If The Condition Of Grief Is Nearly

My Theory Is This: Women Falter When They're Called On To Be Highly Self-conscious About Their Talents. Not When They're Called On To Enact Them.

But When My Mother Died, I Found That I Did Not Believe That She Was Gone.

The People We Most Love Do Become A Physical Part Of Us, Ingrained In Our Synapses, In The Pathways Where Memories Are Created.

With Ferocity And Extraordinary Craft, Lizzie Harris Has Made A Book Of Poems That Resonates Far Beyond The Personal Stories It Tells. Stop Wanting Reveals, In Every Lyric, Its Author's Profound Metaphorical Gifts. In Its Ironies And Intensities, It Brings To Mind A Writer Like The Young Sylvia Plath, Though What Is Startling About Harris' S Work Is The Way It Combines Those Gifts With A Muted, Deft Self-awareness. Most Of All, These Are Wonderfully Shaped, Powerful, And Surprising Poems-a Startling Debut.

While I Did A Lot Of Research, I Ended Up Feeling That The Best Way To Write About Grief Was To Describe It From The Inside Out - The Show The Strange Intensities That Come Along With It, The Peculiar Thoughts, The Longing For That Past - All The Strange Moments Of Thinking You Glimpse The Dead Person On The Street, Or In Your Dreams.