“Rekdal’s fourth collection is relentlessly heartbreaking and intense, but also full of the pleasures of closely observed detail and imagination given free rein.”
—Publishers Weekly

“Paisley Rekdal’s quiet virtuosity with rhyme and cadence, her syntactic fidelity to thought and sensation, her analytical intelligence that keeps homing in and in, her ambitious sentences and larger formal structures that try to embody with absolute accuracy the difference between what we ought to feel and what we really do feel—all these make her unique in her generation: no one sounds like she does, and her concern about the ‘post’ in postconfessional is as much a sign of her earnest desire to honor every aspect of her art, as it is an anxiety that spurs her restless investigations of family, selfhood, racial identity, and erotic life.”
—Tom Sleigh

“There’s an old notion that the eye emits light and this light seizes the objects we see. I thought of this while reading Paisley Rekdal’s wonderful new book. She has a meditative bent—itself a kind of light sent out to the world—and as with most poets who dwell, who mull over, her poems convey a deep sense of compassion and joy, another kind of light. ‘Can I have more / of this, would it be possible / for every day to be a greater awakening,’ she asks in one poem, a question this book beautifully and affirmatively answers.”
—Bob Hicok