Structured around the double-meaning of a Romanian word, La revedere, used to say "goodbye" but translated, directly, as "at the re-seeing," or "when I see you again," Adela Sinclair gives us a book of poems about the land between languages, the loss of a native tongue, the end of a shared context. Here, the crows give warnings, the children disappear, the narrator dissolves in patches of questions, self-interrogations, and unstable loci. Each death is doubled: the grandmother dies when the speaker leaves Arad, and then dies again, in the flesh. My heart lost its bearings on Sinclair's haunted shoreline. My heart broke again. And again.

- Alina Ştefănescu, author of DOR and Ribald

I felt these poems. “La revedere green gate, no 94.” I leaned closer. A Romanian child is saying goodbye to everyone and everything she knows. She is playing in the family butchery: blood all around. (A poet does these things.) She has survived Chernobyl’s smoke and soot; the deaths of family members; transatlantic emigration. Our protagonist arrives in New York where the streets are “unrelenting / in their shine.” While carrying the residue of some of our most important Eastern European poets, Adela Sinclair’s voice remains very much her own. She compelled me from the first line.

- Holly Wren Spaulding, author of Familiars (Alice Greene & Co, 2020)

Adela Sinclair’s personal strength and force are palpable on each page of this vivid collection, as she draws the reader in initially by her exile to the United States in 1987 – saying “La Revedere” (Goodbye) to Arad, Romania. Then she proceeds to return to her life in communist Romania memory by memory, sense by sense (taste, sight, touch), confrontation, longing, and, ultimately, a resolve to commit to the promise of New York City’s streets. A rich combination of necessary documentation of daily life during communism, memorial to her family’s struggle, unthinkable tragedy, personal song, and quest for place, Sinclair is uncompromising in her assertion of her own womanhood in every step of her journey. In the poem “For Mihai Eminescu,” the poet finds herself in symbolic dialogue with Romania’s most famous poet, and this meeting is an exquisite metaphor for the book itself. Sinclair looks back to her native language and country, first to deny that language matters at all, and then towards the end of the volume to feel her “despair turn into beauty.” Of course, Sinclair’s poems themselves are the proof that language does ultimately matter to her.  For those familiar with the richness of Romanian literature, there are moments when Sinclair’s words might seem directly inspired by Nina Cassian, E. M. Cioran, and Eugène Ionesco. And those new to Romania? You will find a brutally honest and fearless introduction to life in the “homeland” and in “exile” – which of course is a dualism universal to all immigrants across the globe.

–Cristina A. Bejan, author of Green Horses on the Walls

La Revedere