"Anguished and unblinking . . . Accomplished poetry that will move those who have sorrowed—that is, everyone." — Library Journal
"The thin knife that severed your tumor," writes Brooke Matson in these poems, "it cleaves me still." What to do when a world is split—terribly, wholly—by grief? When the loss of the beloved undermines the most stable foundations, the most sacred spaces, of that world? What else but to interrogate the very fundamental principles themselves, all the knowns previously relied on: light, religion, physical matter, time?
Often borrowing voices and perspectives from its scientific subjects, In Accelerated Silence investigates the multidimensional nature of grief and its blurring of boundaries—between what is present and what is absent, between what is real and imagined, between the promises of science and the mysteries of human knowing, and between the pain that never ends and the world that refuses to. The grieving and the seeking go on, Matson suggests, but there comes a day when we emerge, "now strong enough / to venture out of doors, thin // and swathed in a robe," only to find it has continued "full and flourishing and larger than before."
Sensual and devastating, In Accelerated Silence—selected by Mark Doty as winner of the Jake Adam York Prize—creates an unforgettable portrait of loss full of urgency and heartache and philosophical daring.
"Blends chemistry, astrophysics, light, and time with grief, mystery, resilience, and love into some truly gorgeous poems that you don't have to be a scientist (or a poetry nerd) to love." — Electric Literature
Industry Reviews
"Using the idioms of biology, chemistry, physics, and astrophysics, Brooke Matson composes lyrics of grief and beauty where death is the 'nameless blade / that strips us into wavelengths.' Line after line, we feel the poet's rage and power: 'If I could have plucked you / like a mussel from your shell, / I would have swallowed you whole.' But grief is never far from wonder here-and a profound, near-erotic reverence for the sensual, living world, where 'there [are] spaces inside us / that ache toward light.' For anyone who as ever mourned deeply and loved fiercely, this is your book." -Nicky Beer
