The Bardo of Becoming is full of tender, questioning memories of a beloved father, a departed dog, a cherished partner-all of them gone now, leaving the writer with the small sensual details that make up a life; taste of cheese and crackers dissolving in the mouth, delicate scent of amaryllis, an ancient address book stuffed with post-it notes, all evidence of a life vibrantly lived, and living still in present time. In Owens’ world the dead and the living rub shoulders, and the bardo of becoming is fresh as spring grass under a young girl’s fingers, and always happening now. – Alison Luterman