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This is an edition of the Books Briefing, our editors\u2019 weekly guide to the best in books. Sign up for it here. <\/em><\/p>\n Andrea Gibson wasn\u2019t, in most circles, a gigantic celebrity\u2014but their face and words were visible and prominent. Gibson, the poet laureate of Colorado, who died on Monday, began their career with spoken-word performances in caf\u00e9s and at open mics around Boulder. Despite their intense stage fright, Gibson would stand in front of crowds of strangers and recite intensely confessional verse about their anxieties, their queerness, their heartbreaks. As their public profile rose, Gibson kept speaking to strangers\u2014though more often than before, the audience wasn\u2019t in the same room. In the 2010s, when slam poetry exploded in popularity, Gibson began appearing online\u2014in Button Poetry recordings, in a video submission for the NPR Tiny Desk competition during which they were accompanied by piano. When the pandemic, and then cancer, prevented them from touring and performing live, they held virtual readings and distributed videos recorded at home. They asked listeners to have an experience with <\/em>them, and they valued the way speaking poetry aloud can amplify its power.<\/p>\n Here are three new stories from The Atlantic<\/em>\u2019s Books section:<\/p>\n Gibson was all over Instagram. They were a visual poet\u2014not in the manner of writers such as Anne Carson and Claudia Rankine, who have included photographs, drawings, and found materials in their books, but instead in a distinctly 21st-century fashion. In performance, their face and their body became crucial parts of the work, and their written words were frequently arranged in stark type on plain backgrounds. That\u2019s how I most often interacted with Gibson\u2019s poems: as small snippets of video or text on friends\u2019 and strangers\u2019 Stories. An avalanche of these posts was what informed me of the poet\u2019s death.<\/p>\n Because Gibson leaned so much on the spoken word, their poems were obvious and emotional\u2014to their benefit. Figurative language played its part, but so did lines as straightforward as \u201cWhy did I want to take \/ the world by storm when I could have taken it \/ by sunshine, by rosewater, by the cactus flowers \/ on the side of the road where I broke down?\u201d As my colleague Faith Hill wrote this week, \u201cTheir verse sometimes risked seeming cloying or sentimental because of how unselfconsciously it concerned love: feeling it, cultivating it, spreading it, protecting it.\u201d And this unabashed style made their words easy to share, as Hill points out; the universality of their themes was a feature, not a bug. Clearly, they wanted to be understood instantly, and by all kinds of readers.<\/p>\n This kind of accessibility is not always prized. \u201cInstagram poetry\u201d is sometimes invoked as a derogatory description of writing that prioritizes drama over artistic reflection. But I saw Gibson\u2019s open-hearted verse strike a chord with all kinds of people, including readers who don\u2019t spend much time on poetry. Gibson\u2019s focus on the connection between poet and listener allowed them to reach beyond traditional readers of verse. And they used that platform almost exclusively to spread a message of gentleness: \u201cNearly every poem is an exercise in empathy, summoning generosity even in response to cruelty,\u201d Hill points out. Gibson was well read, well watched, and well loved for that approach.<\/p>\n Courtesy of Coco Aramaki<\/p>\n Andrea Gibson Refused to \u2018Battle\u2019 Cancer<\/strong><\/p>\n By Faith Hill<\/p>\n The last years of the poet\u2019s life were among their most joyful.<\/p>\n Read the full article.<\/p>\n The Book of Records<\/em>, by Madeleine Thien<\/strong><\/p>\n The Book of Records<\/em> takes place in a postapocalyptic limbo called The Sea, where past, present, and future fold in on themselves and thoughts float in the air like dust. It\u2019s a giant structure\u2014maybe also a metaphysical construct\u2014on an island in the middle of an ocean, full of refugees from some vaguely described ecological and political catastrophe. Our narrator, Lina, is remembering the time she spent at The Sea with her father 50 years ago, when she was a teenager. The pair had interesting company there: Their neighbors were the philosophers Hannah Arendt and Baruch Spinoza and the eighth-century Chinese poet Du Fu. Or maybe these were their spirits; the reader isn\u2019t quite sure. Thien writes beautifully about the lives of these thinkers, and their tales of escape from political or religious oppression end up melding with Lina\u2019s own story: Her father, we discover, was also a dissident of sorts. With The Sea, Thien literalizes a state of mind, the in-betweenness that comes before one makes a major decision. The stories Lina absorbs in that out-of-time place all ask whether to risk your family or your life on behalf of an ideal\u2014whether it\u2019s worth sacrificing yourself for another, better world you can\u2019t yet see.\u00a0 \u2014 Gal Beckerman<\/p>\n From our list: 24 books to read this summer<\/p>\n \ud83d\udcda <\/em>Shade<\/em>, by Sam Bloch<\/p>\n \ud83d\udcda <\/em>Maggie; or, A Man and a Woman Walk Into a Ba<\/em>r<\/em>, by Katie Yee<\/p>\n \ud83d\udcda <\/em>Pan<\/em>, by Michael Clune<\/p>\n Illustration by Josie Norton<\/p>\n I Fought Plastic. Plastic Won.<\/strong><\/p>\n By Annie Lowrey<\/p>\n Before I could buy something expensive and relax, I stopped, for once. Was I actually reducing my exposure to dangerous chemicals? Was my family safer than it had been before I began my campaign? What kinds of plastic are truly dangerous in the first place? I had no idea. More than I wanted to spend hundreds of dollars at Williams-Sonoma, I wanted to know my enemy.<\/p>\n Read the full article.<\/p>\n When you buy a book using a link in this newsletter, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting <\/em>The Atlantic.<\/em><\/p>\n Sign up for The Wonder Reader, a Saturday newsletter in which our editors recommend stories to spark your curiosity and fill you with delight.<\/p>\n Explore all of our newsletters.<\/p>\nWhat to Read<\/h4>\n
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