This is an entrancing read. The story, told in a sequence of poems, of a diligent but burnt-out island crofter who buys a fourth-hand workaday tractor and discovers that, in his hands, it can convert to a space capsule. And he wastes no time in taking off on nightly joyrides of galactic exploration, ‘each whirl a defiance of his ancestry’.
Murray’s gift for storytelling is at full power here, the narrative a roller coaster of loops and bends and inversions; images so vivid they give you a jolt, like the one of the crofter ‘stealing red threads from a sunset’, for a weaver neighbour, ‘to lighten up the overwhelming gloom/of dark twill stretched before him.’
(Maggie Rabatski)
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I want to hold Donna's words in my hands, swallow them, say them out loud. They are brutal and tender, passionate and nostalgic. They get you from the page right in the guts.
(Kirsty Taylor, poet, writer)
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Allan's poetry never fails to surprise and delight. In Memory of Waves. he uses the imagery of the sea to invoke intense feelings about ' our eternal now'. He portrays compassion in a range of poetic forms. 'Cloth' is a favourite of mine as he asks 'weave me new' in an extended metaphor. In Lost 'you are the light on the other side of hope' is a beautifully evocative ending.
On the other hand, his prose poems on diseases show his dark humour as they are insinuatingly menacing as he takes on the personas of the diseases and warns us 'I'm not dead yet'.
This collection of poems shows his versatility and skill in the use of language as well as his humour and compassion.
(Ann McKinnon, poet)
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Like nesting dolls indeed, these are poems of tender love and longing which open out to encompass a century or more of family history. They are poems of emigration and alienation, of love and loss, brought alive by the detail in Kathryn Metcalfe’s writing. I particularly liked the longing evoked in ‘Back Court’ where the patch of blue sky grows smaller every day, even ‘weeds would be welcome here’ and the young woman’s sigh is a small brown bird reaching for freedom. In Seanchaidh/Storyteller, the title character comes to life as ‘Ancient campfires burned / in his eyes as he worked / the fabric of hand me down / stories’.
The poems come to us as snapshots, scattered and seemingly random, in much the same way that family history is remembered and shared.
(Jennie Turnbull, Writer)
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Linda Jackson’s ‘The Siren Awakes’ is a haunting, heartbreaking and often hilarious dissection of the author’s own childhood and early adulthood; a real world of monster masks, dark closes, dazzling sunlight, love, fear, and, particularly, music. Gentle innocence and sudden cruel violence exist side by side. (Graham Fulton, Poet)
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