The fourth collection of the poetry of Paul Groves, comprising 49 diverse poems reflecting an entertaining look at the lighter and darker sides of life, historical and contemporary occasions and personalities, some poems having appeared in previous publications.

Pedwerydd casgliad o farddoniaeth Paul Groves yn cynnwys 49 cerdd amrywiol yn adlewyrchu golwg ddifyr ar agweddau ysgafn a thywyll bywyd, digwyddiadau a phersonoliaethau hanesyddol a chyfoes; mae rhai cerddi wedi ymddangos eisoes mewn cyhoeddiadau eraill.

This is the third collection by Paul Groves, of whom Catherine Fisher has said, "His technical skills are dazzling, and his wit dark and delicately delivered." The problem with cover puffs is that one is encouraged to read the contents in the light of those claims and expectations. I have to report that Paul Groves exhibits little proof of such skills in this book.

Certainly, the intention towards wit is evident; certainly, the poet aims to be "A detached observer, cool and ironic . . .", but while his "use of language" may be "sophisticated", the fact is that too many of the poems in Wowsers struggle to convince one that they are poems at all.

Now I have written of my conviction that poetry is distinguished from prose only in that it is written in lines (see How to Study Modern Poetry, Palgrave/Macmillan, 1989, and How Poets Work, Seren, 1996) and I will defend that simple principle to the end: but prose is transformed into effective poetry only when its line-breaks are effective. When Groves eschews rhyme, as he does mainly in this collection, he simply loses his way and fails to direct us in ours through the text. Too many of these poems sit fat on the page and clunk through their gears if we try and take them anywhere. I take, really at random, the opening of "The Experiment":

The biblical chocolates seemed a good idea.
They kept the Brothers busy and the boys happy,
blending originality and hedonism, producing a flagellation
only the walnuts felt in their hard brown spirals.
The Trinity in Neapolitan nougat. A pistachio John the Baptist.

Of course, the intention is comic, but it is at the expense of the poetry rather than through the form. It is all too easy to find such stuff in this collection. The poems which try to engage the reader on a more serious level are too often equally prosaic. Not prose, I insist, but prosaic. A poetry collection should sing more.

Tony Curtis

It is possible to use this review for promotional purposes, but the following acknowledgement should be included: A review from www.gwales.com, with the permission of the Welsh Books Council.

Gellir defnyddio’r adolygiad hwn at bwrpas hybu, ond gofynnir i chi gynnwys y gydnabyddiaeth ganlynol: Adolygiad oddi ar www.gwales.com, trwy ganiatâd Cyngor Llyfrau Cymru.