Urgent and precarious, the poems in The Rapids, Susan Gillis’ third collection, take us to places lost and reclaimed: a balcony high over the St. Lawrence River in downtown Montreal, upstream to the Lachine Rapids, and beyond, to landscapes as far apart as Greece and the B.C. coast.
At the heart of The Rapids is a lucidly articulate intelligence continuously on the move, taking unexpected turns, opening up multiple new perspectives on every phenomenon—architecture, romance, the Russian novel, St. Jerome, the rapids themselves—ultimately overturning all assumptions and conclusions. Yet what remains after riding these rapids into the clear is a bell-like, haunting calm.