Allow the Light - by Jack McCarthy (Paperback)

Book Synopsis

Jack McCarthy lived his life like an open mic. He invited everyone in, encouraged them to share their stories, gave them space for their experiences, and, most importantly, he listened. He listened when we thought no one would ever want to hear us. It didn't matter where he was, California, Boston, Seattle, Bellingham, Spain, New York; Jack could always create community. If you knew him, you know you were lucky to have crossed paths with this quick witted and often hilariously self deprecating Spoken Word master. If you knew him, then you know that when Jack wasn't listening, he was writing. When he passed away in January of 2013, he left behind an immense collection of unpublished work, work that no one has ever seen. It would be a shame to keep this work hidden away, because Jack wrote his work to be shared. To be heard. To be experienced.

Now, for the first time, the world will finally be able to read some of Jack McCarthy's unpublished poetry. Allow The Light follows the narrative line of McCarthy's life, from grief and sobriety, to fatherhood, marriage, and divorce. These poems navigate the discovery of new love after loss, the struggles of the working class, and the acceptance of your family's emotional inheritance. Interspersed throughout the collection are remembrances from some of the people that knew Jack's poetry best, writers like Taylor Mali, Ryler Dustin, Robert Lashley, and more.

Review Quotes

"Jack McCarthy could--and did, over and over--locate and celebrate the good. In people, in experience, and in community. I always return to his work the way I used to return to his arms, like someone who has stumbled into a 12-step meeting they didn't know they needed. Read on, and you will need it, too." -- Taylor Mali, author of What Learning Leaves and Late Father

"Jack McCarthy is one of the wonders of contemporary poetry. He writes--and often performs--dazzling narratives full of wit and humor, sadness and hard thinking." --
Stephen Dobyns

"McCarthy looks at life and still finds beauty; his affections are not just reserved for the glaringly lovely, but for what gets left behind in the face of such dazzle. 'The first robin of spring/is like the clicking of a tumbler/in some marvelously complex lock," -- Victor Infante, OC Weekly