The Sundress Academy for the Arts is excited to present Poetry Xfit hosted by Brynn Martin. This generative workshop event will take place on Sunday, April 25th, from 2 to 4 pm EST via Zoom. Join us at the link tiny.utk.edu/sundress with the password “safta”.
Poetry Xfit isn’t about throwing tires or heavy ropes, but the idea of confusing our muscles is the same. You will receive ideas, guidelines, and more as part of this generative workshop series in order to complete three poems in two hours. A new set of prompts will be provided after the writers have written collaboratively for thirty minutes. The goal is to create material that can be later modified and transformed into artwork rather than producing flawless final versions. The event is open to prose authors as well!
The theme for April’s Poetry Xfit is “Joy.” In the uncertain, dispiriting, and often violent times we are living through, it can be difficult to hold onto comfort and, even more so, happiness. While writing is often a tool to process trauma and hopelessness, it is just as important to find and celebrate joy and warmth through the gloom.
Brynn Martin (she/her) is a Midwesterner at heart, but she has spent the last decade living in Knoxville, where she received her MFA in poetry from the University of Tennessee. She is an Associate Editor for Sundress Publications and the event manager for an indie bookstore. Her poetry has appeared in Contrary Magazine, Rogue Agent, FIVE:2:ONE, and Crab Orchard Review, among others.
The Sundress Academy for the Arts is excited to present “Writing the Speculative Diaspora,” a workshop led by Kyla-Yến Huỳnh Giffin on Wednesday, April 8th from 6:00-7:30 PM EST. This event will be held over Zoom. Participants can access the event at tiny.utk.edu/sundress (password: SAFTA).
Every story is a diaspora story, and every diaspora story is speculative in nature. In this craft talk and workshop, open to all genres, students will gain an appreciation for diaspora stories and be able to spot and understand the presence of the speculative within them. We’ll discuss perspectives on diaspora narratives from authors such as Ocean Vuong, Viet Thanh Nguyen, R.F. Kuang, and Ling Ma; diaspora stories’ role in challenging western storytelling conventions; and how diaspora pushes against genre, concepts of truth and authenticity, and the confines of individuality and representation. We’ll then discover the speculative diaspora form and its potential, and explore the speculative diaspora through writing prompts such as truth/lie (“speculative truth”)/dream activities and a collective storytelling exercise.
While there is no fee to participate in this workshop, those who are able and appreciative may make donations directly to Kyla-Yến Huỳnh Giffin via Venmo: @kylayen or PayPal @KylaYenHuynhGiffin
Kyla-Yến Huỳnh Giffin (they/them) is a queer and trans, biracial, Vietnamese American diaspora writer whose speculative work focuses on diaspora, transness, ecology, empire, and intergenerational histories. They are a Press Editor for Half Mystic Press, a Co-Coordinator for Sundress Publications’ Poets in Pajamas, and an Associate Editor for Iron Horse Literary Review. Kyla-Yến’s work has been nominated for Best of the Net, and appears in The Offing, Oroboro, Vănguard, and other publications. They have been awarded residencies, workshops, and/or fellowships from Tin House, the Sundress Academy for the Arts (SAFTA), Seventh Wave, Abode Press, and more.
I can’t fit all the books in my personal collection in one photograph. Some of them are stacked in my television console while others are on my counter, and the majority are shoved onto two bookcases: a larger one downstairs, carefully organized into genre, and another in my bedroom that I’ve dubbed “The Romance Shelf” for all my favorite romance and Young Adult novels.
Even with all these books scattered around my apartment, I still have another full bookshelf in my childhood bedroom in Texas, filled to the brim with all the books I couldn’t afford to house here in Tennessee once I moved for college. And once a book becomes mine, it’s hard for me to let go. While most readers are incredibly careful with their books, trying their best to keep them pristine, I view the imperfections on my books as a badge of honor. Almost all of them have signs of love, even if they’ve barely been touched. To me, the wear and tear of a book can show you how much it means to its owner (as seen by the tear stains inside several of of my favorites).
Many people would hear that information and assume that I’m incredibly well-read. While that is correct in some aspects, there’s a lot more to the story. In truth, I love to collect books. There’s nothing quite like the rush of going into a bookstore, whether it be a Barnes and Noble or a well-used thrift books establishment, and finding a title that you want to dive into. The issue for me is that I can never say no. So, the book ends up coming home with me to collect dust on a shelf until I find the energy to pick it up.
As a mood reader, I find it very difficult to stick to a pre-planned “To Be Read.” To choose a book to read, I have to ponder on what I’m currently feeling, what I want to feel, and how much is going on in my life. However strange this may be, I have noticed that waiting to read a book you’ve been anticipating adds an incredible amount to the experience. In fact, most of my favorite novels are ones that I put off reading for months or years. So, this list of novels on my shelf falls in that category. Each of these are books that I had been wanting to read before I actually picked them up, whether by force through classwork or my own volition. Now, they sit on my shelf with pride, and I am all the better for the knowledge they’ve brought me.
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
I anticipated this book for a year before I read it. The first time I had heard of it, I was a junior in high school, and I watched as the seniors filed into my AP Environmental Sciences class with tears on their faces. When I asked what was wrong, they just shook their heads. Later, I would learn that each of them had just finished reading The Kite Runner in Mrs. Bing’s AP Literature and Composition class, which I knew I would be taking next year. Fast forward a year later, and the book was already sitting on my shelf, begging to be cracked open. Throughout the course of reading this novel, I shed several tears and felt things I didn’t know books could make me feel. For the first time, I felt like the class discussions I was having with my peers meant something important, and I knew they all felt it as well. To me, this book is a beginning. It started my love of literary analysis and discussion, my craving for knowledge about worlds outside of my own, and made me wonder if I could ever be as good of a teacher as Mrs. Bing was one day (still to be seen!). Even more, it was a revelation that opened my eyes to the world around me and changed the way I viewed the world.
The Kite Runner perfectly blends themes of friendship, family, and political conflict, highlighting the effects of the Afghan conflict on Amir, our main character. More so, it tackles the ideas of forgiveness and atonement, painting a beautiful picture that allows readers to both understand and identify with Amir. Plus, the novel’s rich descriptions of Afghan culture, both in Afghanistan and as refugees in America, are absolutely amazing. I truly recommend this book to everyone, no matter who you are!
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
This one is a little more embarrassing. When I was in middle school, I was obsessed with Cassandra Clare’s The Infernal Devices trilogy. In the trilogy, two of the main characters bond over their love of Dickens, particularly A Tale of Two Cities, and constantly make references while using themselves as metaphors for the characters in the novel. I begged my mom to take me to the mall, where I bought a Barnes and Noble Classics edition of the novel. But the moment I cracked it open, I couldn’t read it. For years, I tried to get past the first few pages, but I could never understand what exactly Dickens was trying to say. It felt too profound, so I gave up, resolving to read it eventually, whenever that may be. Imagine my pleasant surprise when I walked into Dr. Nancy Henry’s 19th Century British Literature course at the University of Tennessee and saw A Tale of Two Cities on the syllabus! Reading it as an adult and finally understanding those small references that I wanted to know so desperately as a child healed me, but it also opened my mind up to a world of new history and literature. Once again, I felt connection with my peers through class discussion, and I firmly believe those discussions and interactions are the reason it is cemented as my favorite classical novel. Well, other than the fact that I cry every time I read the last few paragraphs!
Before reading this book, I didn’t know much about the French Revolution. However, Dickens’ use of imagery and metaphor, especially in the scenes with Madame Defarge, are insightful into the conflict itself. Each character is so lovable in their own ways, even the “bad” ones! They make you root for them and sympathize with them, and by the end of the novel, I was fully invested into each and every one of them. I never wanted it to end!
The Fifth Season by NK Jemisin
I felt the opposite of anticipation before reading this book. I had only ever heard of it in spaces that praised incredibly complex fantasy, and quite frankly, I never thought I would get into it. Knowing that a third of the book is in second person point-of-view intrigued me, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt too intimidated to actually purchase it. Imagine my surprise when I saw the syllabus for my Science Fiction and Fantasy class in college, and The Fifth Season was the second to last book on the list! I was told by my professor, Dr. Amy Elias, that it was one of the best books she had ever read, but I couldn’t get rid of the dread lingering in my stomach leading up to the moment I cracked open the novel. But from the moment I read the first page, I was hooked. Each line brought more questions that I needed answered, and the only way to get them was to continue reading. By the end of the novel, I was left with even more, yet I was still completely satisfied with everything I’d read.
It’s difficult for me to talk about how much I love this book without spoiling it, so I’ll be brief. Jemisin does something so beautiful with her writing, and each point of view is so rich and vibrant. The way she tackles oppression and family throughout the entire series is masterfully done, and although it is confusing at times, I have never felt more satisfied by learning the answers I’d been longing to know by the end. Even better is the worldbuilding and intricate magic system, using the earth and magic in a way I’ve never read before. For those who love fantasy and are looking for something new, this is my number one recommendation!
Turtles All The Way Down by John Green
When I was younger, I was an avid fan of John Green. Like most people my age, The Fault In Our Stars was one of my first heartbreaks caused by a book, and I read the rest of his repertoire rather quickly. When Turtles All The Way Down was finally published, though, I had moved on to other things. I had always wanted to read it, but I never had the chance. In fact, I was told not to read it. Because I am someone who suffers from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) like the novel’s main character, several people told me that reading it would do nothing but trigger a mental spiral. However, that made me want to read it more to see if its depiction of OCD was realistic.
This book did trigger a mental spiral for me, but I think that shows how good of job Green did with his depiction of OCD. I found myself relating to every sentence and every thought. Although it is easier for me to control my obsessive-compulsive thoughts than Aza, I could complete understand the way her mind works, as it is the same as mine. It almost scared me to see my own thought processes reflected in a novel not written by me. I truly would recommend this book to anyone who knows someone with OCD or obsessive-compulsive tendencies. It will make you understand them and their brain a lot more!
The Autobiography of Malcolm X by Malcolm X and Alex Haley
I first learned about Malcolm X in high school, but he was characterized as “the opposite of Martin Luther King Jr.” My peers and I were told that he had more “radical” ideas and that he supported the use of violence during the Civil Rights Movement. Immediately, I was intrigued to learn more about him, but I was never a big fan of autobiographies. Once again, I was gifted the pleasure of reading this novel through a class syllabus, for Dr. Urmila Seshagiri’s memoir course. Opening those pages and reading their contents was one of the hardest things I’ve done. I had to come to terms with a lot of information that made me feel sad, uncomfortable, and downright angry, but it helped me gain a new perspective into this integral part of American history. I am so grateful for the chance to glimpse into Malcolm X’s mind, and I feel that it helped me understand so much more about the Black experience in America, both in the past and today.
The thing that shocked me the most about this novel is how much of Malcolm X has been erased or dimmed in current American history classes. It spans all the way up to X’s assassination, and Alex Haley chronicles some of the time afterwards. Through the entire memoir, one thing is obvious: Malcolm X wasn’t a man that craved violence, he was a man that craved change and autonomy. Because of the gross mischaracterization that mainstream society places on X, I believe every American should read this memoir.
The Poppy War by RF Kuang
I had this book endlessly recommended to me before I read it. Everyone told me it was one of the best fantasy books ever written while also warning me about its dark nature. “This isn’t what you normally think when you think of fantasy,” they said. “It’s hard to read at times, but it’s worth it.” Eventually, I bought it, and like several other books, it sat on my shelf collecting dust for a few years. It wasn’t until a very close friend of mine sat on my couch and finished the third book in the trilogy with tears streaming down her face that I knew I needed to pick it up immediately. Turns out, everyone was right. Immediately upon finishing it, after I had already cried three times, I knew that this book had dethroned another and taken the spot of my Favorite Book.
Much of this novel is heavily inspired by Chinese history, the Sino-Japanese War, and acts of genocide. As the main character, Rin, learns more about the world around her, she becomes entangled with the empire’s gods, realizing that the line between the spiritual and physical world is thinner than she previously believed. When war comes to Nikan, she is forced to throw herself into battle at the cost of her own mind and sanity. I feel like Kuang perfectly uses history and mythology together to create a story centered around incredibly complex characters. Truly, her writing perfectly blends plot with character in a way that I’ve never seen before. I felt like reading it helped me understand what I want to accomplish in my own fantasy novel, and I believe it made me a better writer. I want everyone under the sun to read this book!
The Pairing by Casey McQuiston
Casey McQuiston is an author I’ve loved for a long time. Red, White, & Royal Blue and One Last Stop were both five star reads for me, and I consistently reread them when I want to feel something again. Their novels center around some of the most beautiful and difficult parts of queerness, and I’ve always appreciated their ability to make me laugh and cry two pages apart. The Pairing was a novel I had been looking to read since its publication, but I wasn’t able to get to it until a month ago. However, I was shocked (in a good way) by how different this novel was compared to McQuiston’s others.
I enjoyed every part of this book. The writing made me feel like I was truly traveling across Europe with Kit and Theo, and the different foods and wines they tried made me desperate to take my own trip across the sea. Queer culture is littered throughout its pages, and Theo’s gender identity struggles in learning they are nonbinary were included in such a natural, raw, and beautiful way. However, the main reason I am including this book is because it changed and reframed my perception of love. Kit and Theo are exactly what I believe love should be— they see every single part of each other, including their flaws, and love each other because of them rather than in spite of them. The way that Theo and Kit talk about each other in this book is magical, poetic, and realistic all at once, and I feel that everyone should aspire to find this kind of love. If you want to read the happiest ending, pick this one up immediately!
Shelby Hansen (she/her) is a creative writer and self-proclaimed fantasy maestro hailing from the northern plains of Texas. She recently graduated from the University of Tennessee’s English program with a focus in Literature and Creative Writing, where she won several awards for her fiction. Her writing often focuses on womanhood, identity, and the reclamation of the self. This is reflected in her debut novel, which she hopes to publish soon. When she is not writing or teaching today’s youth, she enjoys reading, crocheting, swimming, and spending time with her two cats, Stella and Gemma.
Part modern and part reminiscent of Romantic era poetry, At the Window, Silence (Fernwood Press, 2025) by Kenneth Pobo elicits the reader’s emotional side through combining commonly identifiable experiences with arresting phrases. The first half of the collection, titled “Inside,” traipses through a wide variety of topics, from family to religion and beauty, while the second half, titled “Outside,” homes in on the garden and plants, often using them to explore philosophy and self-reflection. Gardeners will enjoy the specific plant references, both the lovely, wanted chosen and the horrid, unwanted weeds. You might be taken by surprise, as I was, to find Pobo’s words and stories grip your heart and squeeze tears out.
Although “Inside” spans diverse themes, the stories, and often frank method of telling them, keeps the reader intrigued. My favorite poem from this section, “Marriage and Canned Peaches,” transports the reader into the exact scenario of the story, mentally and emotionally. Many of us have experienced being in a long-term, and rather sad, relationship. Pobo really captures the hopeless despair when he writes:
“We sit on opposite sides of her sad eyes, then talk of work,
the moon trapped like a key that broke in a lock.” (Pobo 18)
Other poems have a touch of humor, like the set that explores the sin of Adam and Eve and asks, “Why do our kids never ask / about our pasts?” (Pobo 39). This set needs basic biblical familiarity to appreciate, but both Christians and non-Christians alike will identify with the questions and points. Pobo points out that sometimes God can be harsh: “One mistake and you’re out” of the garden of Eden (Pobo 39). Pobo advocates for mercy, saying that everyone makes mistakes, and maybe we should “get some fireproof tongs” to pull out those sent to Hell for just one mistake (Pobo 41).
Just as abruptly as Adam and Eve were thrown out of the garden, we leave the myriad collection of “Inside” behind and step into “Outside,” the more focused and fine-tuned part of the book. With Romantic-type connections between nature and emotions, Pobo uses different plant species to study aspects of his own history and self. Everyone will find something emotionally pretty outside: dreams, fragility, and surprising loves.
The piece that gleams most brightly for me in At the Window, Silence is “Blue Himalayan Poppy,” in which the blue poppy represents something you want, but really won’t work with your current life, yet you illogically avow to possess anyway. Pobo orders his precious blue poppy, despite not being in the right climate for it. There are some things we can change about our lives and some things we can’t. Since he cannot move to the paradise of the Pacific Northwest where both himself and the blue poppy would flourish, Pobo proclaims he will help it thrive nonetheless in sweaty Pennsylvania, and “Blue petal waves / will find our yard’s shoreline, / break and break all spring long” (Pobo 61). Pobo makes the best of his life on the East Coast, filling his garden with his dreams.
Not all plants are things of beauty like the blue poppy, and our days are often filled with weeds that need pulling up. Another poem very relevant to our modern lives is “Weeding Borders,” which discusses the topic of boundary setting. Pobo points out that even if we plant strong borders with those we love, those borders start to grow weeds and will eventually disappear without maintenance. It takes effort to keep gardening what we want to grow, and to keep even our most beloved inside their borders. In simple, relatable language, Pobo says:
“Tonight
I’m going to sit by Stan and not talk about work, neaten the border, make it possible for beauty, slowly, to come into blossom.” (Pobo 63)
Throughout this collection, one recurring idea is that although “to err is human,” as Alexander Pope has said, we must keep trying. Weeds will try to grow, and we must continue to pluck them out. Work will try to invade our personal lives, and we must set boundaries with our time. Loved ones might try to make unfair demands, and we must balance our own needs. Pobo communicates that we should approach mistakes with understanding and forgiveness. We’ve all regretted some action, and Pobo reminds us it’s just a part of our humanity. In this book, even Adam forgives Eve, saying he might have done the same, if the snake had found him first, and
“Maybe Judas, freed, will email Jesus and say, Hey, I goofed. Sorry.” (Pobo 41)
And that’s all that’s needed.
At the Window, Silence offers everyday loveliness and mercy for everyone, and I recommend it for most adult readers. Home gardeners will especially appreciate the “Outside” poems. This collection is best enjoyed either in private or with close friends, in case it sparks strong emotion, and is best read in your own backyard. I would also like to recommend the following tea pairing with this book: Garden Therapy Herbal Tea. This tea combines familiar and soothing herbs with a touch of special verbena, allowing you to relax in a quietly fresh garden scent while reading from either side of your window.
Ana Mourant (she/her) is an editorial intern for Sundress Publications and a recent graduate of the University of Washington’s editing program. She holds a Certificate in Editing as well as a Certificate in Storytelling and Content Strategy, and a BA in English Language and Literature, with a minor in Professional Writing. Ana conducts manuscript evaluations, edits, and proofreads, as well as provides authenticity and sensitivity readings for Indigenous Peoples content. Ana loves nature writing and Indigenous cultures, and, when she’s not working, is often out in the wilderness tracking animals, Nordic skiing, or just enjoying nature.
With an intriguing curlew bird guiding the reader on a journey of metaphysical thoughts and poppies dancing us from page to page, small earthly space (Shanti Arts Publishing, 2025) by Marjorie Maddox is an enchanting collection of poems that mix the everyday with the spiritual and preternatural. Part nature writing and part musing on the human experience, this book will cause you to pause and reflect, both to appreciate the grandeur of the prose and to enjoy being struck by the meanings. Unique artworks by Karen Elias are perfectly paired with each poem, and I would personally love several of them displayed on my wall next to their inspirations.
Divided into five parts, small earthly space begins with an introduction to the messenger—the curlew—who has some saintly connections it forages for, when not burrowing deep for its own sustenance. “How far down would you go for wisdom?” (Maddox 23) we are asked, while the curlew takes us to the depths of the ocean before showing us the fine line that separates heaven from earth above. At times, the poetry has a mysterious vibe, and at other times, a more worldly one. The curlew sketches the spiritual for us, after which “another Babel [is] reconstructed in our own image” (Maddox 24) and we enter the human-focused world.
Part II brings us sharply to poetry about the everyday: about a mother sitting quietly, about a home, and about eating blueberry pie at a cemetery. We’re walked through a junkyard and deathbed before getting to rejoin nature with a gentle poem of clouds and dandelions. After the more transcendental topics of Part I, Part II feels like we’ve landed on the ground, and are walking around observing everyday life from within rather than soaring around it. Part III contains a few poems about an intense wildfire that happened in the town of Curlew, Washington. We meet our curlew bird again, this time as a witness to the destruction from the wildfire. Topics of devastation and danger feature in this section, along with some environmental poetry about endangered species, including humans. Our curlew witness calls out into the loneliness of the wildfire-ravaged ecosystem and gets no response. Maddox helps the reader experience the loneliness of the burned landscape before we’re whisked away to Part IV and a more stellar atmosphere.
Curlew of the New Moon Discovers a Poppy
My favorite poem from this collection opens Part IV: “Curlew of the New Moon Discovers a Poppy.” The curlew remembers the beauty of the poppies before the destruction and
“un-buries instead the curved brilliance of joy, hallucinates a happiness addictive enough to be real.” (Maddox 76)
The reader feels wonder and awe again, at the beauty Earth offers us. We then sail through a set of poppy-themed poems, each lovely and paired with a custom artwork, as seen in the accompanying image here by Elias. As a fan of nature poetry, I love seeing this themed section. We read of a poppy’s connection with a cedar tree and glimpse the poppy’s personality (sometimes shy, sometimes bold), which introduces us to the last part of this book called “Bloom.”
Most of the pieces in this book fit on one page or two opposing pages, but two pieces are longer: “Made to Scale” and “Hues of the Hollyhock.” “Made to Scale” treats us to a more extensive writing about beginnings and endings and opportunities. In a forest of possibilities, everything depends on your own views and actions. Maddox repeats the following idea in multiple ways throughout the poem: “It is only a door if you enter or leave” (Maddox 47). After all, if you don’t use it, what may be a door might as well be a stone wall.
The second long poem of the book opens Part V, meditating on the many “Hues of the Hollyhock.” Unlike what you might expect, only one featured hue is a pink. We see a ghostbloom, blood flowers, and black hollyhocks, all written about with dark words and topics. An excerpt from “Hues of the Hollyhock”:
“O ghost of Seasons Past, if these shadows
remain unaltered by the Future …, will only black smoke and drab ash, ubiquitous soot and too-late regret populate our abandoned gardens?” (Maddox 90)
The poem ebbs and subsides with a light show in a kimono blossom brightening our senses before transitioning to a quiet amber calm, then, a final splash of rainbow color.
Most of the writing in this collection treats the prosaic with elegance. Maddox infuses her style into each poem, whether the theme is nature or more Gothic like death and destruction. The book touches the spiritual while keeping us grounded with bold visuals, traveling through both the unknown as well as the “imaginative and geographical locations we call home” (Maddox 17).
small earthly space has broad appeal, and I recommend it for most adult readers, for both casual or thought-provoking reading. This collection can be enjoyed both in public or private, but is best read somewhere where you have space for peaceful contemplation. Your own backyard or a public garden or park would be ideal. I would also like to recommend the following tea pairing Bird Nerd Birdwatching Tea. This tea combines the familiar into a unique blend that will both sooth and gently stimulate your senses, enriching your similar reading experience of small earthly space.
Ana Mourant (she/her) is an editorial intern for Sundress Publications and a recent graduate of the University of Washington’s editing program. She holds a Certificate in Editing as well as a Certificate in Storytelling and Content Strategy, and a BA in English Language and Literature, with a minor in Professional Writing. Ana conducts manuscript evaluations, edits, and proofreads, as well as provides authenticity and sensitivity readings for Indigenous Peoples content. Ana loves nature writing and Indigenous cultures, and, when she’s not working, is often out in the wilderness tracking animals, Nordic skiing, or just enjoying nature.
Growing up in rural Alaska, my family lived a largely subsistence lifestyle, which is the term we use when a family obtains most of its food from the wild rather than a store. We foraged for berries, fished for salmon, and hunted moose. We didn’t have a TV when I was young, nor computers, mobile phones, or even running water. Books, however, we did have. My family’s village had a small library, with many more books than people. Only about thirty people lived in the village year-round (yes, thirty, not thirty thousand), and our small library had around ten thousand books. With this book-to-people ratio, it’s no wonder that I became an introverted bibliophile.
People began to attract my attention as a teenager when I became interested in languages and met several foreign exchange students after we moved to the city. I use the word “city” loosely, since Juneau is a small town from most of the world’s point of view. But for us, Juneau was considered the “big city,” with its population of thirty thousand (yes, thirty thousand, instead of just thirty). I took linguistics, French, and Latin in school, and learned a bit of various other languages, including Greek, Italian, Mandarin, and Cantonese. My family decided to host an exchange student, after which I launched myself off on my own series of exchange programs to Greece, France, and Czechia, and spent my junior year of high school abroad in Germany (adding fluent German to my list).
In college, I knew I wanted work with literature, and initially thought I would become a writer. From my extensive language background (at that point I could speak five languages, to varying degrees), I knew I wanted to procure a thorough education not just in English literature, but the English language as well, from a linguistic point of view. I found the program I wanted which offered a major in English Language and Literature, with a minor in Professional Writing. I completed my BA and was also awarded membership to Sigma Tau Delta International English Honor Society.
College life was fun, mine especially so since I had the pleasure of studying English and global literature written from the beginning of the Old English language up to the present. Still, my heart has to get off the pages and into the woods sometimes. No matter what country I’m in or how many buildings I’m temporarily surrounded by, I always make time to return to the forest, the mountains, or whatever form of nature I can get to. I also make time to listen to Indigenous storytellers whenever the opportunity arises. Growing up in Alaska, I was immersed in both Indigenous as well as Euro-American culture. When I wasn’t out playing in the forest or reading, I was often listening to others tell their stories. In Alaska, we’re lucky that live storytelling is popular, both in casual settings as well as large ticketed events in cities. During the latter half of my college years, I began to realize that my true passion lies not in writing my own creations, but in helping others to tell their stories.
When I discovered editing, I knew that this was the path for me: helping others tell their stories. My mind is analytical, my background is strong in language, and my heart is with storytellers who have braved the wilds of life and have enthralling experiences to share. I found that I enjoy helping others more than writing my own pieces from scratch. I love the process of analysis. I love seeing the forest through the trees and helping the story shine. I love getting a rough manuscript and working as a team with the author to form it, see it grow, and watch it bloom.
After I finished my undergraduate program, I pursued this passion and went to grad school at the University of Washington to obtain my editing certificate. I graduated in June 2025, not only with my editing certificate, but also with a certificate in storytelling and content strategy. I am now equipped to help authors find their voice and bring stories to the world.
During my time at the University of Washington, and since then, I’ve edited books, news articles, and websites. I’ve worked with well-known authors, first-time authors, international journalists, and businesses around the world. I enjoy editing a wide variety of material, my favorites being nature writing and anything by or about Indigenous Peoples. As of this writing, besides my editorial internship with Sundress Publications, I’m the copyeditor for journalist Marcie Sillman, and I continue to freelance edit for a wide variety of publishing houses, authors, and businesses. My three favorite authors are Robert Macfarlane and Tristan Gooley, both nature writers, and Wes Henry, whose wonderful prose makes me smile every time I work on his humorous teaching memoir manuscript (in the substantive editing phase as of this writing).
Ana Mourant is an editorial intern for Sundress Publications and a recent graduate of the University of Washington’s editing program. She holds a Certificate in Editing as well as a Certificate in Storytelling and Content Strategy, and a BA in English Language and Literature, with a minor in Professional Writing. Ana conducts manuscript evaluations, developmental edits, structural edits, line edits, copyedits, proofreads, and beta reads, as well as authenticity and sensitivity readings for Indigenous Peoples content. Ana loves nature writing and Indigenous cultures, and, when she’s not working, is often out in the wilderness tracking animals, Nordic skiing, or just enjoying nature.
When someone asks where I’m from, sometimes I say “the mountains,” both because it’s true and because it’s fun to see people’s reactions. After all, why should we identify with a political state rather than an environment? Many times I’ve felt that I have more in common with someone who also grew up in wild places, whether in Alaska (like me) or in Africa, rather than someone who grew up in an urban setting. The natural environment we’re raised in, or the lack of one, affects us more than changing politics and monetary systems.
I’m sharing some book recommendations on nature writing and Indigenous Peoples today, for those of you that desire to immerse yourself in nature, even for just an hour. Take a mental break from urban life and pick up one of these unique reads. I’m presenting this bookshelf in three sections: nature writing, Indigenous Peoples, and nature-themed poetry. I’ve also selected one book to be the special feature of this collection. Feel free to skip to your section of interest, or dare to be tempted to read them all. Each book listed here is selected for its distinct content. Some are famous in their genre, and some are obscure treasures. For an immersive experience, read these outside in nature, at a local park, or even just by your window. I will give some immersive reading location ideas for each book below, tips on whether the physical book or e-book is recommended, and a suggested tea pairing for each. Enjoy.
Tristan Gooley, a.k.a. The Natural Navigator, is one of my top three favorite authors. This book is exactly what the title says: It literally teaches you how to read water. Learn what different types of waves mean, how to forecast weather, and how even the reflection of light can reveal what’s beneath. From humble puddles to rivers to the big, open ocean, everything is discussed here in lovely prose. This book works well in both print and digital editions. Note that the hardcover edition pictured here does have a few glossy pictures inside. His other books are wonderful as well and can be found on The Natural Navigator website.
Best Places to Read:On the ocean, by a lake, or near a river. Imagine you’re out in the Atlantic, sailing from the UK to Iceland.
Few authors have the ability to draw huge in-person crowds like Robert Macfarlane. Now practically a celebrity in the nature writing genre, he got his start with this book: Mountains of the Mind. Just as I like to say I’m “from the mountains,” Macfarlane writes about his own “forays into wild, high landscapes,” and combines those with a fascinating history of mountains’ impact on the human psyche. This book works well in the e-book edition so it can be easily transported and read outside, if you’re not married to paper versions in general. It has some black and white photographs that view fine in the e-book as well. All his books are treasures, and I detail two more of them below. Note that Macfarlane doesn’t have his own website, but a quick google will bring up all his books, which have been published by a variety of different publishers.
Best Places to Read: On or near mountains, or with mountains in your distant view. Imagine you’re in the Cascades of America’s Pacific Northwest.
If you’re in the mood for something mysterious with perhaps a bit of Gothic vibe, Robert Macfarlane will take you through the deep holloways (a “hollow-way” is a tunnel formed by trees and erosion) of England, formed over centuries and millennia, some dating as far back as the Iron Age. This is a quick read that includes some shadowy poetry and swarthy black-and-white pictures, which look just as spooky in the e-book as the hardcover.
Best places to read: The forest, the subway, or a cemetery. Imagine you’re deep among unknown, small roads in some backwoods of England.
I have a signed copy of this one—Robert Macfarlane’s latest release—that I scored after getting to meet him at his packed book release event in Seattle last month. There must have been several hundred people there. It seemed like half of Seattle poured in to get their signed copy and meet one of our planet’s most-revered nature writers. Macfarlane was just awarded the 2025 Thoreau Prize for Literary Excellence in Nature Writing last month as well. Starting with an introduction titled “Anima,” Macfarlane takes the reader on a journey of both philosophy and travel, profiling rivers in Ecuador, India, and Canada, and exploring their souls and fates. Although I’m proud to own this special signed hardcover edition, the e-book of this is also just fine. Stay tuned for future titles by Robert Macfarlane as well. I’m convinced anything he writes will be outstanding.
Best Places to Read: By or on a river, or with a river in view. Imagine you’re floating along the Mississippi river, streaming through time as well as space.
Imagine setting off on an epic backpacking trip, bringing artists’ supplies, and stopping at whim to paint interesting tiny things you see along the way … That’s exactly what author Rosalie Haizlett did, and the result is this lovely book. She strikes an amazing balance of creating a book that has bright appeal to both adults and children, comprised of research, personal trip notes, and charming watercolor illustrations. This is one book you really want the hardcover edition of, and currently it’s only sold as such.
Best Places to Read: Somewhere out in nature near an ecosystem boundary, where there are mountains as well as lowlands nearby. Imagine you’re in the Appalachians of West Virginia, in the middle of nowhere.
Quite simply, I think Helen Thayer is one of the greatest women explorers of our time. She has walked across the Sahara, Gobi, and Death Valley deserts, kayaked the entire length of the Amazon river, lived with wolves, climbed some of the world’s highest mountains, and, in this book, skis to the magnetic north pole alone, with only her dog to help alert her for polar bears. This official National Geographic Explorer writes of her journey to the magnetic north pole (and back!) in this real-life explorer thriller. She survives polar bear stalkings and forms a close bond with her brave dog Charlie in this harsh tale of the reality of doing things no one else has ever done before. This book has some compelling black and white photos that show well in the e-book as well the paperback.
Best Places to Read: Somewhere cold, with a blanket. Turn up the AC and imagine you’re in the arctic.
This book is famous throughout Alaska, and you’d be hard-pressed to find an Alaskan who hasn’t heard of it, and most have read it. “An Alaskan Legend of Betrayal, Courage, and Survival,” this story by Velma Wallis is a retelling of an Athabascan Alaska Native legend, telling how two old women who were abandoned by their tribe not only survived, but … (I don’t want to spoil the story!) This is a must-read if you’re interested in Indigenous or arctic culture, and is a wonderful lesson about the value of elders as well. This is one book that would be excellent as an audiobook. The original legend was passed down orally.
Best Places to Read/Listen: Somewhere you can see elderly people, perhaps a retirement community or local garden. Imagine you’re out in the wild somewhere that is foreign to you, and the elders might have knowledge to pass on.
This book has wonderful epigraphs and structure, as well as authentic content. There are other arctic survival-type books, but none of them quite capture the reality of a tough expedition combined with real research, news articles, and journal entries. This is the story of a young Iñupiaq woman just trying to make some money by signing on as a seamstress for an expedition, who ends up being the sole survivor. This is a bit heavier, but very engrossing, read. There are photos that are best viewed in one of the physical editions. I haven’t seen the hardcover in person, but the paperback contains photos on special, glossy photo paper.
Best Places to Read: Somewhere you can be alone and totally absorbed in the book. Imagine you’re in a remote cabin somewhere, and no one knows where you are.
A collection of classic Indigenous lore, mostly from Washington and Oregon, including creation stories, animal stories, and stories that pass on values. There are many different editions of this book, but the e-book is clear with good pictures. This would also be a wonderful audiobook, but is not currently available as such as of this writing.
Best Places to Read: In or around an Indigenous community center or museum, such as Daybreak Star in Seattle, or the University of British Columbia Museum of Anthropology in Vancouver. Imagine you’re sitting in a quiet corner, and an elder sees the book you’re reading, stops, and tells you a story.
This is an older book—pictured above is my signed first edition hardcover from 1966—that details daily life of the Inupiat people of Alaska in the early half of the twentieth century, when many more Inupiat traditions than today were still practiced. It gives a glimpse into Indigenous Alaskan customs from a kind outsider’s point of view. The author, Claire Fejes, lived in villages there for a couple years and wrote about the people and customs. Some of the details strike home for me, like reading about how she would play pinochle with the villagers, which was also the most common card game I played with my family growing up. This book is only available in physical editions, and I recommend getting an older, used edition for the charm.
Best Places to Read: This is a good book to read casually on the sofa with family around. Bring this one home for holiday reading and discuss various tidbits with others in the room.
Read about the fascinating uses of masks by my people, the Yupik of Alaska. This book draws on the remembrances of elders born in the early 1900s and is a treasure trove of traditions and values.
Best Places to Read: This read invites reflection and is best read alone somewhere quiet. Somewhere in your home that has artwork helps to prompt thoughts.
This Indigenous classic is on almost every Indigenous reading list. It won several awards, and although it’s in the young adult category, it’s a fun read for older adults as well. It reminds me a bit of an Indigenous version of the Little House on the Prairie series, which personally I still enjoy.
Best Places to Read: This is an easy read that can be enjoyed just about anywhere. Bring it on your commute, on vacation, or home for the holidays.
This is the definitive, and enjoyable, reference guide to learn about Navajo (Diné) sandpaintings. Another part of my cultural heritage, I appreciate that Diné traditions are still strong throughout much of the Southwest. This is a slim book with many photos and works well as a coffee table book and a craft guide. It’s only available in paperback, which works well since this is one you really want to be able to look at the pictures in a physical edition.
Best Places to Read: At your project table at home, where you can start making your own sandpainting after reading it.
This is a large, museum-type book that deserves a hardcover. Full of color photos of Inuit and Inupiat carvings, this book discusses the traditional legends of the Inuit and Inupiat people, and the meanings behind various carvings. It makes an intriguing coffee table book, and is best read piece by piece, to enjoy and contemplate the discussion of the artworks.
Best Places to Read: Your coffee table, when you need an art-viewing break, or perhaps a cabin if you want to sit, do some serious study of it, and maybe do some carving of your own.
This magnificent work of art is a collector’s item. With a sewn binding and elegant Japanese artwork with each poem, this haiku collection is a beauty just to gaze at. Add in the poetry, and you’ll find yourself reading this every day. This book is rightly only available as a hardcover.
Best Places to Read: This high-quality book shouldn’t be damaged by transporting it around. This is best read at home, with clean hands (no snacking with this one) and natural light to appreciate the artwork.
A collection of poems from around the world on full-page National Geographic color photographs, this beauty can be enjoyed by the whole family, kids and adults alike. I often open it up to a random page, read a few poems at a time, and gaze at the photos. With all the high-color photographs, it’s only available as a hardcover.
Best Places to Read: This is a larger, heavier book, so is best read at home. It’s pleasant both alone or with family and friends. Try leaving it open to a favorite poem when you’re expecting a visitor.
Featured Book: Native Plant Stories by Joseph Bruchac
From the origin of cedar baskets to why evergreens stay green, this set of stories from eight different Native American tribes explain plants’ connection to humans and our mythology. It’s easy to read one story at a time, or read the whole book in one sitting on a quite afternoon. Illustrated with light sketches on many pages, it’s a read for the curious mind.
Best Places to Read: At the edge of a forest, by a meadow or lake. Imagine you’ve gone back in time and need to learn to use the plants in your environment not only survive, but make a comfortable life for yourself.
Ana Mourant (she/her) is an editorial intern for Sundress Publications and a recent graduate of the University of Washington’s editing program. She holds a Certificate in Editing as well as a Certificate in Storytelling and Content Strategy, and a BA in English Language and Literature, with a minor in Professional Writing. Ana conducts manuscript evaluations, developmental edits, structural edits, line edits, copyedits, proofreads, and beta reads, as well as authenticity and sensitivity readings for Indigenous Peoples content. Ana loves nature writing and Indigenous cultures, and, when she’s not working, is often out in the wilderness tracking animals, Nordic skiing, or just enjoying nature.
On my sixth, Barney the Dinosaur-themed birthday party in our small, but festive, house in Damascus, a close friend of mine named Sarah gifted me my first ever English book— every six-year-old’s dream. A fairytale book for every day of the year that her mom had probably picked out, it had a light pink hardcover filled with knights, princesses, dragons, and castles. As a little girl who just wanted some Barbie’s and Build-A-Bears, I was a little disappointed by such an underwhelming, educational present. But now, almost 16 years later, that gift is the only one I remember and the one I am most grateful for.
My traditional Korean father was always busy when we lived in Syria: he constantly had to travel to Asia for his fabric business, so he would usually be gone for three to four weeks at a time. Yet he never missed any of my birthdays, and my sixth was no exception. We spent, without a doubt and without any excuses, every day from my sixth to seventh birthday reading a fairytale out of Sarah’s book. Even though each story was relatively short and simple (almost half a page), it took me hours to read because my English vocabulary had not yet been developed. With the help of my father, I learnt a lot of big words in 2008 like “immediately”, “specifically,” and “nonetheless,” just to name a few. From that year onward, I picked up English much more easily than my Syrian peers.
Because of Bashar Al-Assad’s dictatorship and the war in 2011, my family and I were forced to relocate to Cairo for two years before moving again to Jeddah in 2014. In Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, as a confused and angsty teenager, my love for books really grew and I was able to find what I gravitated toward as a reader and writer. I loved read anything and everything. Even more than that, I loved talking and arguing about anything and everything. I would spend lunch time in my social studies teacher’s room (thanks Mr. Daniel) with my three best friends talking to him about the world, books, the school system, and anything that came to mind. My inquisitive and curious quality that was fostered in that classroom has been a core part of me as an adult. I was devastated to have to say goodbye to him in 2017.
In high school, my father advised me to begin reading Camus, Sartre, Dostoevsky, and Kierkegaard, sparking my love for literature and philosophy. These authors inspired me to write more, and I began exploring my creative and artistic side, joining art classes, choir, and even picking up where I left off with playing piano. I was able to truly discover my two passions, literature and music, and chose to pursue them at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. I am grateful for the opportunity to do what I love at Sundress Publications, and I am excited about what life has to offer me.
Noor Chang is a writer and aspiring editor with a rich, multicultural background. Half-Syrian and half-Korean, she spent most of her life in the Middle East, specifically Syria, Egypt, and the United Arab Emirates before moving to Knoxville, Tennessee, to pursue higher education. She is a student at the University of Tennessee, double majoring in English Literature and Jazz Studies. Noor’s diverse upbringing has shaped her perspective and fueled her passion for storytelling, leading her to explore a variety of creative avenues, including writing, music, and cultural exploration. An avid pianist, Noor enjoys playing music with friends and immersing herself in different genres. Her love for travel allows her to experience new cultures and she hopes to continue traveling for the rest of her life. In her free time, Noor is often found with a good book, making music, or working out to stay active and grounded.
When I first moved to the United States four years ago, I took a carry-on bag filled with books I was desperately worried about creasing and breaking. Out of all of my Korean, Arabic, and English books, these were the chosen ones—the books my mother and father were willing to give up from their long-inherited lineage of novels, comics, and short stories. In addition to the select books that were lugged across the Atlantic Ocean, my current bookshelf is an accumulation of classic literature and music books that I have collected during my time at the University of Tennessee pursuing my English and Jazz majors.
Every major classic literature book pertaining to my literature degree is present: the Complete Jane Austen Novels for my 1800s British Lit class, Tolstoy’s War and Peace and Anna Karenina for my Russian Lit class, a collection of Shakespeare’s plays for my 1600s Lit class, and finally a collection of Hemingway, Steinbeck, and Baldwin for the best class I have ever taken, Modern American Novel with Dr. Jennings. Additionally, on my bedside table (not pictured), there is a collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories and poems that I read before bed. Equally as enthralling as my classic literature collection, I have a decent-sized amount of philosophy books, specifically Camus, Sartre, Kierkegaard, and Dostoevsky.
I feel strangely sentimental toward my books, but I wouldn’t say I’m attached to them. I feel as though, much like the people in my life who have come and gone, the books in my life have never been continuously present—I don’t remember the oldest book I own or the first book I was ever given. I have never been able to have a collection as revered as my parents’ bookshelf back at home and I can’t imagine I ever will. Half of my collection tends to be sitting in different tote bags, backpacks, luggage, or even the back seats of my car.
As organized and neat as I am, I tend to scribble on pages of my books: annotations, markings, stickers, notes, coffee stains, bleeding pens, pressed flowers and foliage—anything you can think of is probably in a book somewhere on my small shelf. Every book I own is heavily used but always bought new in the hopes of making it feel like my own. I hold each book I was ever gifted really close to my heart, making sure to never lose it.
Having a rich cultural background with roots in Syria and South Korea, Noor Chang has lived in Damascus, Cairo, Jeddah, Dubai, and Knoxville, making her a citizen of the world. Chang’s unique perspective growing up as a foreigner under Bashar Al-Assad’s dictatorship in the midst of the Arab Spring grants her a nuanced political and cultural understanding of the Middle East that fuels her passion for journalism, traveling, and creativity. Chang is completing her final year at the University of Tennessee as a jazz pianist and an English Literature major. Her experience includes scholarly research, teaching, freelance writing, and performing.
In her debut poetry collection, I Feel Fine (Switchback Books 2023), Olivia Muenz works in a space between lyric poetry and memoir, chronicling an intimate experience and understanding of neurodivergence, disability, and othering from the world. Muenz began her work on this poetry collection following several months of being bedridden. Her writing reflects this experience via the close and contained style of it, with poems being constructed in stark fragments of text that enmesh the reader in a rhythm of thought that tracks throughout the collection. Within these poems, the reader begins to look at the world from the outside-in, contained within the staccato lyricism of Muenz’s lyricism.
Muenz’s poems play with both blunt affirmations of presence while in the following breath questioning if that presence is real, mirroring the way that disability and neurodivergence can lead to experiences of challenged identity, and societal dismissal. The four sections of this poetry collection illustrate this undulation between identity and othering, titled as “I’m here,” “But not,” “Or am I,” “Let’s see.” The first section of the collection begins each poem with an affirmation of place, before unfolding into fragmented wonderings:
“Here is the world. We are in this together. The body pulls. In
toward itself and toward all of us. That is all we need. Am I
doing this right. Where was I again.” (Muenz 5)
The way in which the writing spirals around itself, struggling for affirmation of place and presence even as it tries to convince itself of presence, draws the reader into the gauzy folds of the persona’s mind in these poems. When Muenz addresses a “we” or “you,” it’s possible she could be addressing the reader, wrapping them closer into this contained world; or, she could be addressing the relationship between the self, the body, and the mind, how within the experience of disability and neurodivergence, this relationship can become a tedious and exhausting dance in a world that demands conformity. Muenz writes: “I pump myself one-handed. I use all my weight. I am so / tired. The whole world is a mirage. Where does this thing end” (21). The wondering about endings and boundaries also speaks to the blurring in addressing “we” and “you,” as the reader becomes entangled with the persona of these poems, drawn further in to these meditations on the self and identity.
Punctuation is deconstructed and reimagined in a way that challenges expectations and lends to the fragmentary quality of the collection. With sentences that stop and start unexpectedly, Muenz creates a web of new meanings for otherwise simple phrases. In this way, the feeling of alienation or othering from the normative world is made richer and almost palpable in the poems of this collection:
“But I am the Big Normate. I am fitting in. Fine I am. Up to my
ears in normal. I am business. As usual. I am nothing. To see here.” (Muenz 27)
Almost mantra-like in this fragment’s insistence on conformity, the fragmentary nature of the sentences challenges the very conformity that we are trying to be convinced of. This creates a sense of frustration that anyone who identifies as neurodivergent or otherly-abled can understand, navigating a world that often demands things they cannot perform, while also invalidating and disappearing their experiences. Indeed, Muenz touches on this frustration with near breath-taking clarity:
“Should I get
It checked out. Should I bring it up again. The no ones aren’t
listening. I can’t make it. Louder in here. It is hurting all over.” (28)
With simple stark phrasing such as this, Muenz captures the pain and subsequent fatigue of alienation with a crystalline precision, leaving an ache in the reader’s chest, and a deep recognition for those who understand what it means to be othered in a society that demands conformity and productivity.
The final section of the collection pushes back against the othering and tenuous identity contained within the first sections, calling for a claiming of presence and space even amidst the fragmented pain. Indeed, if the collection is read as a conversation between the self, the mind, and the body, this last section reads as a homecoming to all three. Each poem begins with “let’s,” both a suggestion and an imperative to rejoin something, or someone:
“Let’s give it some room. To breathe. It’s soaking up fine. It’s
taking the coarsest course. Bring me on home. I won’t stop
at third.” (Muenz 56)
Through struggling to conform to a society that is all but inhabitable for those who do not fit the narrow definition of normal, Muenz ultimately concludes with a renunciation of that very society. She instead turns toward a radical redefinition of identity, and a claiming of new space and presence that affirms the experience of neurodivergence and disability. Muenz’s poems bear witness to the pain, the beauty, and even the mundanity of a life lived within and between these identities.
Addie Dodge is a student at Colorado College pursuing a B.A. in psychology with a minor in English. She is a writer currently working as an editor for her college’s literary magazine, Cipher, and is also a clinical intern at a domestic violence shelter in Colorado. She fills her free time with hiking in the mountains and lots of reading.
