Birches

by Carl Adamshick

Brutal and tender, Adamshick’s spare poems recount a son’s unsentimental and powerful love for his mother, while contemplating, in the wake of her death, what it is to be truly alive.

Genres: Poetry

88 pages, Paperback

Published February 15, 2019

About the author

Carl Adamshick is an American poet. He received the 2010 Walt Whitman Award from the Academy of American Poets and his work has been published in Harvard Review, American Poetry Review, Tin House, The Missouri Review and Narrative.

Reviews

[Kevin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Just got a review copy and opened it up for an early peek (comes out February 15th). I've read a few of Carl's poems here and there but have never read a whole book before. With a dying mother of my own, I felt an instant connection to this book and read it all desperately, often pausing, devastated by some of the details (bodily, peripherally, observational, and emotionally) in the poems. It's so deeply felt and deftly communicated that it might make your heart sometimes feel like a brick. Birches is a deep, dark wonder.

[Anatoly Molotkov · Rating 5 out of 5]

"My mother is the glass cabinet/ with snow falling// to the floor of her body". A heartbreaking collection examining the loss of a parent and the changes it causes in one's personality.

[Dianah (onourpath) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Adamshick writes quiet poetry disguised as an aching love letter to the mother he lost recently. It untangles other losses, too: his innocence, his security, and his view of the benevolent world. Stark and spare, Adamshick's poetry is tightly controlled, yet it is awash with love and sorrow and grace. Beautiful.

[Evan]

"I started the year
in sleep, a dark accomplishment.
The world held at bay.

Like always, everything
will happen this year.
Accidents. Marriages.

Moments will wash us
or muddy our being.
It will be difficult. Easy."