What do you think?
Rate this book
In Search of Equilibrium
Theresa Lola's debut poetry collection In Search of Equilibrium is an extraordinary and exacting study of death and grieving. Where the algorithms of the body and the memory fail, Lola finds the words that will piece together the binary code of family and restart the recovery program. In doing so, these unflinching poems work towards the hard-wired truths of life itself - finding hope in survival, lines of rescue in faith, a stubborn equilibrium in the equations of loss and renewal.
- GenresPoetry
80 pages, Paperback
First published February 28, 2019
4 people are currently reading
133 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
July 31, 2022
This was very difficult for me die to the subject matter.
It is raw, at times visceral, but also smart and to the point.
Memory, survival, illness and the failing body, the impact on those that experience it and in others, and death.
Powerful words, and sadness with a spectrum of light.
It is raw, at times visceral, but also smart and to the point.
Memory, survival, illness and the failing body, the impact on those that experience it and in others, and death.
Powerful words, and sadness with a spectrum of light.
June 26, 2021
This book hits different when you read it a day before scattering your grandmothers ashes. The prolonged nature of greif in the collection really stood out to me. I also loved some of the creative ways in which the poems took form, my favourite being the relationship between coding in two poems and her grandfather's previous job working with computers.
Overall this was an outstanding collection, however some poems did feel a bit repetitive or provided context that might have been better left to interpretation. It felt like it could have been perfect if only a few poems/lines were edited out, to allow more mystery and interpretation on the readers behalf.
Overall this was an outstanding collection, however some poems did feel a bit repetitive or provided context that might have been better left to interpretation. It felt like it could have been perfect if only a few poems/lines were edited out, to allow more mystery and interpretation on the readers behalf.
May 6, 2019
I really enjoyed this collection. It is a refreshing exploration of loss and faith. It made me reflect on the meaning of life and how painful it is to lose someone you love.
April 2, 2022
Such a beautiful book. It's really short but I loved reading it. There were so many things I highlighted because the analysis was just perfect
March 11, 2021
I don’t know why I didn’t read this sooner. I really enjoyed this. It’s such a moving body of work. It wasn’t too sentimental, but very poignant. I loved the imagery. She used very unique expressions and forms to analyse grief and the mental and spiritual effects of loss (adaptations of HTML codes, wiki how-tos, and bible verses). I found her use of metaphors an extremely useful tool to carry the reader along. I appreciated how tenderly she explored cultural approaches to loss.
My favourite line is in “wikiHow To Find Things You Have Lost” - We have prayed to God for his healing to arrive quicker, made it clear // we don’t want to be lab rats used to test the stretch of faith.
I can’t tell you how much that line relates to me and my approach to life right now. I don’t want to learn lessons the hard way, don’t teach me anything. I want life soft. Anyway, excellent read.
My favourite line is in “wikiHow To Find Things You Have Lost” - We have prayed to God for his healing to arrive quicker, made it clear // we don’t want to be lab rats used to test the stretch of faith.
I can’t tell you how much that line relates to me and my approach to life right now. I don’t want to learn lessons the hard way, don’t teach me anything. I want life soft. Anyway, excellent read.
December 19, 2019
there are some really strong moments (insomnia is a cheap drug, balloons), but also several moments of ‘that could do with another draft’ ‘this feels arbitrary’, and an overuse of similes.
its always weird reading spoken word poets on page. the experiences dont translate, theres a really different approach to language when its coming out as sound - time-based, ephemeral, deeply subjective. page poetry is more concrete, a strong spatial element and an indefinite amount of time a reader can spend with the piece. after siken, which was tightly and carefully composed and interlinked, lola feels off the cuff, ‘first word that popped into my head.’ but again, on stage that can be a strength.
its always weird reading spoken word poets on page. the experiences dont translate, theres a really different approach to language when its coming out as sound - time-based, ephemeral, deeply subjective. page poetry is more concrete, a strong spatial element and an indefinite amount of time a reader can spend with the piece. after siken, which was tightly and carefully composed and interlinked, lola feels off the cuff, ‘first word that popped into my head.’ but again, on stage that can be a strength.
December 23, 2023
Thoughts:
Initially thought not relatable to me - all God and Alzheimer’s and grief
But clever experimental multiple ways of poetry meant it didn’t get boring
Found myself reading the whole thing in one sitting as it became more relatable
Quotes!
God's will is a butcher's knife that cuts into one flesh to feed another a plate of life lessons.
His children crawl back into his wife's womb.
My grandmother takes in his voice
and her skin splits open like an overstuffed suitcase.
My God, it must hurt for someone you love to remember a song in clearer detail than your face.
I hid in my room for days after the mirror called me an intruderI am sure someone will miss me when my age becomes a stagnant number.
If not, I'll wave from heaven,
even if the world dismisses it as a violent wind.
*Insomnia is a cheap drug*
You were intrigued by how lack of sleep impairs the brain's ability to learn and retain information, so you began to use this as a method of forgetting yourself.
Slowly, the neocortex sheds long-term memories; you have no vivid images of days you hated yourself, days your umbilical cord grew back and tried to strangle you.
I am here because I am looking for other ways to solve my crisis aside from selling my body to the bottom of an ocean.
Childhood trauma affects
mental and physical health in adulthood.
The past hangs over me like clothes on a washing line.
Look at me.
Look at me, I am a droplet of knives.
Look at me, I am a jellyfish stinging itself.
Look at me, shame is the only asset I have in stock.
Sometimes it's impossible to tie your hollowness to tangible things.
*sight test*
Today I woke up surprised I was still alive, last thing I remember was my body swinging from a ceiling of inadequacies.
In my head I have died in so many ways I must be a god the way I keep resurrecting into prettier caskets.
Of all triggers, my reflection is the most consistent.
I am reminded I should be over this by now.
My father is a brown balloon,
but unlike the ones at parties
I do not run to catch him
when he floats from me.
behind closed doors.
I am still a tender child. Time heals slower than a plastic bag degrades. My body shrinks like a cloth washed in the wrong temperature. Still I pray for my father so much my palms are warm enough to burn my face.
Ex/listence is a difficult song, a chorus of razor blades, try learning the lyrics without becoming a carving of wounds.
Blessed are the mothers of a dead child
They leave the clothes untouched and locked away as if begging the dead child to outgrow the denial.
Each year goes past and the dead do not age, the clouds are fragments
of icing from their untouched birthday cakes.
A rope was found clinging to his neck.
We think it was a halo failed by gravity.
Should we bury him with the rope around his neck
and hope it turns into a halo?
I was born crying
at the first sight of the world, begging my mother to push me back in, because the darkness of the womb is holier than all the light in the world.
The chances of living untainted are as small as the chances of skin surviving direct contact with the sun.
Initially thought not relatable to me - all God and Alzheimer’s and grief
But clever experimental multiple ways of poetry meant it didn’t get boring
Found myself reading the whole thing in one sitting as it became more relatable
Quotes!
God's will is a butcher's knife that cuts into one flesh to feed another a plate of life lessons.
His children crawl back into his wife's womb.
My grandmother takes in his voice
and her skin splits open like an overstuffed suitcase.
My God, it must hurt for someone you love to remember a song in clearer detail than your face.
I hid in my room for days after the mirror called me an intruderI am sure someone will miss me when my age becomes a stagnant number.
If not, I'll wave from heaven,
even if the world dismisses it as a violent wind.
*Insomnia is a cheap drug*
You were intrigued by how lack of sleep impairs the brain's ability to learn and retain information, so you began to use this as a method of forgetting yourself.
Slowly, the neocortex sheds long-term memories; you have no vivid images of days you hated yourself, days your umbilical cord grew back and tried to strangle you.
I am here because I am looking for other ways to solve my crisis aside from selling my body to the bottom of an ocean.
Childhood trauma affects
mental and physical health in adulthood.
The past hangs over me like clothes on a washing line.
Look at me.
Look at me, I am a droplet of knives.
Look at me, I am a jellyfish stinging itself.
Look at me, shame is the only asset I have in stock.
Sometimes it's impossible to tie your hollowness to tangible things.
*sight test*
Today I woke up surprised I was still alive, last thing I remember was my body swinging from a ceiling of inadequacies.
In my head I have died in so many ways I must be a god the way I keep resurrecting into prettier caskets.
Of all triggers, my reflection is the most consistent.
I am reminded I should be over this by now.
My father is a brown balloon,
but unlike the ones at parties
I do not run to catch him
when he floats from me.
behind closed doors.
I am still a tender child. Time heals slower than a plastic bag degrades. My body shrinks like a cloth washed in the wrong temperature. Still I pray for my father so much my palms are warm enough to burn my face.
Ex/listence is a difficult song, a chorus of razor blades, try learning the lyrics without becoming a carving of wounds.
Blessed are the mothers of a dead child
They leave the clothes untouched and locked away as if begging the dead child to outgrow the denial.
Each year goes past and the dead do not age, the clouds are fragments
of icing from their untouched birthday cakes.
A rope was found clinging to his neck.
We think it was a halo failed by gravity.
Should we bury him with the rope around his neck
and hope it turns into a halo?
I was born crying
at the first sight of the world, begging my mother to push me back in, because the darkness of the womb is holier than all the light in the world.
The chances of living untainted are as small as the chances of skin surviving direct contact with the sun.
May 13, 2020
This is a staggering collection of poems from British-Nigerian poet, Theresa Lola. They show
a power, a profundity, and a depth of insight into the human spirit way beyond her years. In
an array of undaunted, resolute recollections and documentations of the disintegration of, first
the mind, then the body, Lola manages to lead us through her grandfather’s dissolution with
grace, bravery and humility.
The collection begins with the weighty, harsh reality of life: "As my new-born brother was
crowned with a name / my grandfather’s brain began to forget his." Lola’s ability to confront
the realities befalling her and her family with slick, contemporary expression ("your
grandfather’s memory folder erases") is worthy of praise. It is never easy to communicate
grief and loss with the element of urbanity and chic that Lola does; "you cope with the trauma
of seeing him like this / by cutting/ /and pasting / the old version of himself over his body."
It is also difficult to express despair and futility without sounding like a character from a
badly written soap. Poetically Lola has reached deeper into her own abyss than just feeling;
she is succinct but hard hitting with her deeply penetrating analysis of grief: "When your lungs
feel like two dangling pages / of a torn-open Bible", and yet doesn’t shy away from the
innate, internal human injustices that drag us down to depths of physical, as well as emotional
pain: "I yawn rage in the basement of my mouth".
It’s not all trauma. There is sense to be made of these personal tragedies, and hope to be
gained in survival, faith, and rebirth. There is a reaction, and an aversion to grief: "If grief fits
too tight it will suck movement out of you / make you as still as the dead you are mourning."
She isn’t wallowing in her grief. She wants to distance herself from it. Believe in faith and its
power to heal: "Still I pray for my father so much my / palms are warm enough to burn my
face." I had to read these lines over and over; a great poet makes you do that. Grabs you by the
scruff of the neck and screams “read it again!” There is often something else to see each time.
Lola has that power with her words, her vision between the lines, her style and method.
Lola says of her grandfather: "my grandfather’s heart / was the last organ to give up", which is
uplifting since it seems that heart found its way into Theresa Lola’s pen, and onto the pages
of this very valuable and commendable first collection, 'In Search Of Equilibrium.'
Yet another masterful collection from Nine Arches Press, and surely, in Theresa Lola, a powerful
and influential voice in the future of British and International poetry.
a power, a profundity, and a depth of insight into the human spirit way beyond her years. In
an array of undaunted, resolute recollections and documentations of the disintegration of, first
the mind, then the body, Lola manages to lead us through her grandfather’s dissolution with
grace, bravery and humility.
The collection begins with the weighty, harsh reality of life: "As my new-born brother was
crowned with a name / my grandfather’s brain began to forget his." Lola’s ability to confront
the realities befalling her and her family with slick, contemporary expression ("your
grandfather’s memory folder erases") is worthy of praise. It is never easy to communicate
grief and loss with the element of urbanity and chic that Lola does; "you cope with the trauma
of seeing him like this / by cutting/ /and pasting / the old version of himself over his body."
It is also difficult to express despair and futility without sounding like a character from a
badly written soap. Poetically Lola has reached deeper into her own abyss than just feeling;
she is succinct but hard hitting with her deeply penetrating analysis of grief: "When your lungs
feel like two dangling pages / of a torn-open Bible", and yet doesn’t shy away from the
innate, internal human injustices that drag us down to depths of physical, as well as emotional
pain: "I yawn rage in the basement of my mouth".
It’s not all trauma. There is sense to be made of these personal tragedies, and hope to be
gained in survival, faith, and rebirth. There is a reaction, and an aversion to grief: "If grief fits
too tight it will suck movement out of you / make you as still as the dead you are mourning."
She isn’t wallowing in her grief. She wants to distance herself from it. Believe in faith and its
power to heal: "Still I pray for my father so much my / palms are warm enough to burn my
face." I had to read these lines over and over; a great poet makes you do that. Grabs you by the
scruff of the neck and screams “read it again!” There is often something else to see each time.
Lola has that power with her words, her vision between the lines, her style and method.
Lola says of her grandfather: "my grandfather’s heart / was the last organ to give up", which is
uplifting since it seems that heart found its way into Theresa Lola’s pen, and onto the pages
of this very valuable and commendable first collection, 'In Search Of Equilibrium.'
Yet another masterful collection from Nine Arches Press, and surely, in Theresa Lola, a powerful
and influential voice in the future of British and International poetry.
February 8, 2024
Buku ini benar-benar emosional dalam arti harfiah. Setelah membaca seperti menangis tak henti-henti di hadapan makam basah dari orang yang kamu sayangi. Kematian yang diceritakan dalam tiga babak dan setiap babaknya hatimu hancur. Aku suka sekali cara Theresa menulis, seakan tudak akan ada yang membaca tulisannya begitu lepas. Dia juga mencoba beberapa gaya menulis puisi seperti membayangkan puisi sebagai resep obat dan silogisme. Dalam titik ini aku merasa Theresa samgat jenius sebab selama ini dianggap bahwa perasaan itu tidak logis tapi Theresa mematahkan itu. Justru perasaan itu sangat logis dan masuk akal.
Puisinya kurang banyak dan lumayan depresif, jadi harusnya ada triggered warning.
Buku ini aku beli second dari @pasaribuku Harganya good deals banget mengingat sekarang sangat sedikit yang mau impor buku puisi 🤣 Btw aku sudah lama pengen baca buku ini karena aku tahu Lola itu seusia denganku tapi banyak orang orang yang aku respect ternyata mengagumi Lola.
#TheresaLola #InSearchOfEquilibrium #WhatSekarReads2024 #WhatSekarReads
Puisinya kurang banyak dan lumayan depresif, jadi harusnya ada triggered warning.
Buku ini aku beli second dari @pasaribuku Harganya good deals banget mengingat sekarang sangat sedikit yang mau impor buku puisi 🤣 Btw aku sudah lama pengen baca buku ini karena aku tahu Lola itu seusia denganku tapi banyak orang orang yang aku respect ternyata mengagumi Lola.
#TheresaLola #InSearchOfEquilibrium #WhatSekarReads2024 #WhatSekarReads
June 26, 2019
In Search of Equilibrium is the debut collection of poems by Theresa Lola. The poems focus of the death of Theresa's grandfather who was a very important figure in her life. Although the majority of poems in this collection are about death and coming to terms with the slow deterioration of a loved one these do not feel like a depressing set of poems. The poems are well crafted and contain some great lines that really jump out from the page. I found that this was a quality collection rather than there just being one or two brilliant poems. Theresa is obviously very talented and this shows in her work. I thoroughly enjoyed this collection and found it inspiring and very enjoyable.
April 8, 2019
This raw, immensely powerful first collection proceeds from the poet’s grandfather’s death after a battle with Alzheimer’s. Lola uses prayer, incantation and Wikipedia entries to shape a poetry of grief and remembrance. I recommend it unreservedly.
June 15, 2019
Moving but not sentimental collection by Teresa Lola about loss and grief. Lola looks unflinchingly at how we deal with diagnosis and the body breaking down and how the loss begins before death occurs. Outstanding and fresh.
July 8, 2020
A masterclass in contemporary poetry. At times I struggled with the order of the poems in the book - some poems after another felt a touch repetitive, but the imagery and language of each poem detailing grief had me gasping.
February 7, 2024
this book used so many interesting styles and forms to express the same grief that continues to plague us. the record of Alzheimer’s and it’s effect on her grandfather and family was heart rending. worth many reads
September 25, 2020
good and dramatic display of words. thoughtfully written
January 8, 2022
Delicious
November 12, 2024
“Time heals slower than a plastic bag degrades.”
Poetry drenched in love, ache, grief, respite, grace, blood, tears, forgiveness, and redemption, prayers and songs.
Truly powerful work. Some very moving lines.
Poetry drenched in love, ache, grief, respite, grace, blood, tears, forgiveness, and redemption, prayers and songs.
Truly powerful work. Some very moving lines.
January 12, 2025
Absolutely stunning collection. Love its use of form and the many ways it tackles the subject of grief.
A few favourites: Alzheimer's Algorithm, Sing with Me and Do Not Die of Thirst, wikiHow to Find Things you Have Lost, Removed from the Edge, We Rebuke This Bad Death.
A few favourites: Alzheimer's Algorithm, Sing with Me and Do Not Die of Thirst, wikiHow to Find Things you Have Lost, Removed from the Edge, We Rebuke This Bad Death.
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews