Our Andromeda

Starred review from June 25, 2012
This third collection from Shaughnessy (Human Dark with Sugar) is a fierce, angry, and at times wrathful book, full of anguished suffering in media res. The profound difficulties of dealing with a disabled child are not so much reflected upon by a parent as lived and registered in a poet’s language. Indeed, the torment strains against the conventions of line and stanza, brusquely resisting music and pretensions to sincerity (“I’m such a fraud/ I can’t even convince you/ of my fraudulence”). In her work, Shaughnessy has often punished herself for selfishness and even ambition, but here, life has dealt her a brutal hand, and in this ultimately brave record the poet emerges with a surprising gift. Like war poetry, this volume is about survival. Part 1, Liquid Flesh, works familiar Shaughnessy terrain—tough lyrics about self. Double Life, part 2, finds the poet in a relative and nearly banal peacetime, venting at such things as Fox News and duplicity in relationships; a sequence called Arcana follows, poems based on the Tarot (“The Hanged Man,” “The Fool,” etc.), in which the poet barely controls an anger that is beginning to rage; part 4, Family Trip, distracts with memories of the bitter struggles for identity within family (“I wish I had more sisters,/ enough to fight with…”); all of which culminates in the explosive title sequence, Our Andromeda, which settles scores, lays waste to early selves—not to mention medical practitioners and the birthing mother herself—and, in the long closing poem, by turns harrowing, mean, and fatalistic—is, suddenly, transformative. In these last pages, against all expectations, the poet has conjured an alternate galaxy in which doctors are competent, insurance companies humane, God exists (“a God for me after all”), and the boy Cal has an “even fight”—and a mother’s love. Another Brooklyn poet, Marianne Moore, defined poetry as “imaginary gardens, with real toads in them.” In Our Andromeda, Shaughnessy has imagined a universe, and in it, real love moves, quick with life.

July 1, 2012

Until recently, Shaughnessy seemed to appear every few years and sing something really wonderful, only to vanish without warning. Following the 1999 release of her critically acclaimed Interior with Sudden Joy, Shaughnessy didn't release a second volume until 2008 (Human Dark with Sugar, a James Laughlin Award winner). The wait for a third volume was blessedly shorter. This newest collection focuses largely upon the complications that accompanied the birth of her son, to whom this book is dedicated. The narrator's tone is decidedly conversational as she addresses an older version of her son, giving the book a message-in-a-bottle quality. While complex, this book is at times a bit uneven. But just as you're about to write her off, Shaughnessy feeds you a poem that redeems the shortcomings of the others, and the strong title piece, which closes the book, is the poem Shaughnessy should someday read to her son. VERDICT This book will appeal to readers interested in themes of trauma and childbirth and would be a worthwhile addition to most library collections.--Chris Pusateri, Jefferson Cty. P.L., Lakewood, CO

Copyright 2012 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

September 1, 2012
In a stormy third collection, Shaughnessy attempts to escape the anguish of earth-shattering pain by imagining life in the galaxy of Andromeda. As she faces impenetrable questions ( What if all possible / pain was only the grief of truth? ), she scrambles to comprehend a dark and callous world. In the self-punishing Liquid Flesh, the poet struggles with guilt over her feelings about a lost self as the distinguishing line blurs between mother and baby ( I make more and more of myself / in order to make more and more of the baby ). An imaginary getaway occurs in It Never Happened as the pristine glass of reality is shattered to make way for a magical night for two lovers. Shaughnessy's collection burns like hunger until it explodes in a fiery burst and rains down grief as she imagines a parallel universe equipped with capable doctors, orderly hospitals, and a second chance for a baby boy. Shaughnessy crafts an artificially perfect dimension amid a heartbreaking reality in these deeply resonant and feverishly unsettling poems.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2012, American Library Association.)