Three latest poetry collections have garnered attention from critics and readers alike - Namanlagh by Tom Paulin, Foretokens by Sarah Howe, and Maryville by Joelle Taylor. In "The Best Recent Poetry – Review Roundup", these poets are praised for their thought-provoking works that tackle complex themes such as depression, genetics, time's relativity, becoming a parent, lesbian culture and LGBTQ+ rights.
In Namanlagh, Paulin's 10th collection, the poet has delved into depression and recovery in his work. The language is straightforward, unadorned, and more affecting for its simplicity. His reflections on recent shifts in Northern Irish history and politics are imbued with bite, particularly when discussing the cost of liberation. A poignant moment stands out: "Heed my cadences then and live only for now. / Don't ever bother about tomorrow. / Just pluck, today, life's full-blooded roses."
Sarah Howe's Foretokens is a reaffirmation of her sharp intelligence and ability to layer telling detail in her poetry. This collection takes on the biggest subjects - genetics, time's relativity, becoming a parent – as well as re-examining her mother's occluded history in Hong Kong. An anger has emerged in her tonal range, bringing a pleasing sharpness to her investigations: "child of a hoarder / I am not immune / to this mania this malaise / this inherited dream / of an archive / so complete nothing / could ever hurt again." Foretokens is a remarkable return.
Joelle Taylor's Maryville is a sweeping, 50-year history of lesbian culture and LGBTQ+ rights. The book frames itself as a television series because, according to Taylor, "I want you to see us". Urgent and memorable language permeates the poems, which are accompanied by screen directions. A tenderness for her protagonists lingers; she knows that liberation never comes without cost.
Nikita Gill's Hekate is a retelling of the life of the Greek goddess of plants, witchcraft, and more. The verse novel propels the reader through the story, though at times exposition contorts the poetry into flatness. However, moments of insight surface. A poignant pause stands out: "the shifting sands of time took my father from my features. Is that all ageing is? Leaving things you knew and once loved behind to become something brand new?"
Lastly, Phoebe Giannisi's Goatsong compiles three recent books, united by a rigorously intellectual style that grounds the poems in physicality: "I open my mouth to speak / but my teeth clench / you a seashell / a hidden word." The poetry does not give up its charms easily. Its oddity and opacity put it in mind of W.H. Auden's The Orators. In Goatsong, Giannisi is saying something important: "I say take me / in your embrace / in your violence / and gently / let me go".
In Namanlagh, Paulin's 10th collection, the poet has delved into depression and recovery in his work. The language is straightforward, unadorned, and more affecting for its simplicity. His reflections on recent shifts in Northern Irish history and politics are imbued with bite, particularly when discussing the cost of liberation. A poignant moment stands out: "Heed my cadences then and live only for now. / Don't ever bother about tomorrow. / Just pluck, today, life's full-blooded roses."
Sarah Howe's Foretokens is a reaffirmation of her sharp intelligence and ability to layer telling detail in her poetry. This collection takes on the biggest subjects - genetics, time's relativity, becoming a parent – as well as re-examining her mother's occluded history in Hong Kong. An anger has emerged in her tonal range, bringing a pleasing sharpness to her investigations: "child of a hoarder / I am not immune / to this mania this malaise / this inherited dream / of an archive / so complete nothing / could ever hurt again." Foretokens is a remarkable return.
Joelle Taylor's Maryville is a sweeping, 50-year history of lesbian culture and LGBTQ+ rights. The book frames itself as a television series because, according to Taylor, "I want you to see us". Urgent and memorable language permeates the poems, which are accompanied by screen directions. A tenderness for her protagonists lingers; she knows that liberation never comes without cost.
Nikita Gill's Hekate is a retelling of the life of the Greek goddess of plants, witchcraft, and more. The verse novel propels the reader through the story, though at times exposition contorts the poetry into flatness. However, moments of insight surface. A poignant pause stands out: "the shifting sands of time took my father from my features. Is that all ageing is? Leaving things you knew and once loved behind to become something brand new?"
Lastly, Phoebe Giannisi's Goatsong compiles three recent books, united by a rigorously intellectual style that grounds the poems in physicality: "I open my mouth to speak / but my teeth clench / you a seashell / a hidden word." The poetry does not give up its charms easily. Its oddity and opacity put it in mind of W.H. Auden's The Orators. In Goatsong, Giannisi is saying something important: "I say take me / in your embrace / in your violence / and gently / let me go".