Books

Somerset is an elegy for the Kensington section of Philadelphia in which the author was raised. Using a variety of styles and forms, it remembers people and cultures struggling to survive in the aftermath of deindustrialization and, now, an opioid epidemic. It is also a study in how our past continually informs our present, how we never fully leave those places in which our younger selves were formed. Somerset bears witness to racism, poverty, violent crime, and drug use, but also finds forgiveness, thankfulness, and love.

 

Somerset

2019 Paterson Poetry Prize co-winner

“Donaghy writes brilliantly about growing up in a hard-scrabble neighborhood in Philadelphia, and explores complexities of love and sorrow, shame and gratitude.”
— 2019 Paterson Poetry Prize citation
Daniel Donaghy is a courageous, risk-taking poet; he’s a truth teller who draws an unflinching picture of life in a dying Philadelphia neighborhood after white flight and racial tensions escalate. He makes us feel his own humiliation and shame, a kind of shadow he carries with him even into adulthood and the suburban life he’s made for himself, his wife, and children. These are beautiful, tender, painful, unforgettable poems. I love them because they make me remember what it means to be human.
— Maria Mazziotti Gillan, American Book Award Winner
Somerset begins where “dome light leaks through tinted windows/thumping at intersections.” Lehigh Street, Kensington—Philly in the ‘80s, the El clacking and sparking overhead. Each intersection thereafter hopped up on its own electric energy: intersection of weed and wet, hooker and Strangler. The four-square intersections framing Needle Park. The fire-framed intersection of the Philly P.D. and the Africas. Intersection where a racist father rips a bike from a black kid and presents it to his son with pride. Yet dome light, streetlight, lamplight, sunlight—everywhere the light leaks through, falls on the indomitable mother, the pregnant wife, the wide-eyed wonderous daughters, friends here and in memory, glints off the windows of the Aramingo Diner, the old Starlite Ballroom, a gold crucifix around a neck. This collection is the one that Daniel Donaghy, Kenzo kid, has been writing toward his entire life, here the consummate formal craftsman of poem after candid, tough, unflinching poem. We can face it all and sometimes even face it down, they tell us; we can ‘rise/together, laughing, toward our evenings.’
— Steve Myers, Pushcart Prize-winning author of Memory's Dog, Work Site, and Last Look at Joburg
In Somerset, Daniel Donaghy has composed a page-turning, lyrical collection that provides a tragicomic reminiscence of Philadelphia. Donaghy is a master storyteller, and each poem provides a candid and at times touching snapshot of neighborhoods and families who fight and love at all cost. Poems like “What I Did While Wayne Called the Cops” and “The Background Noise I’ve Heard All My Life” are confessional while capturing the youthful innocence that comes with living in the inner city. Throughout the book, Donaghy brings us into the streets of Philadelphia in a way that makes the reader feel like he, too, has lived there, like he, too, has taken the trains, like he, too, has lived in the same apartments and houses that inspired these poems. Few collections can capture the essence of a city the way that Somerset does.
— José B. González, award-winning author of the poetry collections Toys Made of Rock and When Love Was Reels

In his second collection of poems, Daniel Donaghy uses the power of poetry to connect the Kensington section of Philadelphia he knew as a boy—a place replete with crime, poverty, fractured families, and various other kinds of darkness—to upstate New York’s woods, rural Connecticut’s town greens and small churches, Vancouver’s back alleys, the killing ground of the 1864 Sand Creek Massacre in Kiowa County, Colorado, and the shores of ancient Greece. In doing so, he examines the relationship between memory and identity and strives to give voice to those who might otherwise be forgotten by history.

Start with the Trouble is the place of fist fights and first kisses, where we sit beside the dying and where we sing to those not yet born. It is where Michelangelo’s Pieta recreates itself on a Kensington sidewalk, where a mother watches helplessly as two older boys dangle her son from the roof of a building, where a prostitute writes poems between tricks before she disappears without a trace. It is where Bruce Springsteen goes back in time to woo Circe and the Sirens, where a father returns from the dead in the voice of Babe Ruth, where a mother’s spirit rises from the shadows of spruce trees, where Santa forsakes his reindeer and slides into town behind sled dogs. It is where simple gestures such as opening a car trunk or loading a wheelbarrow become portals into faraway, nightmarish worlds in which the young are forced to bear too much witness to the world.

Start with the Trouble is a place where beauty exists amidst every kind of ugliness, and where that beauty is made even more precious because of the depths from which it rises.

Start with the Trouble

winner of the Arkansas Poetry Prize and the Paterson Award for Literary Excellence and a Finalist for the Connecticut Book Award and the Milt Kessler Poetry Book Award

Start with the Trouble is a memory-haunted book. Returning to the mean streets of Philadelphia, to an ‘El-darkened neighborhood,’ Donaghy tells stories of fathers home from aching labor, of kids who quit school, get in fights or accidents, drift off, or disappear. In the end, this is a hymn to lives that don’t flower, shot through with loss and, finally, redemption.
— Kim Addonizio, author of Ordinary Genius
Poem after poem offers the consolation of a thoughtful human spirit who struggles with the blackness and is not broken. Never peripheral to human experience, Donaghy’s poems, centered in the heart, teach us to persevere.
— Vivian Shipley, author of Hardboot: New and Old Poems
Donaghy takes us to a corner of the City of Hope where hope ‘such a simple word’ exists as a complex illusion amidst the city’s everyday cruelties. You won’t find this corner on any tourist map. Here, survival is the only monument. While many of these poems look back, it is not with nostalgia but with desperation to preserve those who have been lost. These poems exist because they have no choice. . . . Donaghy is the real deal. He’s not striking any poses or doing any fancy dances. These poems grab you by the collar and compel you to listen.
— Jim Daniels, author of Revolt of the Crash-Test Dummies
Dan Donaghy could have been a stonecutter, but he chose to work something harder. Amazing, in these finely sculpted poems, how beautiful trouble and loss and pain can be, how excruciatingly pleasureable. We begin, and so often end, in trouble, a fact these poems do not deny. But, still, Donaghy tells us, trouble is not all we have.
— Jake Adam York, author of four poetry collections and recipient of a Witter Bynner Fellowship from the Library of Congress

Streetfighting

Paterson Prize Finalist

Streetfighting is a racy, sobering book about the vicissitudes of an urban childhood. Every poem has the ring of authenticity—the observed, the suffered, the mourned—but only because the language of every poem is wound tight as a fist. The poems tell everything, but they explain nothing: they revel in the weird inexplicability of the most ordinary human lives. Even the darkest poems feel joyous, buoyed by the energy of their language: read the first poem, and you won’t be able to stop—you’ll swallow the whole, and the final poem will change you.
— James Longenbach
The Irish boys hanging out on the corner with their DA hairdos and smart-aleck talk. Hitching rides under the bumpers of trucks, the corner bars, the fights, the boys that ended up in jail—the whole grimy, rich, stick-ball scene brought back in a rush. (Only for me it was the Brooklyn Dodgers instead of the Phillies.) Donaghy has recreated not only a childhood and a family, but a whole neighborhood and a way of life replete with its grim realities and terrible beauties.
— Alice Friman
Consistently throughout this very fine first book of poems is a precision of diction and an almost impeccable care for words that has the power to lift these poems, and the lives that inhabit them, somehow off the page, and then deep into our brains. I like too the unusual and engaging angle of vision of these poems, a lingering seductive kind of observation characterized most accurately by Mr. Donaghy’s own words: “Often we cannot read the gesture/ until the figure becomes background.” This is an entertaining book that is a true joy to read.
— Bruce Weigl
In Streetfighting Daniel Donaghy writes unswervingly about a gritty urban environment, and what in a lesser talent would have been simply depressing, a mother smearing her son’s face with a crushed lightning bug, or a boy falling from a high catwalk, “so quietly/ no one else knew he was gone,” we find instead small acts of courage and compassion, even a kind of grace achieved while playing basketball and street baseball, and most importantly a coming-to-terms with the past, with parents, with wrongs committed. Donaghy has more than enough talent and wisdom to pull it off in this brilliant debut collection.
— Harry Humes