Notes on the End of the World is a quiet apocalypse. You won't find explosions or sudden extinctions in Privitello's poems. Here, the days are marked instead by quiet disappearances, abandoned objects, details that might be otherwise overlooked. Objects double as warning signs: "The asbestos siding is a hologram in the leftover sun. / At once, it is a dollhouse made of bones." Animals speak in prophetic visions These poems hold a microscope to life's mundane details, but they are also poems of agency— when the apocalypse comes, what use is a "good life?" Privitello asks us to be honest, unflinching. With each passing day, Notes on the End of the World gets louder and quieter, lonelier and lovelier. The end of the world does not look so different from an ordinary day, so pay attention. In the end, Privitello's poems leave room for regret and the hope of redemption— but not much.