Lupine

<p><strong>An unflinching new collection from poet Jenny Irish in which cultural violence against women is explored through various personae.</strong></p><p><br></p><p>At the heart of all violence is fear: <em>Lupine</em> is a gathering of feminist prose poetry engaging themes of ecology animality and the human unknown. A series of interconnected dramatic monologues the poems inhabit the personae of figures traditionally deemed Monstrous giving them voice to confront and reclaim the violent mythologies that have so often been imposed upon them. As these unmuzzled monsters speak the collection collapses the boundaries between the self and the subjugated other ultimately upending the discourse of monstrosity itself. By exposing how women are villainized and sacrificed in response to cultural fear <em>Lupine</em> offers a corrective to social narratives in which notions of the bestial and notions of the feminine are intimately entwined.</p><p><br></p><p>A fang concealed inside a flower <em>Lupine</em> has a mythological sense of ecopoetics one in which nature is often vindicated in all its mossy sinewy animal luster for the violence we as humans have enacted upon it. Jenny Irish has an unflinching eye interrogating 'spectacle and specimen' wielding a mirror against cruel and patriarchal abuses of power. This language of survival drips with 'darkness as she welcomes herself in' to reconsider what has traditionally been called wicked or monstrous or other. Challenging our preconceived notions of narrative Irish lets wildness pulse against the edges of her sentences 'obscene up close' but 'all a-light'-the reader is left dazzled transformed. </p><p>-Jenny Molberg author of <em>Refusal</em></p><p><br></p><p><em>Lupine</em> is a rare feat of a chapbook in which the poet Jenny Irish dawns the masks of so many monsters to tell us vividly how our culture fails women. From shadows we make stories our speaker reminds us and Irish shows us how the object casting the shadow is often the haphazard negligence we regard each other with. This book is a bestiary of deep lyric knowing from the first poem to the closing immaculate question that makes <em>Lupine</em>'s final line what we're given is a chorus of beasts we can't help but think look like us. </p><p>-C.T. Salazar author of <em>Headless John the Baptist Hitchhiking</em></p><p><br></p><p>Just like the botanical ferocity that accompanies its title <em>Lupine</em> by Jenny Irish cracks the fangs from the aggressor reveling in a primitive magic where women confront and disrupt their default historical fates. A delightfully dark examination of fear and interrogation of the cautionary tale Irish's collection offers advice that resonates from deep past into contemporary life. For example in Harpy we are told 'Girl-child if you must hate yourself let it be for lack of talent rather than the body your soul inherited' while in 'Witch' we hear 'A good girl keeps her mouth shut and a bad girl gets the sound smacked out and a smart girl knows she will be punished either way.' Resplendent with magnificent animals abundant flora and unforgettable voices <em>Lupine</em> is a showcase of the dramatic monologue at its wicked best. </p><p>-Mary Biddinger author of <em>Department of Elegy</em></p><p><br></p><p><br></p>