This book is what I call value for money; it is split into three sections and each section is like a mini-collection in and of itself. Section one is a sequence of twenty-seven poems which gives rise to the title of the book. Section two is Holland's modern translation of an Anglo-Saxon poem called 'The Lament of the Wanderer' and Section three consists of a further thirty-three poems.
The last verse of the second poem of the collection, `Troika', really demonstrates what attracts me to Jane Holland's work:
"Outside is like the last dark,
familiar as the first hurt.
I'm used to its velvet lagoons
and swim of wet tarmac,
its absence of love,
my road ahead the white trick
of a travelling moon."
I love the many layers of sound repetition - like/dark/hurt/tarmac/trick and first/used, lagoon/swim/moon. The slow pleasure in sounding out 'velvet lagoon' and 'swim of wet tarmac' where the hurt and loss is made all the more poignant because of the use of sensual language. The unusual word usage in the imagery of "the white trick / of the travelling moon". All these factors work together to create an emotional impact in which the poem becomes as much the reader's experience as the narrator's.
There are so many lovely bits to pick out from these poems. Some of my favorites are: "Cornish rain understands loss" ('Tintagel in November'), "...lost in the thimblerig / that is England" ('Wend'). From 'Truck Stop:
"...for those
wraithlike countries of the night
where you can dream yourself awake
and the radio speaks to no one
because it's broken".
And from 'Metamorphosis':
"I hawk stile and scree
to the river-bank...
...Fresh channels have
cut cords here
through pitched grass,
sweat-strings of water, sun-
jewelled."
These are hugely visual poems and many, particularly in the first section, are packed with nitty gritty details of daily life which makes them accessable as real experiences as well as thoroughly enjoyable as tightly crafted poems.