Instructions for Traveling West
Poems
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- USD 9.99
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- USD 9.99
Descripción editorial
NATIONAL BESTSELLER • A vivid and inspiring poetry collection about what’s possible when we heed our instincts and honor our intuition, allowing ourselves to strike out for new territories of love, pleasure, and peace.
“This empathetic, honest, and intimate collection is chockful of poems reminding the reader to love earnestly, live freely, and pay attention.”—Kate Baer, #1 New York Times bestselling author of And Yet and What Kind of Woman
First, you must realize you’re homesick for all the lives you’re not living. Then, you must commit to the road and the rising loneliness. To the sincere thrill of coming apart.
So begins Joy Sullivan’s Instructions for Traveling West—a lush debut collection that examines what happens when we leave home and leap into the deep unknown. Mid-pandemic, Sullivan left the man she planned to marry, sold her house, quit her corporate job, and drove west. This dazzling collection tells that story as it illuminates the questions haunting us all: What possible futures lie on the horizon? What happens when we heed the call of furious reinvention?
A book for anyone flinging themselves into fresh starts, Instructions for Traveling West grapples with loss, loneliness and belonging. These poems teach us that naming our desire is profound alchemy. Each of us holds the power to set our own course forward.
Expansive and heart-opening—exquisite in their specificity, galvanizing in their scope—the poems in Instructions for Traveling West speak to the longing that lives within us all. They remind us that “joy is not a trick.”
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In this sunny debut collection, Sullivan traces a lifelong journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance with deceptive depth. The poems capture relatable small pleasures of life and a spirit of resilience, as she recalls facing such challenges as a bad marriage, and acts of bravery, such as her relocation to Portland, Ore., for a new start. The most troubling parts of life provide an opportunity to seize the day: "Look, America is awful and the earth is too hot and the truth of/ the matter is we're all up against the clock. It makes everything/ simple and urgent: there's only time to turn toward what you truly/ love." While romantic love can be a destructive force, there are always opportunities to live and love again: "Is there a way to love and not die? I'm not sure but the Alaskan/ wood frog freezes solid in winter only to blast back in spring." There are a fair number of pieces of less substance, but even many of these offer delightfully musical moments, as in "Remember What It Was Like to Be a Kid?" which begins, "All skinned knees,/ pavement and sick-sweet/ candy in the sticky backseat." Sullivan's unpretentious and blunt recounting of her experiences is a breath of fresh air.
