''I am so obsessed with Koraly. Her work is disarming, emotionally fearless and she sounds like nobody else alive. I will read her poetry forever.'' – Hera Lindsay Bird
''The kind of honesty that can only come about after being wound-up, held writhing, repressed and silenced''
– Disclaimer Magazine (UK)
''She dishes the dirt, and she's not afraid of anything. Her writing is coming for you, so you'd better just accept it…Energetic and irreverent, a must read.'' – Overland Literary Journal
''With this second collection of poetry, Koraly's writing gets better and better. There is the same punch and passion of her first collection, yet there is also wonderful moments of quiet and regret. In this long form narrative poem cycle, we see the emergence of a soul out of shame, bitterness and terror into defiance, resolution and strength. It's absolutely authentic and absolutely dynamic.''
– Christos Tsiolkas, award-winning author
''In her candour and her urgency, Koraly captures the painful, the shameful, the messy in all of us. Koraly's voice is unique, impassioned and grunts and shouts and howls and whispers and cajoles and offers on every page of this book. Just give me the pills is an odyssey. A female, Greek-Cypriot-Australian odyssey about being, becoming, about motherhood and marriage, about self-hatred and self-love. It is both intensely personal and broadly universal. It is a guide to self-realisation. A call to arms.'' – Emilie Collyer, award-winning playwright
''A viciously fearless poet.'' – Luka Lesson
Just Give Me The Pills is a story told through poetry of repression, and the terror of realising all the choices you've ever made are those you were expected to make, and you have no idea who you really are. It is a story of liberation, of rebuilding and finding one's true self.
In a large, white-picket dream, a married mother selfishly cries. She has everything she ever wanted – a husband, a house, a business degree, a baby – she is at the pinnacle of the migrant dream. Perhaps she needs to return to her medication, the pills she stopped taking to become pregnant. She was taking them for six years. She wasn't allowed to move out of home so she married at twenty-two. Now she is thirty, and it's as if she is looking at her life for the very first time. She is starting to see things. The creativity she had kept buried inside all her life birthed out with her daughter, and now her words are taking on a life of their own....