Imitation Crab by Katie Vagnino

Imitation Crab as a first collection showcases the skill of an emerging poet who understands how to write formal verse that feels free of constraint; understands the necessity for play even in poems that address the most serious aspects of the human condition; and understands how to straddle narrative and lyric in poems that are both vivid with imagery and accessible to the heart. She takes us to Mississippi and Coney Island, weaves us through May Poles and used car lots, reminds us how relationships are sometimes all underbelly, sometimes pure radiance. Vagnino is a poet to pay attention to, one who chronicles the ways we meet and break apart and what energy is generated by those kinetics.

–Sonia Greenfield, author of Letdown

Imitation Crab, Katie Vagnino’s shimmering debut collection, fairly overflows with deft formal exploration, mordant wit (an adult’s-eye view of life’s manifold weirdnesses) and lyrical praise for the sensual world and its pleasures. Imitation Crab nails the big subjects, of course—the past, family, relationships, sex, all framed in seemingly effortless formal variety—all the while circling around to the unifying subject of the title poem—the question of authenticity, a commodity grown precious in scarcity. Vagnino knows the real deal when she sees it, and she knows how to write about it, too—whether it’s the tattooed neck of the meathead in “Dear Meathead” or the 100% authentic fakery of a finely honed spam email, as found in “Junk Mail Ghazal.” Big subjects generate big questions, too—we’re asked in “Imitation Crab,” With practice, you can tell the real from the fake/but unless you’re the crab, what difference does it make? All the difference, Vagnino reminds us—in the current moment especially, all the difference in the world.

–Jon Loomis, author of The Mansion of Happiness

Imitation Crab reminds me of watching figure skating: what feels like effortless flight reflects rigorous attention to form, timing, and the energetic potential of the smallest movements. In these kinetic, meticulously-crafted verses, Vagnino does more than astonish readers with her virtuosity. She laces up our skates and launches us into the air. Vagnino loans us her strength and vision and skill so that we, too, can ditch gravity. Expect to laugh, spin and fly “effortless as a daffodil” through these poems.

–Emily Anderson, author of Little: Novels, Fifteen and Change and The Water Year