In the face of a loved one's cancer diagnosis, Peelen works through the illness scientifically, using the language of mathematics and physics to place life and death into some kind of context. Peelen suggests that religion won't help her, though philosophy might. For example, in "Awake" she writes: "For Descartes, metaphysics was quick as/a thought, ergo sum. // For me, there's Calvinism to consider, / its inbred unworthiness, the voice of my mother" (p. 21, ln. 1-4). Physics and math are the better disciplines for developing some kind of acceptance; it's their orderliness that Peelen is drawn to: "If cancer strikes you/as random or chaotic, // remember that like / every other algorithm, // it too has a unique function, / the elegance of its own logic" (p. 5, ln. 15-20).
Peelen's style is spare and conversational but closer examination shows poems with rich sonic qualities. In "Proof," she uses alliteration with easy skill: "Despite persistent elements / of planetary suicide / like pesticides and / leafblowers at seven A.M. // the cells of the honeycomb / remain perfectly hexagonal" (p. 17, ln. 1-6). All but four poems are written in unrhymed couplets, reinforcing the sense of space and simplicity built by Peelen's vocabulary. Some poems presume the reader's knowledge of complex mathematics, such as "Mandelbrot Set," but the majority of the book uses accessible images to develop the emotional texture of the book. Birds, especially crows, reoccur in several poems. In "Prophecy," crows serve as eerie harbingers of environmental apocalypse: "Crows overpopulate San Francisco, // convocations grip the olive tree/in full avian convulsion, // foliage quivering with / the rage of corvid premonition" (p. 29, ln. 8-12). The patterns of bird behavior—their flight paths during migration, their flocking behavior—allow Peelen to reinforce the abstractions of chaos theory and quantum mechanics with a more common phenomenon that most readers have observed, but which still invokes a sense of wonder, even mystery, at natural patterns.
Of course, all of these natural phenomena echo the unstable, unpredictable nature of a cancer diagnosis. Whether a patient survives into remission or dies is based upon numerous variables, such as risk factors, how early the treatment is applied, genetics, and sufficient financial resources to afford treatment, among others. Peelen's prose poems "Draw" and "Stagecraft" are direct and unsparing discussions of the complexities patients face. Peelen use the verb "draw" as title and as the beginning of numerous phrases containing that verb: "lots," " a conclusion," "the line," "a blank," among others, each followed by narrative describing the patient's experience. In a similar way, "Stagecraft" uses theatrical language to show the patient , "let's say her name is Jane," (p. 35, ln. 2) working through the same process as "Draw" does. Both of these poems are made more poignant through the inventive form.
Quantum Heresies is a powerful, forthright, and challenging book that draws parallels between nature and medicine and portrays the narrator's daily life while someone she loves struggles toward death. Peelen's quiet, observational style adds delicate reinforcement to the emotional weight of her topic.
