Acoustic Shadows
The distances explored in Acoustic Shadows – between submarines and siblings, quarantined bodies, continents, homes, swaths of time – are both amplified and collapsed in Hall’s resonant vision. These poems reconcile an age of apartness mediated by technology where “everything happens nowhere” and language connects us incompletely. Intimate family narrative coincides with histories of Morse code and maritime navigation, offering vessels in which to “double back / and disrupt our own wakes.” Come within range; this is a collection that both teaches and takes you, poetry of great heart that demands to be found.
-Jess Williard, author of Unmanly Grief
Ceridwen Hall’s Acoustic Shadows brings deep intelligence and a charming geekiness to its record of obsession: with codes and instruments and devices of communication or obfuscation, with water, with memory and its glitches, with family and the kinds of loneliness we feel on our own and in company, with the ways in which language itself can blur meaning as well as transmit it. In poems that are exactly right for this moment, Hall examines how we perceive and communicate across vast distances and through strange and rapidly-evolving media, constantly questioning what we know and how we know it, whether we are communicating via letter, telegraph, or Zoom.
--Katharine Coles, author of Ghost Apples
In these poems, skulls whisper, sisters come and go like cold war submarines, artifacts are circled like sharks, memory is carried as cargo across the vast distance of age-gaps and familial patterns in time. And though Hall’s poems sometimes assure us, “we’re all alike underwater,” they also remind us that “listening is not simple”—to love is to learn to grow denser than the sea, to navigate safe distances for loneliness by error and repair, to hope the communication wires don’t disintegrate across the gaps between us. Acoustic Shadows is a gorgeous force of a book, reckoning with how to “reach through a pause in the telling” in order to come out in the aftermath’s gleam.
--Cori Winrock, author of Little Envelope of Earth Conditions
The distances explored in Acoustic Shadows – between submarines and siblings, quarantined bodies, continents, homes, swaths of time – are both amplified and collapsed in Hall’s resonant vision. These poems reconcile an age of apartness mediated by technology where “everything happens nowhere” and language connects us incompletely. Intimate family narrative coincides with histories of Morse code and maritime navigation, offering vessels in which to “double back / and disrupt our own wakes.” Come within range; this is a collection that both teaches and takes you, poetry of great heart that demands to be found.
-Jess Williard, author of Unmanly Grief
Ceridwen Hall’s Acoustic Shadows brings deep intelligence and a charming geekiness to its record of obsession: with codes and instruments and devices of communication or obfuscation, with water, with memory and its glitches, with family and the kinds of loneliness we feel on our own and in company, with the ways in which language itself can blur meaning as well as transmit it. In poems that are exactly right for this moment, Hall examines how we perceive and communicate across vast distances and through strange and rapidly-evolving media, constantly questioning what we know and how we know it, whether we are communicating via letter, telegraph, or Zoom.
--Katharine Coles, author of Ghost Apples
In these poems, skulls whisper, sisters come and go like cold war submarines, artifacts are circled like sharks, memory is carried as cargo across the vast distance of age-gaps and familial patterns in time. And though Hall’s poems sometimes assure us, “we’re all alike underwater,” they also remind us that “listening is not simple”—to love is to learn to grow denser than the sea, to navigate safe distances for loneliness by error and repair, to hope the communication wires don’t disintegrate across the gaps between us. Acoustic Shadows is a gorgeous force of a book, reckoning with how to “reach through a pause in the telling” in order to come out in the aftermath’s gleam.
--Cori Winrock, author of Little Envelope of Earth Conditions
The distances explored in Acoustic Shadows – between submarines and siblings, quarantined bodies, continents, homes, swaths of time – are both amplified and collapsed in Hall’s resonant vision. These poems reconcile an age of apartness mediated by technology where “everything happens nowhere” and language connects us incompletely. Intimate family narrative coincides with histories of Morse code and maritime navigation, offering vessels in which to “double back / and disrupt our own wakes.” Come within range; this is a collection that both teaches and takes you, poetry of great heart that demands to be found.
-Jess Williard, author of Unmanly Grief
Ceridwen Hall’s Acoustic Shadows brings deep intelligence and a charming geekiness to its record of obsession: with codes and instruments and devices of communication or obfuscation, with water, with memory and its glitches, with family and the kinds of loneliness we feel on our own and in company, with the ways in which language itself can blur meaning as well as transmit it. In poems that are exactly right for this moment, Hall examines how we perceive and communicate across vast distances and through strange and rapidly-evolving media, constantly questioning what we know and how we know it, whether we are communicating via letter, telegraph, or Zoom.
--Katharine Coles, author of Ghost Apples
In these poems, skulls whisper, sisters come and go like cold war submarines, artifacts are circled like sharks, memory is carried as cargo across the vast distance of age-gaps and familial patterns in time. And though Hall’s poems sometimes assure us, “we’re all alike underwater,” they also remind us that “listening is not simple”—to love is to learn to grow denser than the sea, to navigate safe distances for loneliness by error and repair, to hope the communication wires don’t disintegrate across the gaps between us. Acoustic Shadows is a gorgeous force of a book, reckoning with how to “reach through a pause in the telling” in order to come out in the aftermath’s gleam.
--Cori Winrock, author of Little Envelope of Earth Conditions