The Last Orgasm

If anyone reads this book, they will think they know what kind of person I am... It will make me appear to be the kind of person who is in the position to write about orgasms, who knows all about orgasms: their songs and dances and secret languages… Like her topic, Nin Andrews’ virtuosic collection is as equivocal as it is evanescent, with unpredictable gaps and surges. No poem/orgasm stands alone—the collection is richly (and hilariously) associational, mythically postmodern, a twinkling synaptic map of contemporary and historic poetic correlations. —Claire Bateman, Scape

In The Last Orgasm, Nin Andrews creates an indelible character: the orgasm, with a sensibility by turns light-hearted, witty, despondent and, finally, transcendent. In giving voice to the orgasm and with Nin, the writer, as her intimate and foil, these poems allow us entry into the female psyche at its most complex and vulnerable. With linguistic subtlety and sharp insight, they illuminate, yes, longing and desire, but also the creative impulse, as we age and are transformed by time. These are poems of deep intelligence and aching beauty. —Carol Moldaw, Beauty Refracted

I have long loved Nin Andrews’ poems—prose and lineated, alike—for their wit, intelligence, and heart, their mastery of image and tone, their insights into an array of subjects, including our culture’s disregard for women’s bodies and lives. Her latest collection, The Last Orgasm is no exception and a tour-de-force. In it, Andrews moves between the ordinary and profound, the spiritual and visceral, the real and absurd, never faltering. Her poems surprise, delight, enlighten, and sadden, often within the space of a few lines. While her homage to various poets plays in the background (and her engaging “Notes” provide the sources, in case we miss the echoes or wish to (re)read the tributary poems), The Last Orgasm is all Andrews. What’s more, it’s Andrews at what might be her very best, most virtuosic performance yet—though hopefully not her “last.” This is a collection not to miss. Shara McCallum, Madwoman

Of course, I would praise The Last Orgasm. And the first, second, middle, next, next to last. For the sake of everything true and holy (although Andrews would say there is nothing holy) please read this outrageous book! In these smart, raucous poems of one orgasm after another, Andrews climaxes at the pinnacle of social commentary—the G-spot of social change: the change being, give us more orgasms/the orgasm is dead. Indicting the writer, the book, the poetry mafia, and, of course, the orgasm, Andrews writes: When I was sixteen, I woke one night and saw Our Lady of the Orgasm singing. Read this book if you want to sing again. Jan Beatty, Jackknife: New and Selected Poems