All the Poetry! (Part One)

After slowly reading and becoming enthralled by Ted Hughes’ collection Crow, I feel better equipped for my long journey into the world of poetry. Although I’m not entirely sure how to go about writing reviews of poetry books, I’d like to at least chronicle the collections I’m reading in the hope that it might serve as an interesting (although in no way authoritative) guide for other people out there who might want to read more poetry. Continue reading “All the Poetry! (Part One)”

Crow – Ted Hughes

So, here we are: after many months of dipping in and out, of struggling and re-reading and feeling mystified, I have reached the end of Crow. I was absolutely determined to like it, and to begin with it was sheer bloody-mindedness that kept me going. But little by little, I did start to ‘get’ it and by the end, I was hugely enjoying it. Continue reading “Crow – Ted Hughes”

On the book struggles of moving to Spain

I’ve never counted the number of books I own, because I think it would scare me. It’s definitely somewhere in the triple figures, but other than that I don’t even want to guess. Every year I have the struggle of choosing which books to take from my gargantuan bookcases at home and transport to my university accommodation, where they pile up on the floor* and glare at me as they get slowly dusty**. Continue reading “On the book struggles of moving to Spain”

Grief is the Thing with Feathers – Max Porter

Grief is the Thing with Feathers had been on my to-read list for a shamefully long time until about a week ago, when I sat down one afternoon and read it from cover to cover in complete awe. It made me cry, it made me smile. I didn’t want it to end. It is a perfectly formed combination of viewpoints, narratives, fables, conversations. The language is in turns poetic, rational, witty, bluntly tragic. It is, quite simply, stunning. Continue reading “Grief is the Thing with Feathers – Max Porter”