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Telling a Hawk from a Handsaw
RRP: GBP£ 9.95
You Save: GBP£ 0.99
Price: GBP£ 8.96
Out of Print
ISBN: 978 1 903039 93 9
Categories: 21st Century, Australian
Published: August 2008
216 x 135 x 8 mm
Publisher: Carcanet Press
Making the slow line dip and sway in its motion
proceeding gravely into and out of the limelight
is worth the endeavour, if you are given to word-games,
which all of us are in one way or another,
playing at words of love and the diction of dying,
what we say being just as green as the world is.
from ‘The Alignments’
Chris Wallace-Crabbe writes with an alert curiosity about the world and the speculation it gives rise to. He celebrates household objects as well as the textures of the Australian landscape; European ancestors, both familial and intellectual, and the consciousness of animals; the damaged planet and the continuing possibilities of belief; science and soul. Humour and gravity inform his richly orchestrated language. Telling a Hawk from a Handsaw is a collection for a complicated world, both joyous and shrewd.
Cover painting Live Music (The Brunswick Club) by Kristin Headlam, 2004 (detail). Reproduced by kind permission of the artist. Cover design www.StephenRaw.com.
'His allies are words and he uses them with the care of a surgeon and the flair of a conjuror.'
Peter Porter 'A witty, endearingly slangy, yet unostentatiously philosophical Australian poet'.
Times Literary Supplement Praise for Chris Wallace-Crabbe 'There is certainly an immense and joyous energy in the book and it mixes intellectual experience of excitement and doubt with personal experience of exaltation tinged by reminders.. of mortalily.'
Martin Duwell, The Australian 'Wallace-Crabbe engages the most serious subjects in a frame of mind at once vulnerable and humorous. His personae may be shackled to the mast of slang, conceit, and bathos, but the song of the Siren is nevertheless nobly clear in these poems.'
Mary Kinzie, Poetry (Chicago) '...in his valuing of both the aesthetic and the ordinary as the realms of humanity, he always reminds us - despite what the end has to offer us all - of a different kind of weather, one where, even as darkness is falling, ''the lit clouds yet / sail sweetly over us / inhabiting a daylight of their own''.'
David McCooey, Sydney Morning Herald
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