Dangerous, driven and determined—what it took to fight back
A review of historical novel To Die Beautiful
A review of historical novel To Die Beautiful
Peter Heller’s Burn pits two hunting buddies against a civilization ravaged by violence
A review of Whiskey Tender, a memoir of dislocation and re-integration
Detective Inaya Rahman brings her signature empathy and experience to two complex cases
A semi-dystopic near future feels too familiar in Helen Phillips’ novel, Hum
Anthology explores the quest for acceptance by Black women, gender nonconforming and nonbinary people in nature
Ojibwe author Byron Graves’ debut novel Rez Ball dribbles its way into awards and honors, as well as readers’ hearts
How a shooting in her neighborhood spurred a writer to action and gave birth to a collaborative artist book
coming storm marks each month of a year in poems. Like Matsuo Basho, the traditional haiku master, Colorado Springs-based poet and teacher Dave Reynolds invokes images of the natural world and seasons. Beginning with January, he reflects upon snow laden scenes, deer in moonlight and impending storms. His family is often the subject. Coffee and spouse’s moods percolate; arguments pave paths like an avalanche. February speaks to resolutions and the pull of unbreakable habits. Yet those moments are erased in a blanket of white, their marks only visible once feet leave a Hansel and Gretel trail. Spring begins with reflections on the past and wordplay: “another year / another columbine shooting / up through the dirt.” Here, Reynolds remembers April 20, 1999, and the Columbine High School mass shooting. He, too, is a high school educator, Chair of the English department at Fountain Valley School in Colorado Springs. In his haiku, he educates his reader, remembering past losses masked in the colors of mountain flowers. Reynolds canters into hopeful summer: “the fog lifts / one by one / horses on the prairie.” He steps outside the indoor classroom to open space. Meadowlarks trill, dandelion seeds blow in the wind and fireflies glow like what once was. As summer fades, sometimes life does too. Reynolds learns by “letting go” those memories, just as he breaks with traditional haiku in both syllable count and topic. Dave Reynolds uses humor, sadness, nostalgia and love to animate his delicate haiku. He dedicates his collection to the women in his life, as well as haiku writers and readers—those that inspire him and keep the art form alive today. — Shelli Rottschafer