"Turner has been a poet to watch since before her first book; she has also become a poet to marvel over, a poet carrying poetry into the next decades. But The Upstate is more than just an affirmation of what Turner's readers already knew—it is a catalog of the impossibilities of living in the present cultural moment, and yet it resolves itself in hope, in a vision of the possibility of 'money without death, ' and so a vision of a world better than any world before it. Turner sees a future world that is better than it could be, and in The Upstate she takes her poetry there. This is a salvific book."
—Shane McCrae, author of Cain Named the Animal

"These words will always stay with me: 'The question is who does your money come from / The question is whose loss.' With lyric force, Turner expresses the magnitude of toxic wreckage in the landscapes of southern Appalachia, as well as the scales of sorrow for a country and world that pretend wealth comes at no cost. Her exquisite poems grieve precisely for people, water, trash, animals, air, flowering trees. I feel lucky to have The Upstate in my hands and its cadences in my body, reminding me. 'Who can't live the thing she wants which is good and reasonable / Because of your money.'"
—Joanna Klink, author of The Nightfields

"The Upstate packs teeming lack. Turner has worked a poetry of muscular disgust for plutocracy. Track how the poet tends to glare then look askance, but in a way that damns, not frets. Who ends a poem with 'credible, credible'? The same poet who, when near-subsumed in impressionistic flood, brickwalls the lines into remarkable crush: 'Burning transparent all the way up to the top where the workers / Rise into a general collective of all they wouldn't offer.' Turner, that's who. The Upstate is an uppercut as statement. That's what."
—Douglas Kearney, Phoenix Poets consulting editor and author of Sho