One morning in February last year, poet and former model Max Wallis found himself in a moment of profound distress that led to an urgent intervention. After alarming social media posts indicated he was headed to a bridge in London, friends alerted authorities, and Wallis was eventually found inside St Paul’s Cathedral, where he was taken into care. This episode marked a turning point in the life of a poet who had once been shortlisted for the Polari prize, set up by journalist Paul Burston to highlight new LGBTQ+ writers. Wallis’s journey since that crisis has been one of recovery, artistic rediscovery, and the creation of a poetry magazine born from trauma and survival.

Wallis’s early promise was shadowed by a decade lost to addiction and mental health struggles, including diagnoses of ADHD and complex PTSD. Retreating to Lancashire, supported by his parents and friends despite personal ruptures, he embarked on the difficult path of sobriety and healing. This process involved not only confronting painful emotions without resorting to substance use but also relearning the craft of poetry, which had remained latent within him through his ordeal. For Wallis, poetry was both a lifeline and a way to make sense of his experiences, leading to the conception of The Aftershock Review—a publication dedicated to trauma poetry that speaks candidly about breakdown, recovery, and the raw realities of survival.

The Aftershock Review aims to be more than just a literary magazine; it is a national platform that breaks from the confines of traditional “pity” narratives often associated with illness or trauma literature. Instead, it foregrounds work that is “forged from survival,” featuring contributions across a spectrum of voices—including disabled, disadvantaged, and previously excluded poets. Drawing inspiration from seminal anthologies like Al Alvarez’s The New Poetry and Bloodaxe’s Staying Alive series, Aftershock offers a space where established poets like Inua Ellams, Rhian Elizabeth, Golnoosh Nour, and even Faber poet Hugo Williams, alongside emerging talents, create a powerful dialogue on trauma expressed through poetry. Williams described the collaboration as a refreshing departure from the polished conventionality of much historic poetry, noting that the magazine’s style feels immediate and raw.

Contributors and other literary figures acknowledge the significance of Aftershock in shifting perceptions around confessional poetry, a form once marginalised as “feminine” or less serious. Gwyneth Lewis, a former national poet of Wales, expressed support for the magazine’s openness, highlighting her own struggles with emotional abuse and chronic illness, and the encouragement drawn from realising one is not alone in such darkness. Pascale Petit, a contributor herself, praised Aftershock as “a raft to all of us suffering trauma in troubling times,” underscoring the necessity of such candid artistic expression in contemporary culture.

Beyond its content, Aftershock’s impact is evident in its reception and reach. Sales exceeding £3,000 and over 360,000 Instagram views underline the reach of this niche publication, while a prominent billboard on Manchester’s Deansgate exposes the magazine to thousands daily. Plans are underway to expand its offerings with additional issues, poet pamphlets, outreach initiatives, and events, signalling a growing movement that taps into the enthusiasm of young writers and readers who find comfort and empowerment in poetry. Wallis reflects on the magazine with a profound sense of transformation: having once struggled with the desire to live, he now experiences the act of choosing life repeatedly as a source of astonishment and hope.

This rise of trauma poetry as a recognised and vital form resonates with wider trends in contemporary literature, where poets engage deeply with personal and societal hardship. Reviews of other recent poetry collections reveal a shared thematic preoccupation with illness, addiction, grief, and survival. For example, Dianne Suess’s ‘frank: sonnets’ offers a candid exploration of poverty, relationships, and drug abuse, while Victoria Chang’s ‘Obit’ poignantly navigates the unending grief after losing parents through prose poetry. Such works complement the ethos behind Aftershock, affirming poetry’s role as a mirror to human suffering and resilience.

Moreover, anthologies like Tom Lombardo’s ‘After Shocks: The Poetry of Recovery for Life-Shattering Events’ exhibit a longstanding interest in poetry as a medium of recovery from trauma, incorporating voices from across nations and experiences of war, exile, abuse, addiction, and loss. This context situates Aftershock within a global tradition of poetic response to trauma, but with a contemporary urgency and distinct focus on personal storytelling and community-building.

The creative explorations of trauma and recovery extend into interdisciplinary and multimedia projects as well, such as Kathryn Simmonds’s ‘Zones of Avoidance,’ which integrates film and sound to portray addiction recovery experiences in a live literature production. This expanding artistic landscape reflects a collective effort to give voice to marginalized and often silenced struggles, reinforcing poetry’s power as a tool for empathy, understanding, and transformation.

Max Wallis’s own narrative and the success of The Aftershock Review underscore how devastating personal crises can lead to renewed purpose and creative flourishing, offering both a beacon and a communal space for those grappling with trauma. The Aftershock Review’s ongoing evolution and growing influence promise to enrich the literary world’s response to the complexities of mental health and survival, echoing a wider cultural reckoning with vulnerability and resilience in poetry and beyond.

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Source: Noah Wire Services