"In these nuanced, incantatory poems, Allison Benis White addresses and inhabits five Wendys, each an archetype and a dimension of self, each 'peeled down to [her] voice.' Violence presses in on all of the Wendys, red or white, blood or milk, sugar, smoke, air, the page, and the prominent white space that demarcates and effaces voice and self. The poems are hushed, personal, spare; language breaks through an enigmatic privacy into a sapphire epiphany. Here, speech is grief. Here, 'the living are the dream of the dead' and the poem is the hallowed interface."
--Diane Seuss
" Allison Benis White uses acute, exquisitely wrought lines to examine violence against women in The Wendys (Four Way, Mar.)...."--Barbara Hoffert "Library Journal" (1/17/2020 12:00:00 AM)
"'Because it is easier to miss a stranger / with your mother's name, ' Allison Benis White writes an extended eulogy to women named Wendy, none of whom and all of whom are her mother. In these carefully made, sorrowful poems, White teases the seams between self and other, between fiction and 'the real' of the mother's lost body. In the book's gorgeous final sequence, Wendy Darling plummets to the earth in achingly slow motion: 'I am lowering my mouth / over her mouth, ' writes White--evoking the eros of poetry's ancient desire to speak to, to breathe with, the dead. These poems teach me how to mourn, which means they teach me how to love."
--Julie Carr