As cities get more and more crowded and rents move ever higher, sometimes there's only one thing to do—evacuate to more affordable areas. That's just what Owens did: dreaming of a place of her own, she left Vancouver for Edmonton, into a century-old saltbox house. "It surely would not, not now, or ever, let you down. It surely would not, not now (or never?) let you down." (loc. 72*)

I appreciate (and understand) poetry best when it is rooted in the concrete, and in many ways "Moving to Delilah" is the epitome of that—a hunt for roots, for permanence, for a foundation.

"Inside an empty cupboard we found the permit to build, its back scarred with tack marks, front bearing the contractor's name and a list of tasks to be checked off. None were. Or else the yellowed progression of time had swallowed the ticks that claimed the foundation (yes) had been finished or the frame (yes), the base (yes). We can see the evidence, the proof it was, yet the record is gone.

How much we rely
On the writing in the sand
Near a hungry sea." (loc. 170)

A mix of prose poetry and straight verse, "Moving to Delilah" chronicles those first years of home ownership and putting down roots, sometimes literally (gardening) and sometimes less so (digging into the history of the house and the land). It's an understated story—no big dramas, focused on rootedness rather than restlessness and permanence of place rather than more ephemeral emotions. A satisfying read.

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

*Quotes are from an ARC and may not be final.