Although grief is at the forefront of these poems, The Wild Delight of Wild Things is a simple love letter to Turner's late wife, poet Ilyse Kusnetz (1966-2016).
The poems are also a love letter to our planet during the ongoing sixth mass extinction. Intertwining this immense grief, Turner explores the hybrid borderlands of genre, and the meditations on love and loss blur the boundaries between poetry and lyric prose. In Italian, the word "stanza" is rooted in the word "room."
And so, stanza by stanza, room by room, page by page, we draft ourselves forward into the imagination, our arms filled with all that we can carry from the days gone by. This is the art of survival. Profound grief teaches us how to dwell in the house of memory―that vibrant temporal landscape of the past―where we might live with the dead we love once more.
An outstanding book from start to finish. Don't let the title fool you: this is not the feel-good book such a title suggests. Much of the book is devastating in its exploration of the death of Turner's beloved from cancer and the impending death of the planet. But goodness, it is moving in the most elemental ways. Nearly every poem I've starred or double-starred, and I've marked so many important passages that no one would want to borrow my book. And yes, the "wild delight of wild things" does come through in poems about octopi, wood frogs, whales, and even ants, as well as so many other natural phenomena. An added bonus for me: a poem about Albuquerque's enormous toxic spill into our water aquifer, something I did not know about (but there are many things to be learned about caves, black holes, nuclear tests, etc. throughout this wide-ranging collection). I cannot recommend this book enough!
One has to move slowly through these exquisite, profound poems, a tribute from one poet to another -- who happens to be his late wife. In the midst of despair, Turner shifts his gaze outward -- to the stars, oceans, and other creatures, analyzing geology, astronomy, and entropy. A sobering collection filled with reverence, beauty, and pain, this book charts a narrow path through the darkness.
the poet Brian Turner pulled off a publishing hat trick this year, releasing three (THREE!) books over the course of a couple of months, each of them operating at the highest levels of craft--there's not a spare or misplaced word on any page of "The Wild Delight of Wild Things," The Dead Peasant's Handbook" or "The Goodbye World Poem" (all from Alice James Books with those fantastic cover designs). While the three books share a common theme--reflecting on the death of Turner's wife, fellow poet Ilyse Kusnetz, from cancer in 2016--each can be read separately.
These books are for anyone missing the dead. These books are for those who are grieving the slow loss of our natural world. These books are for readers who love to lick, nibble, chew, and swallow words that go down like savory morsels. These books are for those trying to find their place in the world.
Through the alchemy of his words, Brian Turner has turned the deeply personal (the loss of his one true love) into the widely universal (how to find hope even when we're hollow).
Even in the closing pages of "The Wild Delight of Wild Things," in the "throwaway" acknowledgements section, Turner is still blazing away with his art; he thanks friends and collaborators in the most beautiful of terms, and ends with this sweet image of carrying around his late wife's ashes: "Ilyse, a small amount of ash hangs in a silver locket around my neck. You listen to my heartbeat through the wall of my chest, hear each breath resonating in the bones of my sternum, feel the heat of blood radiating from my skin. Every word I speak rises through you before finding its way into the world."
We are all so fortunate that Brian Turner breathed these poems into life.
In these luminous, effusive poems, grief is a seismic entity. Its howl reverberates through oceans to the tops of high clouds and takes the amorphous shape of wind and fire and stars. It’s a current. After all, it’s been said that grief comes in waves. In this collection, however, grief can also curl inside redwoods, bands of ice, and the skin of an orange left on a bedside table. Grief renders an exquisitely sensitive witness in Brian Turner, who is himself unearthing and “remembering how to fall in love again with the world...”
Grounded in scientific observation, these poems are not morose; they are brilliantly infused with light, wonder, and gratitude. Perhaps the dominion that most effectively houses grief is the ocean where we find ourselves suspended in stasis between ascending jellyfish and tumbling whales, looking up to see “the ocean is a silver film of moonlight stilling itself.” There is more than bereavement rippling through these astonishing poems; there is healing.
I love poetry and I love science, so this book speaks my language. It's an incredible meditation on how to define "loss" when someone you love isn't physically around anymore, with beautiful leaps into the ocean, forest, ant colonies, the Milky Way that all snap back beautifully to two people and the moments they make and how those moments continue.
The lines ending "Mount Faraway" stick with me so much after reading this:
"And this is what I didn't expect. That the world would help me to survive after. That it would do so by revealing you within its myriad forms.
By feather and leaf and tangle of fur. Through water and air and fire and stone. That I might find a way to continue falling in love with you, and that
I might do so by remembering how to fall in love with the world itself."
Brian Turner poses this question in the poem “The Jurassic Coast” in his book The Wild Delight of Wild Things: How do we mourn such loss? Turner is like a scout who goes ahead and reports back about the reckoning we’ll face when we inevitably lose a loved one. He pays close attention to the interconnected web that we live in with our families and the natural world. I loved the poem “Heroes” and especially liked the end of “The Salton Sea” where he briefly gives us a glimpse into the anger that’s combined with grief. Turner’s book reminds me to be a steward of the world and the people in it. I sometimes wonder what I would do if I lost my wife. I would want to relive every second I had with her. This book reminds me to pay attention to the present. And even after loss, Turner offers a ray of hope with the poem “Mount Faraway.” You’ll have to get a copy to find out what he wrote.
Delightful read! Brian's execution of blending a scientific understanding and ecopoetry style was done beautifully. Typically I come across hard science descriptions in wordy academic papers with long boring elaborations of the subject. But, what he does is crack open the possibility for me to even scath an understanding of those subjects by decorating his poetry with the broken pieces of a discipline into very readable, and enjoyable lines and stanzas.
A magnificent love song and tribute to Turner's wife. But much more than that. "The Wild Delight of Wild Things" contains some astonishing poems filled with precision, science, love, feeling, imaginative leaps, and amazing imagery folding softly into itself and unfolding to the throne of God and beyond. This is the reason I read poetry!
I had previously considered Turner a 'war poet' but with this volume he extends his range far beyond any single label.
I loved this book! I love how Brian is in conversation with his wife, Illyse who had passed away, and that some of his poems are dark while others are uplifting. I think it's cool how it is very scientific and educational, but also has deep meaning in every poem. Some of my favorite poems were Seagulls in Californa, Cygnus the Swan, and Ashes, Ashes.
I liked this book because of all the great poems that are written. I also liked how it was sectioned into parts of the book and it made me want to keep reading! My favorite poem from this book would have to be "Clouds"(pg. 58). This poem sounds very sweet and overall, it is very beautiful. It had so much description and I like that it just continues in the writing.
I honestly don't read a lot of poetry, but this book might have just changed that. On a trip out to SF Rich randomly walked into a bookstore, saw the cover and title, which seemed to fit with our current thoughts of how we want to move through the world, so he picked it up for me. I actually get a little sad thinking about the 'what if' I never knew this book existed.
This is one of the most sad and beautiful books I've ever read. It's especially for those who have lost a loved one, especially a partner, and who love science. I'm neither of those, but I still loved it a great deal. It took me a long time to read because it was just so heartbreaking, but oh so beautiful too.
This is definitely an excellent book and a great read. Each poem had a lot of emotion and love poured into them and you could really feel it when reading. I would definitely recommend this book to anyone.
I have never been so taken away by such incredible writing. So many beautiful, but heart-wrenching metaphors. I'll be re-reading and recommending this book. I'm look forward to reading the rest of the series.
I enjoyed this literary piece from Brian Turner. The poems are well-written and thought-out and create beautiful images of love, death, and nature. It's a great reader experience and I hope I can read more from this author.
I can only echo what so many others here have already said except to add that this moving and accomplished collection would certainly make the cut for my imaginary writing course, "The Art of Science Writing".