Autumn House Press, 2018, 88 pages.
Reviewed by Joshua Jones
What a book does often matters more than what it means, and Melissa Cundieff’s debut book of poems, Darling Nova does more important work than most. The collection, which won the 2017 Autumn House Poetry Prize, might best be described as a series of thought experiments in grief. These experiments work through a life’s struggle of coping with death in all its forms, from the visceral to the abstract. In doing so, Cundieff confronts traumas that often get submerged in literary ornamentation and writes a book designed to matter and to move.
I call it a series of thought experiments not because Cundieff’s poems feel detached or cerebral but because each one methodically places itself in a slightly different position relative to death. The very first poem situates her “driving away from a childhood / friend’s funeral,” and the final poem assumes a posture of contentment and contemplation of death in the abstract— “Ambulances passing me by— / the knowledge that death is unknowable. / Private until it isn’t.” But between these two she systematically interrogates the various textures of loss—the death of an unborn child, the suicide of a friend, a father’s stroke, and more public tragedies. In “West” she even imagines herself dead on a road trip: “I died a year ago, and it’s only my afterimage / positioned in the passenger seat.” While the book follows no explicit narrative or plot and has no sections, it moves by association through various types of loss; this means that she often groups together several poems about a particular death or a particular way of dying. Never, though, does the book feel static or trapped in one mode for very long.