Jacob Alvarado

Laboni Islam, Light Years.

London: baseline press, 2022. $13.50.

A constellation of personal history, space and nature imagery, and familial tragedy, Laboni Islam’s chapbook debut Light Years is a wide-reaching exploration of grief, identity, and connection. Islam dedicates this chapbook “for my family, in memory of my father”, and while this sentiment permeates the collection (“…and this grief, lobed / like my lungs, like a fallen leaf. I miss the slow shuffle of your slippered feet.”), this collection is far from one-dimensional. Whether by reaching into her parents’ history in “LUNAR LANDING, 1966” (“My mother’s memories are bright crescents, waxing and waning, orbiting a centre that’s spinning on / its axis.), her own youth in “FIRST SHAKESPEARE CLASS, 9/11” (“My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, / Because it is an enemy to thee”) or into present day issues like the pandemic in “DISTANCING” (“…But people had simply gone inside their / concrete nests.“), Islam surrounds her grieving process with other subjects that augment her yearning for connection in a world where her father is no longer a touchstone. While all this subject-matter undoubtedly lends it an air of melancholy, Light Years doesn’t leave its readers in a place of sadness but rather acts as an illustration of how true acceptance involves learning how to accept and live with the pain that comes with loss. In Islam’s own words: “A leaf is falling, / but neither the tree nor the leaf let go.”

JACOB ALVARADO

is the editorial intern for The Ampersand Review of Writing & Publishing and a 4th-year student in the Creative Writing & Publishing program at Sheridan College. He lives and writes in Orangeville, Ontario.