#Review: MedEvac by Andrew Lafleche

You know those books that hit you in the gut, leaving you breathless but weirdly comforted? That’s MedEvac for you. Andrew Lafleche doesn’t just write poetry—he crafts it with the kind of intensity that makes you pause, reread, and then sit there thinking, What did I just feel?

Let’s talk about structure first. Lafleche’s poetry doesn’t rhyme in a neat, sing-songy way—and thank goodness for that! Instead, the rhythm feels raw and jagged, mirroring the chaos of the themes he tackles: war, loss, and a life unravelling. Take the sample poem, for instance. The lines feel fractured, almost gasping for air. They don’t neatly lead into one another but instead, demand you sit with each thought before moving on. That unevenness isn’t a flaw; it’s the whole point. It feels like the emotional terrain of trauma—messy, unpredictable, and oh-so-human.

And the themes? Whew, where do we start? War, divorce, the loss of a child—it’s heavy, no doubt. But Lafleche doesn’t wallow; he interrogates. His words are a scalpel, cutting into grief to see what lies beneath. What really struck me was his exploration of faith—or maybe the lack of it. Lines like “Blessed are those who die mid-infancy; Better still to have never been born” aren’t just provocative; they’re gut-wrenchingly honest. It’s the kind of writing that makes you squirm in the best way because it forces you to confront your ideas about suffering and salvation.

Now, let’s chat about the relevance of this collection. Poetry often gets sidelined as something lofty or niche, but MedEvac is universal. You don’t have to be a soldier or someone who’s lost a child to feel the weight of these words. If you’ve ever felt grief, loneliness, or the sting of being utterly lost, this collection will resonate. It’s like Lafleche has taken all those unspoken feelings we bury and given them a voice—gritty, unapologetic, and hauntingly beautiful.
Here’s the thing: these poems aren’t easy to read. They’re not something you’ll skim through with your morning coffee. They demand your full attention, maybe even a second or third read. But isn’t that what great art does? It challenges you. It stays with you.

In short, MedEvac isn’t just a book—it’s an experience. If you’re ready to face some tough truths and come out the other side a little bruised but better for it, pick it up. Just… maybe keep a box of tissues handy.

Find this book here.

(In collaboration with Poetic Book Tours)