In <i>Solar Perplexus</i>, Dean Young uses the surreal as the thread which weaves in and out of complications of existence. The result is a textured, honest work that grapples with what it means to love, lose, and hang in the afterward. Suddenly the boundaries of our everyday are shaken—and yet instead of being thrown off balance, our understanding is cracked open. Young holds us between un/reality, tracing the circle of life and death, and exposing the true closeness between extremes. It is this true intimacy that both unsettles and comforts. <i>Solar Perplexus</i> turns identity on its head as it questions self (against) control, with each eerily familiar moment of humor punctuated with an inevitable doubt.
"Dean Young challenges the reader to hang on as he jigs from one poetic style to another and sets a wondrous course across a Duchampian landscape."— Chicago Tribune "In Young's work, the big essential questions—mortality, identity, the meaning of life—aren't simply food for thought; they're grounds for entertainment."— The Sunday Star (Toronto)Dean Young escorts his transplanted heart into invigorating poetic territory that combines the joy of being alive with his signature mixture of surrealism, humor, and fast-cut imagery. A Pulitzer finalist known for his hard-won insights, NPR said it best when they observed that Young sees «even in the smallest things the heights of what we can be.» From «Harvest»: Bring me the high heart of a trapezist.If not, bring me the heart of a drunk monkso I may illuminate an ancient textin a language I can't understand.The brain too is blood, blood racing100 miles an hour on training wheelsso let me splash through a red puddle,let me kiss the face of a red puddle,let me write my crazed, extreme demandson the frost-cracked window of god's splitchest… Dean Young is the author of twelve books of poetry, including finalists for the Pulitzer Prize and Griffin Award. He teaches at the University of Texas and lives in Austin.
Young was very close to dying and received a heart transplant just after Fall Higher was published in hardcover late in 2010. His father died at 49 due to problems with his heart. NPR's «Morning Edition» did a beautiful story about Dean and his heart transplant, where he said, «I think that's one of the jobs of poets: They stare at their own death and through it they still see the world – the world of 10,000 things. Poetry is about time running out.» (This radio article, «The Heart of Dean Young's Poetry,» is archived at npr.org) Dean's new heart came from a fit 22-year-old. After the transplant, Dean commented on the new, and very robust, flow of blood to his brain. «He gave me a heart so I'm still alive....I'm sure I'm going to think about this person for the rest of my life.» Dean writes every day, and did so even when recovering from the transplant surgery at home in Texas. Dean Young favors using a 1955 Remington typewriter.