Gallas's collection is a very solid, worthy (though I shy from using the word these days, since it's picking up of a more derogatory tag) body of work, presented simply, without fuss and free from the usual, unnecessary prejudice for material that books like this tend to attract from their editors. I like the way Gallas has laid out the poems in a straightforward, alphabetical order - not lumping together themes or approaches - because it gives the whole a startling variety, but achieves this without losing any sense of rhythm or cohesion. At times the book feels like one person speaking a hundred different languages, at others like a family sitting in conversation. The quality of writing is excellent and the kinship that poets far removed from one another in terms of geography share comes as a very pleasant surprise. Maybe it's just me, but I sense a tinge of loss running throughout almost every poem. Whether it be a tender mourning for the loss of innocence or vigour, the loss of the day or even good weather, or the more poignant loss of life or love, freedom or choice. But always retaining a sturdy undercurrent of hope or celebration.

My only criticism would be that I'd like more information on when the poems were written to lend a little more perspective (but then again, this may colour my interpretation and harm the whole). A little information on sources for further reading would also be a boon.

Overall, a very satisfying tome and a breath of fresh air amid the plethora of retrodden ground that a great proportion of poetry anthologies these days descend to.

Joz Rhodes
Blackwell's - Sheffield Mappin St