With good reason Ann Bookman’s Blood Lines opens in perplexity and grief. A number of women in her Ashkenazi Jewish family, including the poet’s mother, have died from breast or ovarian cancer. The poet herself and her own daughter have the BRCA gene mutation, giving both of them an elevated chance of developing such cancers. Often inspired by other women in her family, this poet refuses to let herself be defined by genetic fear and trembling. These poignant, finely crafted lyrics show us a poet navigating through waves of memory, anxiety, and loss, heading toward an affirmation of life in all its shimmering transience. Fred Marchant, author of Said Not Said (Graywolf Press)

Blood Lines traces the inheritance of a brass menorah, art, and cancer. In this lyrical book of questions and wonder, Ann Bookman reveals a story of loss-vermillion wallet; heirloom ivory comb; mother. Here too, discovery-a healer father unable to save his wife; an adolescence of sadness and freedom; a wary, joyful parenthood; a generous love. With interstices of careful prose, there is a fullness of narrative in this satisfying and moving portrait of the first woman in at least four generations on her maternal grandmother’s side to enter her seventh decade.

Mary Buchinger, author of e i n f u h l u n g/in feeling (Main
Street Rag)

This powerful and poetic memoir offers insightful glimpses of human fragility and strength. Bookman’s own experiences with reproductive health - both personal and political - will resonate with so many readers.

Judy Norsigian and Jane Pincus, co-authors and co-founders of Our
Bodies Ourselves