“Trace is a book of extraordinary poems...I have seldom been so moved and at such a depth as by Melanie Figg’s poems. The collection speaks, beyond the ego, from the place where the many voices come, and come together, as they do in the book. These poems carry the most sorrowful human truths and make them meaningful, a meaning that carries so much perception, feeling and love, the poems make truth its own consolation.... Thank you for these poems, that have real beauty and mean so much, especially right now in our benighted land.”
~Eleanor Wilner
TRACE was selected by as one of Kirkus Reviews'
Best Indie Books of 2020
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Only 100 books - and just 7 poetry books - made the list and Kirkus reviews thousands of book through their Indie program each year!
Trace also received a *Starred Review* from Kirkus - my colleague calls one of those reviews like the Michelin guide for writers. Out of thousands of inde books reviews, less than 1% receive a coveted starred review, like Trace. = |
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NOTE: Sadly, Trace's publisher was shut down by it's home university during COVID, and the distributor (which was how over 300 small presses got their books out to the world) closed in April 2024. If you'd like a copy, there are a few copies at Amazon, or you can purchase a copy through this website now.
Praise
- Trace received a prestigious Kirkus starred Review:
In this debut poetry collection, Figg kindles broken, dying embers into a roaring memorial for the voiceless.
“God save the devils, afflicted / and tumored. Speech stalled / in their cursed throats,” writes Figg in her deeply insightful collection’s first poem, “The Measure of Things.” From there, readers are led into a world of remnants; in one poem, for instance, the ashes of insane asylum residents are kept in long-forgotten canisters. Figg is adept at combining contrasting images; for example, in “Stitching a World,” the natural world intertwines with the highway, but it’s unexpectedly revealed how nature’s beauty—represented by kudzu blocking the sunlight—is deceptive. Throughout, the poems’ speakers share the pain of the forgotten and the damned. In “Interview with Sister,” a mentally ill woman interviews her sister, or perhaps she interviews herself; each line begins with the word “Sister,” as if the two are one. Figg gently scatters themes of loss, loneliness, and rejection throughout her poems, and these sharp shards sparkle. Take, for example, “Refuse,” a poem with an unsettling fireplace image in which “the birch / collapses into the fire’s belly.” That same poem also replaces birdsong with the shocking noise of birds hitting windows: “He mistakes / the sounds of their necks breaking / for visitors knocking.” There’s a fear of insignificance here, too; in “The Trace of Nothing,” a woman steps away from a wall and simply vanishes. Figg’s poetic timing is spot-on, and her lines, though often dark, remain powerfully musical. In “Once Was,” the sound of words melts into a bluesy moan of a woman “on the ground, the asphalt hot and soft / from the sun and slowly caving in to cover her edges and set her firm.” But there’s light here, as well, as in an image of goddesses who chew laurel leaves for prophecy, and Figg’s contemplative voice consistently casts a strong, soft glow. Hauntingly beautiful pieces that will leave deep impressions.
In this debut poetry collection, Figg kindles broken, dying embers into a roaring memorial for the voiceless.
“God save the devils, afflicted / and tumored. Speech stalled / in their cursed throats,” writes Figg in her deeply insightful collection’s first poem, “The Measure of Things.” From there, readers are led into a world of remnants; in one poem, for instance, the ashes of insane asylum residents are kept in long-forgotten canisters. Figg is adept at combining contrasting images; for example, in “Stitching a World,” the natural world intertwines with the highway, but it’s unexpectedly revealed how nature’s beauty—represented by kudzu blocking the sunlight—is deceptive. Throughout, the poems’ speakers share the pain of the forgotten and the damned. In “Interview with Sister,” a mentally ill woman interviews her sister, or perhaps she interviews herself; each line begins with the word “Sister,” as if the two are one. Figg gently scatters themes of loss, loneliness, and rejection throughout her poems, and these sharp shards sparkle. Take, for example, “Refuse,” a poem with an unsettling fireplace image in which “the birch / collapses into the fire’s belly.” That same poem also replaces birdsong with the shocking noise of birds hitting windows: “He mistakes / the sounds of their necks breaking / for visitors knocking.” There’s a fear of insignificance here, too; in “The Trace of Nothing,” a woman steps away from a wall and simply vanishes. Figg’s poetic timing is spot-on, and her lines, though often dark, remain powerfully musical. In “Once Was,” the sound of words melts into a bluesy moan of a woman “on the ground, the asphalt hot and soft / from the sun and slowly caving in to cover her edges and set her firm.” But there’s light here, as well, as in an image of goddesses who chew laurel leaves for prophecy, and Figg’s contemplative voice consistently casts a strong, soft glow. Hauntingly beautiful pieces that will leave deep impressions.
“The stunning poems in Melanie Figg’s debut full-length collection, Trace, exist in a sublime and terrifying world filled with visual art, human atrocity, and a complex family history, including a sister that serves as a mirror and window into the forces that formed them both. These poems are breathtaking in their braided complexity, unwillingness to settle for two-dimensional revelation, and ability to face the abyss and sing, symphonically, into it. The two long, sectioned poems, “Untitled” and “Leaving a Trace,” are the crowning jewels of this book and illuminate Figg’s tremendous gift on the page, “forming perfect sentences / of evidence and sorrow.” --Allison Benis White
“In language so lovely, rich, and full of voices that seem out of another world, this book of departures also opens many doors. Each door lets in a wild wind of longing, loss, gods, myths, war, and ragged humanity. We find ourselves in a museum maze with one entrance and one exit but that final exit, we do not want to take. It is art that speaks us through, speaks witness, speaks desire, tells us there are other worlds in an ending world. We can move beyond if we are only brave enough to endure the moment of departure.” --Heid E. Erdrich
“You can pray if you want to,” says Melanie Figg in her ravishing debut collection Trace, “but the wind/ makes its own halting pleas.” Trace is a collection of metamorphosis, of things becoming more than they are and the liminal spaces between transitions. Figg explores the stains of history both global and personal as well as the mythos of love to reveal the vestiges of light inherent in all. “Better to unmuscle and move through/ a field of wildflowers you cannot name,” she concludes. Trace is a revelation. --Quan Barry
“In language so lovely, rich, and full of voices that seem out of another world, this book of departures also opens many doors. Each door lets in a wild wind of longing, loss, gods, myths, war, and ragged humanity. We find ourselves in a museum maze with one entrance and one exit but that final exit, we do not want to take. It is art that speaks us through, speaks witness, speaks desire, tells us there are other worlds in an ending world. We can move beyond if we are only brave enough to endure the moment of departure.” --Heid E. Erdrich
“You can pray if you want to,” says Melanie Figg in her ravishing debut collection Trace, “but the wind/ makes its own halting pleas.” Trace is a collection of metamorphosis, of things becoming more than they are and the liminal spaces between transitions. Figg explores the stains of history both global and personal as well as the mythos of love to reveal the vestiges of light inherent in all. “Better to unmuscle and move through/ a field of wildflowers you cannot name,” she concludes. Trace is a revelation. --Quan Barry
More Praise for Trace
- "On the Complex Emotions of Surviving," a featured interview about Trace in the May 15, 2020 issue of Kirkus reviews.
- Chloe Yelena Miller reviewed Trace in New Pages
- Longleaf Review: Hannah Grieco interviews me about my work and Trace
- Trace was reviewed in Poet Lore
Poetry Chapbook
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Hurry, Love is a chapbook collaboration
with paper artist/metal worker, Doug Abbott. In workingman and fine arts editions. (Fuori Editions, 2014.) Sold Out. |
