Return Flight

“Huang joyfully and deftly weaves together mythology, objects, landscapes, food, violence and intimacy across time and space into an immersive collection that hits every pleasure center and deeply felt emotional beat.”

“An emerging, brilliant poet … Huang’s poems ring true for readers expressly because of their willingness to share the often complicated, difficult-to-pin-down yearning of the outsider, and as Huang’s speakers journey back through difficult terrain, we are often returned to a place of compassion and openness for where we might land next.”

“There is such a thing as a vulnerability, not of the personal, but of the unsaid: a strength in testifying to contradiction, overflowing occurrence, like saying something that surprises even yourself or a fleeing that returns. Return Flight is an attentive but effulgent but joyously aching book. Its lines dig inward and cling even as they unfold outward in excess and surprise. ‘What pain is the desire for pain?’ one poem asks. ‘Many visitors lately, another begins, I wake to an ache in my sternum.’ Huang’s lines can move like that, with, sonically, crystalline compactness, while directing the reader with cinematic clarity of scene and the delights of recontextualization. ‘I wanted this poem to be about dropping textbooks on my arm to get out of practicing violin’ is an actual—how carefully it discloses!—opening line. And while there is much to mourn, and Return Flight does mourn, it never gives into despair, the unsaid of parting, things never touching—but offers in its place a poetics of gentle, real, expansive touching. It comes back around and leads us out: like a ‘window you turn to and notice outside two papayas touching.’ Return Flight is a book that aligns itself with pleasure. Burrow inside.”

“Jennifer Huang’s compelling poems arise from the mutable realm between speaking and flying, touching and breaking, absence and forgiveness, numbness and desire, everywhere and nowhere, the home of the body—and home. Here, the poem abides even through gradations of silence—the bone in the throat, the tongue both captive and captivated, and love, too, abides, despite striations and separations, even dissolving the veil between the living and the dead. Huang writes, “what I know is what I imagine,” and it is imagination, made manifest in poems that map a blooming selfhood, that fuels the concentric energy of Return Flight.”

“Jennifer Huang’s Return Flight feels like a conversation and journey at once. It is a charismatic debut collection, one of whose many feats is its meditation on lineage. The poet asks: How does pain suture and puncture a family through generations? What language gives what body to that pain? Whose languages and forms have I inherited? Whose literary lineages am I writing in? Deeply introspective, Huang also contemplates the ‘distance between me and I,’ the distance between themselves and their body, and how love can turn the self into a stranger as well as an opening for others. I marvel at the intimacy and wonder with which Huang treats and transforms their figures––many of whom are shape-shifting, mythical, or part-human––to render their themes into rich imagery. At the end of this conversation, this journey, I also emerge a different animal, vigilant and curious about my own body and its place in this strange, cruel, and miraculous world.”

“How delighted I am by these poems that praise ‘the holy scent of ripe mud’ and the ‘joyful stench’ of chou doufu. How moved I am by this poet who understands that beauty can stink, desire can suffocate as much as illuminate, and becoming is an endless looking back while dreaming into. And family is never simple, always ample with history, lilies, seas, such fissure alongside tenderness. Jennifer Huang is more than an undeniably talented poet—they are an uncompromising truth-teller.”

“Return Flight is both grave and beautiful, often simultaneously, a clear window into Jennifer Huang’s life”

“Poems about childhood and selfhood, pleasure and pain, that try on different forms…”