John Hennessy's Exit Garden State never strays far from family life as it ranges from childhood in New Jersey's industrial corridor to mid-life in the woods of New England, from Rahway prison's sullen grey dome, Newark's steel flyway, to Lisbon's labyrinths and miradouros, from the smooth volcanic peaks of the Cyclades to his dead in Dublin. Keenly mindful of their ancestors and the immigrations that have brought them here, the speakers of these poems, their various personae, explore the knots of familial experience, what it's like to be both parent and child simultaneously, to be embraced by family as well as to lose it, to celebrate kinship and endure its sorrows and changes. Hennessy remains rooted in the propulsive energy of his lines, the clarity of his craft, while traversing emotional territory as broad as the book's geography.
