"Must-Read Poetry: October 2019" by Nick Ripatrazone, The Millions “Best Books of 2019,” Book Riot This astonishing, self-assured debut leads us on an exploration to the stars and back, begging us to reconsider our boundaries of self, time, space, and knowledge. The speaker writes, “…the universe/is an arrow/without end/and it asks only one question;/How dare you?” Zig-zagging through the realms of nature, science, and religion, one finds St. Francis sighing in the corner of a studio apartment, tides that are caused by millions of oysters “gasping in unison,” an ark filled with women in its stables, and prayers that reach God fastest by balloon. There’s pathos: “When my new lover tells me I’m correct to love him, I/realize the sound isn’t metal at all. It’s not the coins rattling/ on concrete, but the fingers scraping to pick them up.” And humor, too: “…even the sun’s been sighing Not you again/when it sees me.” After reading this far-reaching, inventive collection, we too are startled, space struck, our pockets gloriously “filled with space dust.” "Online, month by month, I watched it happen: a new genre of poem was emerging, but I had no clue who was responsible. These brainy poems didn't wait to spout off trivia, historical and scientific—'Pavlov Was the Son of a Priest' (a characteristically quotable title) recalls that 'the moon smells like spent gunpowder,' then divulges some smoldering self-knowledge: 'I'm sorry/I couldn't hide my joy when you said lonely .' . . . [T]hese poems were fluent in funniness, retweetably jokey: 'I'm//the vice president of panic, and the president is/missing.' But once the play subsided, you found yourself moved—unaccountably, almost, until you discovered, reading back up the poem, that even the zaniest elements had several parts to play. What looked like a genre, I soon realized, was all the handiwork of one poet. Their name is Paige Lewis. . . . Don't doubt them." -—Christopher Spaide, Poetry The Millions , "Must-Read Poetry: October 2019" Entropy , “Best of 2019: Poetry & Poetry Collections” Book Riot , “Best Books of 2019” The Casual Optimist , "Notable Book Covers of 2019” Paperback Paris , "Paperback Paris Staff's 60 Best Books of 2019" Bookshop , ”Jonny Sun’s Favorite Books” Neon Pajamas , "Favorite Authors (and Their Books) That I Read in 2020" Book Riot , "Books to Pair with Harry Styles's Harry's House" Autostraddle , "25 Lines of Poetry I Think About Once a Day" "'Give me more time// and I’m sure I could make this funny,' Lewis states in this vibrant debut collection, an exquisite feast of the brutal and the irreverent presented by a modern voice." ― Publishers Weekly , starred review "The playfulness and creative flourishes showcase the poet having the time of their life in crafting this debut." ― Foreword Reviews "[W]ise and witty." ― Poetry Foundation "Online, month by month, I watched it happen: a new genre of poem was emerging, but I had no clue who was responsible. These brainy poems didn't wait to spout off trivia, historical and scientific―'Pavlov Was the Son of a Priest' (a characteristically quotable title) recalls that 'the moon smells like spent gunpowder,' then divulges some smoldering self-knowledge: 'I'm sorry/I couldn't hide my joy when you said lonely .' . . . [T]hese poems were fluent in funniness, retweetably jokey: 'I'm//the vice president of panic, and the president is/missing.' But once the play subsided, you found yourself moved―unaccountably, almost, until you discovered, reading back up the poem, that even the zaniest elements had several parts to play. What looked like a genre, I soon realized, was all the handiwork of one poet. Their name is Paige Lewis. . . . Don't doubt them." ―Christopher Spaide, Poetry "[ Space Struck ] pulses with light and shimmers with hope. It also expands our sense of what a poem can do/how a poem can move and the many ways a poem can occupy as well as transform a page. ...[it] is the poetry equivalent of camping out in your own backyard, gazing up at the sky from your sleeping bag (Lewis: 'the gemmy starlight / the click click click // of the universe expanding') as your elbows splay wide in the grass (Lewis, again: 'the moon smells like spent gunpowder'). You aren’t going to look at the sky, or the world, the same way again after." ―"A Quintessential Quarantine Read: Paige Lewis's SPACE STRUCK" by Julie Marie Wade, Rumpus "[C]olour and sensation, a kind of lightness that is saturated and warm and rewarding. This is what Space Struck feels like. . . . [It] is a collection I can only describe as existence in pure form, a warm, pulsing creation that wants to sweep you up and carry you away, a call I’d willingly surrender to once again." ―"Pure Sensation: On Paige Lewis's Space Struck " by Margaryta Golovchenko, Medium “ Space Struck . . . gives the reader various gifts throughout it. And what makes the giving so tender is in the book’s pat