Constellarium chronicles the author's gender transition from biological male to female, and engages the ontological quandaries that arise from this experience. Family history and religious heritage must be reckoned with along the way. In Rice's poems, the evolving nature of the self, the fluidity of identity, and the lasting influence of the past are all held up to the soul's penetrating gaze.
Constellarium is powerful and riveting. The poems center on wrenching, beautiful, and necessary depictions of transitioning from living as a man into womanhood; family relationships; dysphoria; rejection and betrayal; the break-you-down love of being a parent; surviving the world--and the poems illuminate how miraculous this can be; and so much more. Every single one will punch you hard in just the right place to break you open and allow something bigger than you inside, to inhabit you--most likely, in some form, forever. There is a sure and steady grace to Rice's voice, which communicates so much resilience despite all the pain: the many permutations of loss--of self, of love, of dreams, of certainty, of safety, and at times of life. Rice infuses her writing with enough hope to enable ours to endure. The majesty of Constellarium is undeniable and deeply rooted in the splendor language, wielded with Rice's particular blend of tenderness, precision, and unexpectedness. Readers will fall in love quickly--a doomed love, one might fear--but like all great loves, absolutely worthwhile.