Course

by Athena Kildegaard

In Course, Kildegaard traces the course of her mother's life and death, and of her own grief. At the same time, it follows the course of the river where her mother's ashes were placed.



The poems in Athena Kildegaard’s Course contain multitudes: garter snakes, bats, herons, wild rhubarb, “the thousand / reed-hidden / black-birds.” But their central concern surrounds the complex life and death of a mother, and attendant mourning for her. Trust and doubt coexist in these pages, and the natural world offers solace but never complete reassurance: “How vain to seek certainty,” Kildegaard writes. Indeed, the book ends with a poem comprised of spacious questions. As readers, we are caught in the current of this marvelous book, which is as honest and deep-flowing and eternal as the river that passes through its pages.— Connie Wanek, author of Rival Gardens: New and Selected Poems


“Tenderness toward existence” is the phrase that came to me again and again as I read Course, Athena Kildegaard’s marvelous new book of poems in which grief and joy course together through time and to the end of time. “Any tender place for death,” Kildegaard writes. But equally true, as this book so lovingly demonstrates, is that any tender place is a place for life. Athena Kildegaard has written a book which has found a true home for tenderness in a world so desperately in need of it. —Jim Moore, author of Underground: New and Selected Poems

Genres: Poetry

Unknown Binding

Reviews

[Lea Grover · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Course" is a stunning volume. Often when I read novels, I find myself recommending them to people as I read them, but this is the first time a book of poetry has compelled me to share so much, so often.

This collection of poems tells a story, of the author's mother, their nuanced relationship, her mother's death, and then Kildegaard's grief after her mother's passing. The moment my reading went from my usual introspective enjoyment of the language to a pressing need to share this book with the world was not "Speak to the Earth" in the first part, a haunting meditation on suffering and mortality, but "Mornings Before the Texas High-Noon Heat," an everyday observance of the author's mother hanging out the laundry, which places the events of the book in a particular place and time, tenderly, and with deep humanity.

The poems inside this book encompass so much of grief: remembrance, sadness, nostalgia, anger, even bargaining makes an appearance. Not in a contrived, stages-of-grief kind of way, but organically. Even the way Kildegaard recycles particular imagery, patterns, and even titles are reminiscent of the familiarity in mourning. Perhaps the most direct of the poems is "What the Dead Do for the Living," about making a pie from fruit preserved by a late aunt.

This is a book that demands re-reading, that insists on being shared.

I haven't felt so personally spoken to by a poetry collection in twenty years, and I will be seeking out more of Kildegaard's work. I recommend you do the same.

[Ann · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a deeply personal book, written in Athena's characteristic lyrical voice. Many nature and musical references, with an overarching story about her mother. Lovely.

[Sara · Rating 5 out of 5]

Athena Kildegaards poems are like magic bags of holding--they look like they will be small and simple on the outside, but on the inside contain depth and complexity, all while maintaining their clean and sparse lines. There is so much depth of feeling here that I know I will be visiting this book over and over again.