Reviewed by Ann Chinnis
Of a Certain Age
by Tricia Gates Brown
Fernwood Press
July 2026, 90 pages, ISBN-13: 978-1594982323
“Of a certain age,” the phrase goes—no longer young, not yet old. The term suggests a liminal place, or in Brown’s case, a series of critical thresholds in the life of a woman. From a structural perspective, she creates mostly chronological sections that function as six bridges from girlhood to death. In “Summer at Twelve,” Brown shows us a young girl on the verge of sexuality, eying the Joys Of Sex at a Bookstore, enjoying ice cream with gumballs and biking home, aglow with Coppertone. The poem has an immediacy and directness of language that give the speaker authority and authenticity. Her yearning is intimate and satisfying for the reader: Our Coppertone legs/ glistened like mirages,/ flashed the unwitting invitations of angels,/ goddess bound. The words “goddess bound” seem critical to Brown’s world view, as she explores with deep tenderness what is sacred in the world and the people who surround her. One bridge that Brown asks us to cross with her is that of “pre-middle”—calling it life’s showdown with illusion. She describes pre-middle as a time when some doors have closed, when some dreams will fall by the way-side. She shares with us her discovery of how to make it through: It is seeing that the ground/ we stand on is really nothing but grace. “Of a Certain Age” is infused with grace which shoes up as compassion, good-will and flexibility of thought and emotion.
In “Baptism,” she skillfully wrestles with her inheritance of religion-contrasting a baptism to teens rollicked in the weeds/ and got high. This tension around religion continues in “Leaving Home” in which the Brown writes, Seventeen years and a dorm’s worth/ of gear like dynamite shoved/into the Escort propelling me far//far from your Christian/voter guides, your sighs/ and misunderstanding love. A striking feature of the liminal space that Brown creates is that she inhabits it to examines her faith with curiosity and an open mind. This willingness to explore what she does not yet understand is one of the most endearing qualities of the narrator. She is seeking, with a genuinely open-heart and a desire to love. The theme of love is beautifully announced in her prologue poem, “profligate.” Love/ that keeps knocking me down and pulling me up, that leaves me naked/and poor and always full.
Brown, “In Timing is Everything,” offers a meditation on loss as received in small gestures—a hand squeezed under the table, the ache of fingers. She is a keen observer of behavior and mannerism, and in the attending to the small, she pays homage to joy and loss. One of my favorite poems of the collection in “Skinny Dipping,” as it declares the poetic intentions of the writer. Stones like bleached whale backs/ ridges connecting woman- and girl-/hood. Brown confides that she is thoughtless of fishermen as she strips and dips into the lake. The poem concludes with Brown writing that the speaker is free of shed articles of shame. I found this poem emblematic of Brown’s mastery as a narrative poet and her gift for the lyric. She deftly marches us through a story while offering surprising images rendered with sonically striking words. The language is direct and unadorned, yet surprising. Conscious of oyster-/shell breasts, areolas like dried/ apricots, deep wake of sun-stained/ hips. Again, I experienced the poem as if a dear friend whispers secrets in my ear.
Brown’s reverence for the natural world is another unifying theme of this collection. In “Resilience” she speaks of carrying a table out back and noticing things. She is nourished in the noticing, and we are fed by the usual images she gifts to us. She attends to the world around her great love. Salmonberry, elder,/ the Sasquatch mittens of devils claw/ encroach on the patch around my house/then swallow it whole. Blackberries, pelicans, foxglove, fields patched in chartreuse are not ornamental but recurring structural elements that anchor Brown to the sacred, that feed her soul.
Bravery permeates her collection. She is willing to deal with very difficult material Another poem I admire greatly is “Your Death,” in which the speaker imagines how she will receive news of the death of her beloved: where will she be, who will tell her. The ending is devastating and full of love. the before and after always the same:/ you and me/ then you/ and me/ then only me. I had the experience of this poem bringing me full circle to the beginning of the collection—an invitation to read it yet another time, to discern even deeper layers of its wisdom and wonder.
About the reviewer: Ann Chinnis is the recipient of a Pushcart Prize, 2025 and the author of three poetry books: Poppet, My Poppet, I Can Catch Anything, and Love Song: Port & Starboard. Her work has been published in Sky Island Journal, River Heron Review, Gyroscope, Crab Creek Review, among others. She is a retired Emergency Physician and a leadership coach and lives with her wife in Virginia Beach, Virginia.