YR DEAD

In the first work of fiction from a poet who illuminates the queer and Jewish experiences, life flashes before the eyes of a nonbinary person who’s lit themself on fire.

It’s not a spoiler to say that poet Sax’s debut novel centers on an act of self-immolation. The novel begins with short descriptions of three smaller encounters with fire, three different burns, labeled first through third degree: a painful childhood accident at the stove, adolescent smoking, a ritual gone horribly wrong. The final section, which comprises the bulk of the novel, is the final degree of burn: immolation. In vignettes that transmute experience in associative fits and starts, as one might cycle through visions at the end of one’s life, the narrator, Ezra, reflects on the world they inhabit as a queer Jewish person: a world that shifts mainly between Yiddishland and a gritty, sometimes ugly, but enchanting New York City. The fragments bounce back and forth in time, as Ezra inhabits the lives of their ancestors in the old country, the moment of their conception, their ambulance trip after their final act, and everywhere in between. Ezra’s musings span not just time and space but a range of topics—from Jewish ancestral legacies to technology and the internet to gender identity to parent-child relationships—and draw upon a deep well of references. The novel is replete with vivid images, the strength of which is rare outside of poetry. Sax has produced a work that is meditative, deeply humane, and profoundly original. Less plot-driven than language-, emotion-, and image-driven—a poet’s novel through and through—the result is a searingly beautiful and devastating foray into fiction.

A poetic depiction of pain, queerness, Jewishness, and what it is to live.