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"All fire and surprise, sadness and forgiveness...I could never say enough about the beauty of this work." -Jericho Brown
"Cameron's poems are wonderfully full, energetic, and ardent." -Vijay Seshadri
"McGill skillfully navigates the mysteries of relationship, memory, and regret as the best poets do." -Dorianne Laux
"It's been a long time since I have heard the 'god of small thunder' echo so powerfully in a collection." -Campbell McGrath
Cameron McGill's debut collection of poetry, In the Night Field, spotlights the effects of memory: its startling artistry, varied discontents, and casual fallibility. These poems chart the complex relationship between mental health and place; the difficult paths home can be lonely and circuitous, the emotional coordinates we map along the way a reminder of those intimate regions that hold and haunt us. These can be isolating passages, but are just as often fertile: "I walk further each day toward the strange / austerity my heart makes of reason." Between the attentive, persistent self and the longed-for, absent other arises a fragmented conversation, an exchange that's in a constant state of arrival. As McGill shows us, memories are a corrective, carrying back to us occasions for instruction, reconciliation, or in those astonishing flashes of clarity, what again hopes to be loved.
"Cameron's poems are wonderfully full, energetic, and ardent." -Vijay Seshadri
"McGill skillfully navigates the mysteries of relationship, memory, and regret as the best poets do." -Dorianne Laux
"It's been a long time since I have heard the 'god of small thunder' echo so powerfully in a collection." -Campbell McGrath
Cameron McGill's debut collection of poetry, In the Night Field, spotlights the effects of memory: its startling artistry, varied discontents, and casual fallibility. These poems chart the complex relationship between mental health and place; the difficult paths home can be lonely and circuitous, the emotional coordinates we map along the way a reminder of those intimate regions that hold and haunt us. These can be isolating passages, but are just as often fertile: "I walk further each day toward the strange / austerity my heart makes of reason." Between the attentive, persistent self and the longed-for, absent other arises a fragmented conversation, an exchange that's in a constant state of arrival. As McGill shows us, memories are a corrective, carrying back to us occasions for instruction, reconciliation, or in those astonishing flashes of clarity, what again hopes to be loved.