Tim Folger, contributing editor of Discover, series editor, Best American Science and Nature Writing 2011:
"Jill Sisson Quinn's transcendent 'Sign Here if You Exist' challenges us to consider what we can learn about the nature of reality, the existence of God, and our notions of immortality from the fierce ichneumon wasp. It's an unforgettable story."
Kim Barnes, author of In the Wilderness, final judge, Annie Dillard Award for Creative Nonfiction 2003:
"'Subimago' is a beautiful exploration of physical and intellectual transformation. Quinn brilliantly combines scientific fact with personal experience, elevating both through the use of vivid imagery and lyrical language. The metamorphosis of maturation becomes something both strange and familiar as Quinn describes moments of displacement—that limbo of awareness that exists at the boundaries of change. Magical in its telling and transcendent in its tone, "Subimago" is an examination of narrative truth and how that truth can shift and redefine our sense of ourselves and those around us."
Kevin Kerrane, author of Dollar Sign on the Muscle: The World of Baseball
Scouting, and The Art of Fact: A Historical Anthology of Literary Journalism:
"Jill's work, close in spirit to Annie Dillard's, uses topographical and biological phenomena as bases for meditations, personal and philosophical, expressed in crystalline prose."
Diana Hume George, author of The Lonely Other: A Woman Watching America,
"I have high hopes for this writer, and some unreasonable expectations, so I mean it when I say she writes in Dillard's footsteps . . . in the tradition of close observation wedded to a perceptual frame that's ruminative. I also associate her with the best young naturalist writer I know, Barbara Hurd . . . Jill Quinn is exceptionally gifted. She writes like an angel, but an angel who's always making field notes. When you read Jill, you're on a walk, watching insect life or pond scum or creeks, or you're the wind that's blowing through her (and she'll tell you exactly at what rate it's moving), or you're contemplating geological formations such as kames, or you're a visual predator seeking spring's first peepers, or you're checking your neck because her description of how ticks make you into a bloodmeal is so vivid."