Praise for A History of Half-BirdsA History of Half-Birds, an inventive and impressively wide-ranging collection, has me considering and reconsidering the connections between seemingly disparate things: between poetry and science, both fueled by curiosity, imagination, and possibility; between history and myth, precision and ambiguity, the known and the unknown. In the Anthropocene, we may be tempted to ask what poetry can do for us when what we need are tools for survival. I'd argue that these poems are just that-expertly crafted, satisfying to hold and behold, and sharp enough to dissect what needs dissecting. We're so lucky to have this book here and now.-Maggie Smith, author of Goldenrod
Steeped in Gulf Coast flora and fauna, Caroline Harper New's A History of Half-Birds is a gorgeous collection of poems that spins widdershins like a hurricane. This book embraces life's complicated dualities-the precarious gravity of Saturn's rings, nightmares that visit with every new love, the way an anglerfish attracts both its mate and prey with the same lure. Equally embracing facts and lyricism, New weaves stray opossums and beached whales into love poems, jellyfish and memory into a chandelier. Each poem is full of the world's intimate facts that suddenly become mirrors. They are tender and wise and illuminate their mysteries. It's a truly beautiful debut.-Traci Brimhall, author of Come the Slumberless to the Land of Nod
Like a 'flashlight / prying through the night swamps,' Caroline Harper New's poems delve into the dark and treacherous corners of ourselves to ask, 'What would any of us do / if freed?' Through conversations with doctors and paleontologists, she traces 'what's left of a body,' eroding the borders between human and non-human: inside a humpback whale she finds a sitting room, and it is unclear whether the floating lights of a Florida street are jellyfish or chandeliers. When 'the future prickles dark at your spine,' Caroline Harper New's A History of Half-Birds teaches us that our only hope is to return to the body, to open our 'shoulder / blades and dig.'-Maia Elsner, author of Overrun by Wild Boars
Praise for Caroline Harper New
I admire the vast distances crossed here-from the lake with its threatened herd to the differently threatened rings around Saturn, from the immediacy of the speaker's moment to Galileo's time to the future 100 million years from now. Intimacy can be lonely in a world so vast. No wonder the speaker wants something small, tangible, and nameable: 'To hold a face between my hands and call it golden.'-Carl Phillips, author of Then the War, on Elk Lake
'Notes on Devotion' operates almost like the clockwork or other mechanicals it mentions, different gears turning into each other-the idea of conditioning, that of love and the inescapability of loss, the nature of ritual, and what can (and can't) interrupt all of these things-clicking into place by sound and association. Or another mechanical analogy: it moves like a combination lock tumbling into place to release. The poem is intricate, uncanny, heartaching, and almost infinitely rereadable.-Rebecca Lindenberg, author of Love, an Index, on Notes on Devotion
'Interview with a Cervidologist' is a haunting poem. It spoke to me immediately in the darkness of its imagery and tone, which hints at something scary, something threatening, something unknown. The uncanny within us-of digestion, of things split and torn, hunted, and struck down. Violence. The violence of existing in a time when science, technology, and ideas all have the capacity to be both deadly and necessary, with humans at the wheel. 'Interview with a Cervidologist' imagines the roadside grit that it takes to be an urban, post-apocalyptic survivor, human or otherwise. And in that otherwise lies the poem's strength and its challenge to readers. What do we take for granted and why? What are the costs? I hope you will take the journey that this poem offers to accept uncertainty: to feel unsettled, to feel that you're not quite sure what's going on and never quite safe in your knowing.-Ki'en Debicki, on Interview with a Cervidologist
