“CAN’T JUST GO. Can’t, more to the point, just arrive, land. You must prepare yourself,” writes the poet Elizabeth Bradfield, in Toward Antarctica, a marvelous book of prose, poems, and photographs that document her tenure as a naturalist there. More precisely, the book traces Bradfield’s circumnavigation of a polar place that’s hard to linger in, impossible to inhabit, and whose majesties can be glimpsed in partial ways, no matter what longing they inspire before or after.
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