‘Don't Thank God’ is the inside look at Formula 1 you didn't know you needed
Frank Allison's debut poetry collection is a must-read for any motorsport fan
Welcome back to the “Deadly Passions, Terrible Joys” book club — and I so stoked that this past month, we've been reading Don't Thank God, Thank the Crash Test Dummies That Came Before You, the debut poetry collection from the immensely talented Frank Allison.
(Make sure you stick around to the end, because Frank has a big announcement to share, and I am intensely honored that she chose DPTJ as the place to make that announcement!)
I first read Don't Thank God last year, a few weeks after it was released, and I'm not exaggerating: I was blown away.
Don't Thank God is a poetry collection centering on motorsport, which in and of itself is worth noting. Divided into several sections inspired by a race weekend — media day, practice, qualifying, race day, podium, and comedown — it digs deep into the interiority of motorsport in a way that I've never seen before.
I read a lot of books about racing, both nonfiction and fiction, and it's a rare thing to actually find raw honesty on the pages of anything motorsport related. With nonfiction, writers tend to place a huge emphasis on facts and statistics that can be independently verified — even in cases of memoir. There's very little interiority, like there's a hesitance to admit that motorsport goes hand in hand with elation, disappointment, fear, and complex interpersonal relationships. Fiction tends to trend toward the “self-insert” style of writing, and for male authors particularly, that means almost wholly embracing a steely, stoic, no-nonsense attitude as they envision themselves as the successful protagonist.
That's because I think motorsport as a whole is so physical. At a track, you can hear the cars, feel them in your chest, smell burned rubber and gasoline. You can measure speeds and times with stunning accuracy. The drivers sweat, steer, and endure intense training sessions to prepare them for competition. Everything can be tracked, measured, compared.
Or can it?
Don't Thank God flips our visceral expectations on their head and instead presents us with a beautiful picture of the inner world of a racing driver. The pain of failure. The frustration of being measured up to your teammates, your friends, and coming up short. The ecstasy of victory, and the potent absence that takes its place the moment you step off the podium. The reckoning with death that imposes itself upon you, no matter how much you'd rather ignore it.
As a person who comes from a creative writing/literature background, this is the stuff that interests me — this is the kind of conflict that drives incredible novels, or in this case, a stunning poetry collection. But it's also the messy stuff that no one wants to talk about or admit to, which means the best of these stories are often told in retrospect.
I'm thinking of Jean-Eric Vergne being hospitalized because weight regulations at the time punished taller drivers, and he was desperate to find even the slightest edge over Daniel Ricciardo — so he starved himself into a hospital bed.
Impenetrable young man,
Will you be eaten from the inside out?
“Carving Knife”
I'm thinking of Nico Rosberg retiring immediately after winning a World Championship, ready to rid himself of the ongoing stress that had plagued him throughout Mercedes’ dominant era.
It's like a nightmare once you're in it, in that
It was a dream once, but something got confused along the way
“Rookie Mistake”
I'm thinking of Jackie Stewart retiring on the eve of what would have been his 100th and final Grand Prix because his protegé François Cevert had died during qualifying at the 1973 US Grand Prix, disgusted at the cruelty of a sport that had also snatched away the lives of his closest friends — 57 of them, he said, between F1, Can-Am, Indianapolis, touring cars, and more.
Sing to me via radio
and
scream when I crash
Hold my mother at the end
I don't ask for much
“Stage Hand Says Chop Chop”
I'm thinking of Kevin Magnussen openly talking about how he'd come to terms with being ushered out of Formula 1 at the end of 2024, because he'd rather have a chance at being great somewhere else than only be remembered for a mediocre F1 career.
There is no point in pretending
I am better than my predecessors
“Mercy Kill”
I'm thinking of Mario Andretti winning the 1978 World Championship at Monza, the track where he'd witnessed his first-ever Grand Prix, because his close friend, teammate, and closest title competitor Ronnie Peterson was killed.
Covered in champagne and rocketed back to earth,
Ground in a halting disaster of metal burrs and asphalt
The blistering was painful enough,
Skin pulling back an insult to injury
“We're Getting a Divorce”
I'm thinking of Peterson's widow Barbro falling in love with fellow racer John Watson, only to take her own life in the bathtub of the apartment they shared. She never got over her husband's death, even after almost a decade had passed.
That's the thing with distraction,
by the end, you are formless and shapeless,
cursing on the bathroom floor
“They Don't Give Podiums For Being Able to Take A Hit”
These are all facts of a sport that takes more than it gives, that is selfish by its very nature even as it encourages you to bond with your fellow competitors — the only other people in the world that can relate to your experience. Only one of you can win. Only one can be champion. There's always the risk of injury, or worse. And even if you push these things out of your immediate consciousness, they're still lingering somewhere in the background.
Don't Thank God is the first time I've ever seen these conflicting emotions explored in a published work, let alone so eloquently. Frank Allison is a stunning poet, and I haven't stopped thinking about her debut collection since I first read it. Every time I revisit her words, I unearth another layer of meaning, or tie a poem to some new, specific moment in motorsport history (and I find myself revisiting them a lot).
If you haven't bought your copy of Don’t Thank God, Thank The Crash Test Dummies That Came Before You, let this be your inspiration to head over to the Game Over Books website to place your order — and stay tuned! Later this week, I'll have an exclusive Q&A with Frank Allison published right here on this Substack!
Oh, and big news — there's a Don't Thank God merchandise store, and the designs are stunning. It officially launches today, and the three designs available can be added to t-shirts, hats, sweaters, blankets, and so much more. I bought myself a hoodie and a t-shirt, and I am obsessed with how comfy they are!
Please show Frank some love if you're able to make the purchase; support artists!
Wow, I absolutely love the merch and a fantastic write up on the book!