The frank, raw lyrics of Dana Goodyear s second collection draw on the scenery of Los Angeles the teenagers, vagrants, pornographers and the beautiful decay that serves as an insistent reminder to them all. The poems are unsparing but tender, candid but sly, and open to the force of nature on an individual human life. from Wildfire We want this. The end to sleeping, the bittersweet arousal, the peeling back, the soft bath in resin, the release. It can t come quick enough, the hot touch that breaks the crust and lets us go. Hear it now: a crackling, as the woods begin to sing alongside the birds."

The popular "New Yorker "writer combines the style of Mary Roach with the on-the-ground food savvy of Anthony Bourdain.
Dana Goodyear's narrative debut is a highly entertaining, revelatory look into the raucous, strange, fascinatingly complex world of contemporary American food culture. At once an uproarious behind-the-scenes adventure and a serious attempt to understand the implications of an emergent new cuisine, it introduces a cast of compelling and unexpected characters--from Los Angeles Times critic Jonathan Gold, to a high-end Las Vegas purveyor of rare and exotic ingredients, to the traffickers and promoters of raw milk and other forbidden products, to the hottest chefs who rely on them--all of whom, along with today's diners, are changing the face of American eating.
Ultimately, Goodyear looks at what we eat, and tells us who we are. As she places all of this within a vivid historical and cultural framework, she shows how these gathering culinary trends may eventually shape the way all Americans dine. What emerges is a picture of America at a moment of transition, designing the future as it reimagines the past.

These powerful poems are like wrecked pastorals whose narrator seeks temporary pleasure in wit, form, rhyme, or the borrowed weekend house. Inching toward consolation in the face of sudden loss, the poet examines the reconfigured world. The elegies are like conversations overheard or recounted dreams: full of portent and mystery.

The frank, raw lyrics of Dana Goodyear's second collection draw on the scenery of Los Angeles-the teenagers, vagrants, pornographers-and the beautiful decay that serves as an insistent reminder to them all. The poems are unsparing but tender, candid but sly, and open to the force of nature on an individual human life. from "Wildfire" We want this. The end to sleeping, the bittersweet arousal, the peeling back, the soft bath in resin, the release. It can't come quick enough, the hot touch that breaks the crust and lets us go. Hear it now: a crackling, as the woods begin to sing alongside the birds.