For the Star that May Have Died

by Nicole Andonov

108 Pages, 6 x 9

Library of Congress Control Number:  2012949935

ISBN:  978-1-935520-73-3

Publication Date:  11/20/2012

Cover Art:  cover art
by Monique Leite

   


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For the Star that May Have Died is Nicole Andonov's first full-length book. Collecting numerous chapbooks and 81 years of life experience this book shares intimate moments of her life as an immigrant and an American as well as her reactions to chaotic events that have touched us all, from 9/11 to climate change. Using a variety of styles but a singular, strong voice, she snapshots her way through this lived life with wonder, irreverence, and occasional sadness.

Recommendations

I've long been a fan of Nicole Andonov's crisp, succinct poems that perfectly display her attentiveness to each word's nuances and coloration: "Mushroom: a verb"; "Chanterelles: a melody." Drawing on influences as varied as Oppen, Pessoa, and Verlaine, her work is casual yet elegant, inviting the reader to share her passion, as well as her doubt. "How does one hold an apple / Who loves apples / And how does one handle / disaster?" she asks.

This exciting book that spans a lifetime, is her answer.

—Elaine Equi


In Nicole Andonov's collection, For the Star that May Have Died, the reader encounters a voice long overdue: wise, playful, irreverent and wholly original. There is a fearless honesty and vulnerability in this book, as Andonov explores the sensations of loss and worldly pleasures in equal measure. The other-worldly and the everyday live together and spark off each other in the same poems. From the experience of first love to witnessing a granddaughter realize she can create a flock of sparrows at her feet with a piece of bread, Andonov takes us to the heart of what it is to be alive and human in a world that makes no promises beyond the present moment, and what the unflinching eye is willing to take in and make into music. Who can resist a poet who would love to find herself "in the fluting of a luminous aurora / open-armed, head tilted toward heaven, feet deep / in a young field of wheat, whirling…"

—Frances Richey