Review: Not Quite Heaven
Ricardo Moran’s Not Quite Heaven probes identity, family, faith, and capitalist systems across six thematically framed sections—from “Dystopia Rules” to “Utopia Ascends.” Each section opens with a poem that frames that section’s concerns. Moran’s voice is intimate and sharply observant; the collection is strongest when he allows vulnerability to illuminate the everyday.
Moran covers a wide range of themes—queer childhood, travel, family history, religion, and critiques of capitalism. In “Blue Light Special” Moran turns a store aisle into a moment of queer recognition: “Quietly, I pick up a pack of men’s briefs / because I was 10 and that’s all there was.” The mundane purchase becomes a charged coming-of-age image. “Bomb Cyclone” links weather and capitalism—”…exploded…with discounts of cheap, plastic trinkets”—lamenting the hollowing of Main Street and the loss of community. At the end, the weather clears and “not a breath remained.”
In poems such as “Abandon the ‘O’,” where his grandfather follows along with the name Richard for the promise of life and prosperity; in “Halfway” and “Jesus Left Me at the Alter” he uses religious language to interrogate lived experience.
Recommended for readers of contemporary poetry—especially queer men, travelers, and anyone drawn to poems that fuse the intimate with political critique.