On Between Earth and Sky

Lanford Wilson: “What a treat. I had to stop myself from reading Between Earth and Sky straight through like a novel so I’d have something saved to look forward to. I don’t like people calling writing ‘gorgeous’ but it really is gorgeous writing. One of the very best things about this collection, for me, is that it’s approachable. So much of it is just wonderfully lyrical and funny and moving. What a crazy/delicious world McIntosh invents.”

American Book Review: "At any time the zany can burst out of the customary, the past out of the present. . . . For McIntosh, surprise is discovery of selfhood. His poems step back from actuality and reconsider what's familiar. . . . Poems depart from (and critique) reality, delight in fantasy and return, and this act of escape is empathetic transformation of what lies beyond 'the real binding.' He . . . emphasizes the importance of 'something real' among 'hallucinations.' The journey from the predictable to the new defines these nimble, gentle poems."

Sidereality: "There's an old adage that says something like, ‘If you want to make them laugh, you have to get them crying,’ and McIntosh clearly understands how to put this adage into effect. Like the best surrealists (and when I think of the best American surrealists, Mark Strand, Russell Edson, and Charles Simic come to mind), McIntosh realizes that the best humor is found in a tight embrace with our coming to terms with our mortality, and it's in these black zones where we need to go. How does this recognition of mortality jive with lost childhood? Perhaps it's our recognition that childhood is passing away, and that no past instant can ever be repeated -- perhaps this is one of our first recognitions of our own mortality. And art simultaneously makes us aware, once again, of this fact and takes us to a point where we are able, if only momentarily, to overcome it."

On The After-Death History of My Mother
American Book Review:Sandy McIntosh's entertaining new volume might be mistaken, at first, for a merry romp through personal and literary history conducted by a slightly confused, well-meaning people-pleaser. His confusion begins with his bemused revelation that he has (maybe) two mothers, and continues through various other doublings (dream transformations, reincarnations, literary 'forgeries,' literary mothers both male and female, poems masquerading as prose and vice versa) to a final doubling (double-crossing) that brings with it a 'broade [sic] awaking' to reality.... This is a book of elegies—eulogies, really—to all the literal and literary bastards who have made McIntosh an artist and (maybe) a con.

ForeWord: “As the title suggests, the poet’s quest is familial, but it is also poetic. In a way, the poetic mentors McIntosh invokes (such as Allen Ginsberg and David Ignatow) are like fathers, or at least older brothers, to him. A sort of detective, McIntosh uses whatever tools are available to shed light on his family and poetic pasts.... The innovation of this work is most apparent when McIntosh combines as many methods as possible into one piece.”

Sentence: "Obsessional", a long poem in parts, comprises the final section.... Throughout "Obsessional", the speaker's work serves as an additional focal point: a literary scandal in 1559 surrounding Cambridge scholar Nicholas Grimald, London Printer Richard Tottel and the publication of Songs and Sonnets.... Intriguing and entertaining enough that it would make an excellent film.

Boog City: “The showcase piece of this book, a long sequence titled “Obsessional,” is remarkable for yoking an engaging Elizabethan literary detective story to a personal narrative about life as a grad school poet. Even more impressive than this set-up actually succeeding is the way McIntosh is able to tie compassion to dagger-thrust humor. If that’s what “obsessional” poetry is—personal narrative of neurosis that is aware a world exists outside the poet’s gut, and is not afraid to tell a joke—maybe it will catch on among those still in the stranglehold of the confessional. The ending sequence is balanced at the front of the book by the title sequence, composed of memorial lyrics and anecdotes in prose and free verse, at once touching and chilling. With pieces about David Ignatow, Allen Ginsberg, and H. R. Hayes the book leaves a haunting lasting impression, like the poet’s mother in “The Hospital Chair”—“She touches you and tells you you are healed/ and may go home,” but also warns “No one knows what will happen/ when I leave my tomb in the night/ to touch you.”

On Forty-Nine Guaranteed Ways to Escape Death

Rattle: “Meticulously organized, McIntosh’s book reveals his joy in having intellectual fun within the Table of Contents alone. Divided into eight cleverly titled sections, such as “From the Catalog of Prohibited Musical Instruments,” “At the Funeral Home Bar,” and “Insignificant Meetings with Remarkable Men,” McIntosh’s wit is precise and all-encompassing. Remarkably each section in and of itself does more than merely set up a joke and provide a solid comic payoff. You get the sense fairly quickly there’s a strong intellect and emotional core.”

Sentence: “Sandy McIntosh’s poems are incisive, clever, sometimes cynical, sometimes political, but above all, comic. As the reviewer, I got my copy of Forty-Nine Ways as a freebie. (Eat your heart out.) But I would gladly pay money for it. In the interest of stimulating the economy, you should buy this book. “

Galatea Ressurects: “Sandy McIntosh’s The After-Death History of My Mother is whimsical, sharp, humorous and clever. McIntosh’s ability to skip a whimsied path between prose and poetry is one of the most enduring factors of this book. He feels no need to confine himself to one style within a poem; occasionally he brings in drama as well. He is a wild card, and they are often the best to read and follow. The After-Death History of My Mother is an energetic book. The reader is dazzled, bemused and caught unawares by the way McIntosh approaches his subject.”

On Ernesta, in the Style of the Flamenco (January 2010)

Denise Duhamel: Ernesta, in the Styleof the Flamenco, Sandy McIntosh’s latest volume, bursts with brilliance and sizzles with sass. McIntosh’s new poems are audacious, ravishing, syntactic marvels, clowning-around oddballs. The energy and wit in this book will make you want to whip out your fan, put on your non-skid sole shoes, and dance.