Concerned with transformations and dislocations - both physical and emotional - the poems in James Lasdun's second collection speak exquisitely of desire and loss.
Jetlagged, estranged, out of synch or out of kilter, the figures in these poems sometimes just miss each other, sometimes connect explosively. And under their feet - whether it's a Roman pavement, a hill-path in Mexico, a Surrey lawn or a New York street - there is always something primitive, turbulent, ready to reveal itself. Intellectually rigorous, musical and deftly formal these apparently classical poems blend a dark, erotic animus with an exhilarating wit.
(19941118)
