Somewhere between elegy and memoir, poetry and prose, Ed Pavlic's
Call It in the Air follows the death of a sister into song.
Pavlic's collection traces the life and death of his elder sister,
Kate: a brilliant, talented, tormented woman who lived on her own
terms to the very end. Kate's shadow hovers like a penumbra over
these pages that unfold a kaleidoscope of her world. A small-town
apartment full of "paintings & burritos & pyramid-shaped
empty bottles of Patron & an ad hoc anthology of vibrators." A
banged-up Jeep, loose syringes underfoot, rattles under Colorado
skies. Near an ICU bed, Pavlic agonizes over the most difficult
questions, while doctors "swish off to the tune of their thin-soled
leather loafers." And a diary, left behind, brims with revelations
of vulnerability nearly as great as Pavlic's own. But Call It in
the Air records more than a relationship between brother and
sister, more than a moment of personal loss. "I sit while eleven
bodies of mine fall all over the countless mysteries of who you
are," he writes, while "Somewhere along the way, heat blasting past
us & out the open jeep, the mountain sky turned to black steel
& swung open its empty mouth." In moments like these, Pavlic
recognizes something of his big sister everywhere. Rived by loss
and ravaged by grief, Call It in the Air mingles the voices of
brother and sister, one falling and one forgiven, to offer an
intimate elegy that meditates on love itself.
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