through her family tree. The poem 'Inheritance of pages' was my favorite, I definitely did cry.
One thing that annoyed me was the number of times the word "coax" appeared in this collection.
Thank you Penguide Books and Netgalley for this ARC.
One thing that annoyed me was the number of times the word "coax" appeared in this collection.
Thank you Penguide Books and Netgalley for this ARC.
May 7, 2026
A beautiful collection of evocative poetry offering glimmers of a past still remembered and of memories that come at the most unexpected moments. This is also a poetic catalogue of culture, difference and belonging. It conjures up vivid emotions and I felt like I was floating through each poem and taking breathe to really let the words work for me.
Beautiful!
Beautiful!
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
This format of poetry is not my usual go to, but this was a quiet and beautiful collection. Memory is at the root of this set, very reflective.
My favorites: Gentled and Threshold of Morning
Thank you to NetGalley and Victory editing for the arc!
My favorites: Gentled and Threshold of Morning
Thank you to NetGalley and Victory editing for the arc!
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews