Twice Shy by Luiza Flynn-Goodlett reflects the many faces of violence-- in our experiences, our relationships, and our society-- but it then asks us to turn toward the light, to heal the fractured self. This collection is a roadmap to a place of radical tenderness.
----- Twice Shy looks violence in the face-- in all its faces-- and recognizes how it victimizes (the "skin he unzipped you from"), but more importantly recognizes how we "all the time, carry survival." The voices of this collection become memory, become compassion, but ultimately become animal-- one whose role is to survive. It begs the question: Is radical tenderness just as much an embraceable nature of ourselves as our brutality? Radical tenderness is indeed the kind of survival that Flynn-Goodlett champions, "even when taken between teeth." Twice Shy understands the difficulty in this vulnerability, but also doesn't shy away from its necessity ("the unfinished . . . both burden and ballast"). This is a writer to join hands with, because she reaches out honestly, generously. Thank goodness for Luiza Flynn-Goodlett. -- Miah Jeffra
If the heartbroken poems in Twice Shy have an edge to them, it's because they've been ' once bitten.' Here are fresh songs of experience-- compressed, lyrical narratives for our savage world to reflect on. As the violence around us becomes all-consuming to the point of commonplace, the poet wonders, " Can / you forgive failures, operatic // at this distance" ? Failure or not, as readers we " must sit, witness it" -- not because something horrific happened once, but because what's happened still is happening now and will forever be happening to all of us. This is a book of conscience-forming, full of sharp-toothed love and quick-witted fury; not for the faint of heart. You've been warned . . . -- Frederick Speers
The powerful, economic poems in Twice Shy all pack a punch. Flynn-Goodlet infuses them with violence-- casual violence, systemic violence, and incidental violence-- which is then draped in a fine filigree of Queen Ann's lace. These combine erudition with chattiness, classicism with neologism. In one line spaghettifies is placed next to dotage, indicating an inventiveness alongside a readerliness. The violence of the rural South are rendered in tight and effective lines, allowing the beauty of their language to trump the brutality of their reality. " The taste of rope" is the killer phrase of Twice Shy, but the enduring image is of Abraham Lincoln scowling on a penny. This is a perfect chapbook, a thematically linked group of poems all working extremely hard and effectively to earn their place on the page. -- Natasha Dennerstein