“The poems, plainspoken distillations of origins and loss, explore histories, teasing at what we know without knowing, and know without remembering we know. A book of quiet, watchful radiance.”― The Boston Globe
“Must-read poetry.”― The Millions
New from a poet whose astonishing images, emotional honesty, and storytelling power hold a singular clarity of vision. “ American Wake navigates loss with such unparalleled sensitivity and inventiveness that language becomes its own jubilant force of survival.”―Major Jackson
An “American wake” is what the Irish call a farewell to those emigrating to the United States. A New England poet equally at home in Ireland, Kerrin McCadden explores family, death and grief, apologies, and all manner of departures. In the poem “In the Harbor,” McCadden
When we are out to sea, we look back to see faces ringing the shore like a fence, those we love in up to their hips in waves, waving goodbye like mad.
Included in American Wake are the poems, “My Broken Family,” “Weeks After My Brother Overdoses,” “One Way to Apologize to a Daughter for Careless Words,” “Portrait of the Family as a Definition,” and “My Mother Talks to Her Son about Her Heart.”
This collection by a writer of extraordinary gifts will appeal to readers who believe in the potential of carefully hewn words to unveil our world and our deepest feelings to ourselves. As the acclaimed memoirist Nick Flynn ( Another Bullshit Night in Suck City ) puts “Kerrin McCadden transforms tragedy into myth.”
An assured and sometimes astonishing collection of accessible and heartfelt poems, American Wake is an expansion of the idea of the Irish wake. The all-night story telling, the drink, the presence of generations past and those to come, they're all here. Because it is a wake, this book is clear about who has died and why he is grieved. But these are not strictly grief poems, or most aren't anyway. They are about seeking to understand, to define, to name the specific pain, and when it is possible, the specific balm for that pain. The poems are accessible, and lend themselves wonderfully to rereading (in fact this was one of those books where I finished and immediately read it again). There is courage in the language, and some experimenting (though the poems all remain accessible and don't become puzzles). And then, unexpectedly, the lines begin to lean toward a deep and old idea: home. What is home, does it exist, and how can we find it? The longing in those later poems give the whole book a sweet melancholy resonance, a larger context in family and in time. My favorite poem is Planetarium -- not because it is the richest or most complex, but because it concludes with a simple but perfect expression of love. What more should a poem seek to accomplish?
Reading this wise, heart-wrenching book, I couldn't help thinking of the opening to Jack Gilbert's "Michiko Dead": "He manages like someone carrying a box/that is too heavy," and the line break that is like a cliff between Gilbert's line about managing and the line about the weight being too much. Everywhere in Kerrin McCadden's new collection her skill and control is evident, and yet so is the heaviness and cumbersome nature of grief. She never sacrifices one for the other, but holds them in sublime tension. I also admire the way McCadden evokes parental grief as well as sibling grief. Poems like "My Mother Talks to Her Son about Her Heart" and "My Brother Wailing" widen the conversation about loss, and what a lifetime really is.
I dog-earred so many of these gorgeous, sad poems about grief, masculinity, and her brother's death from overdose. "Reverse Overdose" is a heartbreaker. There is a brilliant choose your own adventure poem. Here's the beginning of one beauty:
In Event of Moon Disaster from Nixon's alternative speech in case of a failed moon landing, 1969 The mother should telephone the constellations to find her son. This is a burial at moon sea. Others-to-be will follow into the unknown, and whoever looks up at the moon prior to prayer will remain foremost in a state of under-mending. There is no recovery for their hope. ...
I know this will read as cliche, but this book is heart-rending and lush.
For those who read her chapbook “Keep This to Yourself,” this book will read like a deeper dive into the heart of a family split between two continents and across a genetic divide.