Outdoor writer Sage Marshall's debut poetry collection Echolocation weaves the landscapes and ecologies of the American West against themes of violence, adolescence, and beauty. This critical yet compassionate examination of the brutality of boyhood and popular conceptions of masculinity is infused with a deep attunement to the natural world, offering moments of clarity and grace amidst the reality of violence and pain.
"In this series, the body and the landscape are one. The night as well as our bodies are bruised; the fire on the hillside, which is watched like a drive-in movie, ends with ash in our mouths; the forgiveness we have swallowed turns to swallows bursting from deep thickets of grass. This is poetic echolocation. This is a sacred call and response between a writer and all the environments he inhabits."
—Alexander Shalom Joseph, author of Our Mother, The Mountain and Broken Light in a Burning Wood
"In Echolocation, Sage Marshall has crafted poems of brilliant reflection, finding his way through questions we all must ask of coming into our own, even when answers can be held but briefly. Marshall’s poems are vulnerable and inspired, acutely aware of both the beauty we inherit of the world and the pain we inflict on ourselves and others. This is a remarkable debut."
—Erin Block, Author of How You Walk Alone in the Dark, winner of the Colorado Book Award
"Tough and bloody, full of the grit of real life, of lives lived close to the land, lives lived in struggle and brotherly competition and the great stakes of father and son relationships, Sage Marshall’s debut, Echolocation, still manages to be a book of deep tenderness, of love and honor and the wisdom of hard years and the natural world."
—Joe Wilkins, author of Thieve and When We Were Birds, winner of the of the Oregon Book Award
"Sage Marshall’s Echolocation is built by poems of the body and the intensely physical world. For Marshall, everything is supported by blood. From the obvious hunting and fishing to the locker rooms after hockey practice to hiking mountains to walking home from the bar late at night. But even within the momentum of this collection, which often feels as if it’s careening toward collision, Marshall delivers moments without violence where the quiet offers a space to glimpse the relief when a cheek goes unpunched or a duck makes it to the horizon unscathed: “I have fired before / and will again / but today / I stole nothing from the sky.”
—Noah Davis, winner of the Wheelbarrow Books Poetry Prize and author of Of This River
"To read Sage’s poetry is to step into a beautiful place of “dank twisted love” that deftly navigates both our natural world and the one of “boys learning to collide.” These poems teach us how to live in a violent world with grace, compassion, and curiosity."
—Michael Garrigan, author of River, Amen and Robbing the Pillars
"Sage has captured snapshots of nature’s splendor from an adventurous, contemplative life spent outdoors. Observations and revelations made while navigating from boyhood to manhood with grit and grace. Echolocation reads like a series of beautifully written dispatches from the field."
—Steven Law, host of Poetry Snaps! and author of Polished.
"The poems that move me often share a few common traits: They challenge my thinking. They let strong words breathe and flex. They put me in nature. More than a few of the poems in this collection from Sage Marshall—a caring, careful writer and observer of nature—moved me to no end."
—Colin Kearns, Editor in Chief of Field & Stream
"Tough and bloody, full of the grit of real life, of lives lived close to the land, lives lived in struggle and brotherly competition and the great stakes of father and son relationships, Sage Marshall’s debut, Echolocation, still manages to be a book of deep tenderness, of love and honor and the wisdom of hard years and the natural world."
—Joe Wilkins, author of Thieve and When We Were Birds, winner of the of the Oregon Book Award
“‘Smoke seeps from the breach,’ from the just-fired shotgun of a quail hunter late in Sage Marshall’s stirring debut. Here and throughout, with unflinching self-examination, the poet endeavors to grasp the ghost-like roots of his own brokenness and violence. Yeats once said that arguments with others amount to rhetoric but quarrels with the self indeed make poetry — quite decidedly this brave, searing collection resides in the wild country of the latter.”
Sage Marshall is a poet, essayist, and outdoors journalist from southwest Colorado. He has lived across the U.S. and currently resides in Western Montana, where he explores the rivers and mountains around Missoula with his partner Bela and their adopted bird dog Gunney. He’s a student of many outdoor pursuits, from skiing and backpacking to fly fishing and duck hunting. Marshall is a contributing writer and former editor of Field & Stream. His creative work has been featured in publications such as The Missouri Review, Sport Literate, swamp pink, and elsewhere. Echolocation is his debut poetry collection. Check out more of his writing and drop him a line at www.SageMarshall.com.
A tender examination of the Western American landscape, violence, fatherhood and brotherhood, hunting, fishing, love and fighting between boys, and the vulnerable parts of our ourselves we struggle to admit. Marshall’s attention to sound, sparse but lush imagery, and thoughtful line breaks make for a contemplative read, like breathwork when meditating outdoors. “I have fired before / and will again / but today / I stole nothing from the sky.” To be read outdoors, preferably.
Favorite poems include Anesthesia, How to Live, Monday Night Dive Bar Ode, The Cirque, Autumnul, This Bloody Voyage, and Reunion. Excited to read more from Marshall’s outdoorsman point of view in the future.
I haven’t read poetry in a long while. Early in my reading of this book, I thought it wasn’t that great. I received the wise advice from my daughter to “Let it wash over you” as I read. I got better at it and surprise, the poems got better. It was me all along. Good book. Interesting subjects. Now I wish it was longer.