Letting Myself In, published by Dos Gatos Press in Austin in 2013, is an exploration of life's poignant moments as we experience the journey inherent in change. Anne holds up a mirror for us to consider how we experience anticipation, hesitation, invitation, adaptation, transformation and new beginnings. Full of mindfulness and memory, vivid imagery and lovely musicality, as well as personal reflection and universal truths, Letting Myself In, is a great read for those whose lives are taken them from one place to another: letting go, taking stock and finally moving on.
"The theme of transitions lies at the heart of Anne McCrady’s Letting Myself In. Here are just some of the things McCrady lets us in for: a cast iron skillet resting behind a cabinet door, a fireplace “hungry for logs and glowing ashes,” ball jars of mayhaw jelly, the natural world of pin oaks, tree frogs, redwings, and sandhill cranes. This is Texas, land of dusty pickup trucks, farmers in red flannel shirts, hot biscuits and honey. Besides wielding a pen, McCrady has her hands in dirt: planting bulbs, burying birds, trimming ivy, weeding, “some dirty-kneed job of keeping order.” She is writing the score of a woman’s life: marriage, family, leaving something behind, moving on. Always, she’s an acute and keen observer: “at the portal of this kitchen window / lifted from waves of worry, / I am a sailor who can finally see home.” McCrady is “a woman who sings / to meet the morning,” who wants “the roux to be perfect,” while at the same time, is mindful that “yes everything / that is precious / breaks and is remade.” Open this book, come along with her on the journey. It will crack open your heart." Barbara Crooker, Winner of the Paterson Award for Literary Excellence
"you are here as sure as when I visited/ last week, when life still slipped along/ as it has done for all these years"
from the title poem, "Letting Myself In"
"we rise, stumble, shove/our feet into feet into shoes,/hurry toward our hungers."
from the poem, "Ambitions"
"patterned windows strain dyes/ of ancient, hallowed light."
from the poem, "After An Illness"
"Evening deepens to deceive us."
from the poem, "Dusk"
"At the table of my discontent,/ you held up a shiny spoon."
from the poem, "Balm of Gilead"
"...everything that is precious/breaks, and is remade."
from the poem, "Porcelain"