In her fourth collection, celebrated poet and author Megan Merchant uses the natural world as her canvas, mapping the abstract shape of the American social consciousness onto a wintry landscape of marriage, motherhood, and grief.Suffused with autumnal decay and the silent promise of snow, Merchant's collection serves as a powerful distillation of the ageless themes of memory and loss.

From the international bestseller: an Afrikaner boy and his father navigate post-Apocalyptic South Africa—“reminiscent of The Stand and The Passage” (Stephen King). Nico Storm and his father, Willem, drive a truck filled with essential supplies through a desolate land. They are among the few in the world, as far as they know, to have survived a devastating virus that has swept over the planet. In this new reality, Nico realizes that his superb marksmanship and cool head mean he is destined to be his father’s protector, even though he is still only a boy. Willem Storm, though not a fighter, is a wise and compassionate man with a vision for a new community that survivors will rebuild from the ruins. And so Amanzi is founded, drawing Storm’s “homeless and tempest-tost”—starting with Melinda Swanevelder, whom they rescue from brutal thugs; Hennie Fly, with his vital Cessna plane; Beryl Fortuin and her ragtag group of orphans; and Domingo, the man with the tattooed hand. Then Sofia Bergman arrives, the most beautiful girl Nico has ever seen, who changes everything. As the community grows, so do the challenges they face—not just from the attacks of biker brigands, but also from within. Looking back later in life, Nico recounts the traumatic events that led to the greatest rupture of all—the murder of the person he loves most. “Compelling, action-packed and fraught with emotion . . . bears favourable comparison with landmarks of the genre such as Stephen King’s The Stand and Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. Simply stunning.” —John Coates, Express (UK) “Great stuff.” —Stephen King

In the hot Arizona desert of the late 1950s, Mike McGurk comes of age in one big, riotous gush. Trapped pumping gas at a desolate roadstop, he yearns for things he has never known: love, hope, and the soft, white calmness of snow. Mike's world is filled with a menagerie of quirky characters, who cope with the weight of their unfulfilled dreams with bravado, humor, and violence. Mike trades snappy insults with his macho father, Texaco Turk McGurk, a moustachioed amateur boxer and self-proclaimed war hero who is unable to talk about love. Mike lusts after Lily, his seductive, poem-writing cousin. He cowers before and then confronts the vicious Ramses, grandson of Mr. Sneezy, the wisecracking Apache. And he is rescued by his best friend, Bobo, who delivers him into the care of the loving and generous Mama and Papa Garcia. In Search of Snow is an explosive coming-of-age adventure, full of hilarious episodes and still, poignant moments. Like a blue-collar Don Quixote, Mike must blow up his windmills before he can set off to find the things he lacks, especially the snow that will temper the passion he has just set aflame.

In a prose form as startling as its content, ?"The Shutter of Snow"?portrays the post-partum psychosis of Marthe Gail, who after giving birth to her son, is committed to an insane asylum. Believing herself to be God, she maneuvers through an institutional world that is both sad and terrifying, echoing the worlds of?"One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"?and?"The Snake Pit." Based upon the author's own experience after the birth of her son in 1924, "The Shutter of Snow" retains all the energy it had when first published in 1930.

Hannah and Matthew eyed each other as children, fell in love as young adults, quit the deadened East and headed West to homestead on the prairie. There is a sod house. Crops, cows, children. A berdache (a North American Aboriginal male, either celibate or homosexual, who assumes an intermediate social role between that of men and women in Aboriginal society). Passion in furrows. Women in daylight and in the dark of night. There are three men and one woman. A man who loves Hannah and the Horizon. A man who loves horses and pregnant women. A young man who loves and hates in the same person. Seasoning Fever is Little House on the Prairie had it been written by Annie Proulx, Wallace Stegner or Cormac McCarthy. In limpid, dreamlike prose, Susan Kerslake serves up an epic myth of the West with perceptiveness both wise and innocent. All of life's elemental zest is here: deprivation and survival, love and lust, the magical and the mundane and the sometimes unbridgeable distance between male and female. No simple tale of prairie homesteading, this long-awaited novel imposes the ingenuous resource of a soaring poetic mind upon the grass ocean of an inscrutable land. If the measure of such fusion is an assessment of spirit, then the spirit of Seasoning Fever is original and triumphant.

"These poems know a great deal about beauty and violence: 'twenty years / was about as much good as / circling / a black eye'. Kylie Gellatly shows us what vividness is, how it lives in our shapes, our pain, our imaginary (and real) selves: 'man taken / to be a trench / that might have been a cannon ball'. This poetry composes musics with silences. It is both a song and whisper, an erasure and exhalation. It is both a journey across us, and inward: 'the ship was the rib of reason / [...] the ship was beginning to be an alarm / the ship was right there on the floor while this book was written.' Herein history is envious of a dreamscape. And yet: the dream aspires to be dailiness, and fears it. Which is to say: this is a book of fevers the likes of which you feel most familiar with, yet have not seen before. Recognize yourself in them." -Ilya Kaminsky, author of Deaf Republic "Musical and deeply felt, these poems-untitled and running wild-chase down the heart. No tangible space is without the immaterial here. The Elements are resilient, and I feel pushed and pulled by them. Gellatly's debut book is beautiful, haunted and mystical. Her poems are like 'the strange contrast between death and dawn, ' and 'the fool's divine spark / forever coming loose' in the reader's hands." -Bianca Stone, author of The Möbius Strip Club of Grief "In Kylie Gellatly's The Fever Poems, water is silk that rubs against the night. Events are figments of the speaker's imagination and graves shape time. Extremely contemporary in their fixation on illness, isolation, and anxiety, these poems spill down and across the page like slate off a cliffside. There is an unwavering generosity to the introspection of this speaker: through her eyes, floating ash becomes 'hundreds of baled papers, bent up like two bears dancing.' This is a collection that understands and beautifully, painfully relays that what we have-with each other, with the land-is 'the last of the last.'" -Taneum Bambrick, author of Vantage "'I was sore at heart, ' writes Kylie Gellatly in The Fever Poems, and the reader is invited into a sprawling, curious, visionary, deeply empathetic, epic debut. Her poems shine goldly in the space between elemental earth-salt, rock, wind, weather-and the human, conscious choice of living. With echoes of Jorie Graham and W. S. Merwin, Gellatly navigates the complexities of language, 'a pledge made / into paper / weathered / in our hands, ' 'choked with the monsters of parentheses'. This is a collection for our time of pandemic, uncertainty, and an urgent need for a revision of our relationship with the natural world-Gellatly recognizes the swinging pendulum of power between the earth's force and human interference, and, without castigation, illuminates us." -Jenny Molberg, author of Refusal "Kylie Gellatly's The Fever works like a ship, navigating the tempests of our fragile moment. The poems enact a wandering/wondering through fire and fog, investigating meaning through a naturalist's lens, balancing an elemental pull with the fierce heat of being human. This collection is an invitation to a sensorial meditation, one where fever is less a symptom of sickness than a door to discovery." -Erin Adair-Hodges, author of Let's All Die Happy