The Invented Mother by Thea Goodman- NWVS #175

In a Thea Goodman poem the speaker-mother’s reasoning is ravenous, her discourse, vigorously original, bitingly sonic. The internal rhymes in the poems of her debut collection braid color, light, and ideas into music that is rarely straightforward, but utterly compelling. An example of the invented self as a new mother appears vividly in “After,” The spring drops white petals hot / snow upon limestone pavers that smell like // sex. Goodman plays with form that introduces parentheticals and fragments that ricochet on the page. These poems are both timeless and of-themoment, as in “Bones of Dead Pronouns”: I remember / the hose splitting the sun, my thumb on the nozzle, high / shrieks of summer, when they were a girl. At the heart of this truly ravishing poetry is a plaintive voice giving new shape to experience, and making art of it, art you will ponder and savor.
–Elaine Sexton, author of Drive

From “desert dust that swirls like advice” to the “bones of dead pronouns,” and coyotes who prowl across poems, Thea Goodman’s new collection kicks up wisdom, beauty, despair, love, sex, and rejuvenation. Her range is vast; from free verse to sonnets, Goodman’s poems reframe what was once familiar into something fresh and complex. Spinning motherhood, babyhood, selfhood, and transformation into kaleidoscopic wonder, these poems examine how we make and unmake our lives and selves. “I died early and am a tourist on earth,” Goodman writes, and in this and other lovely, funny moments, readers will be reminded how lucky we are that she made these poems — lyrical visitations from a supremely talented and thoughtful poet.

–Rachel DeWoskin, author of absolute animal and Two Menus

In her stunning debut collection, “The Invented Mother,” Thea Goodman questions and explores the shifting notions of identity and the vicissitudes of parenthood. With complex syntax, lush imagery and associative leaps, these poems plumb emotional depths. Thea Goodman strikes a stance uniquely her own in this stellar chapbook.
–Elise Paschen, author of “The Nightlife”