With warmth and unsentimentally Wendy French relives her family's life across generations, particularly her roots in rural Wales. Often through staunch, simple details, she conveys a sense of the human spirit. Moniza Alvi The past is never past and the dead are never dead in Wendy French's radiant new collection, her mother's distant voice is in the pull of her hairbrush, and her father still turns on a walk, a revenant long after his time, to look for the others. The Welsh farmyard, fields, bacon frying, and softly-spoken stories are at the heart of rich poems. Michael Hulse
Wendy French was raised in Vancouver, Canada, where she was certain her parents unwittingly cursed her writing career with a happy and stable childhood. In an effort to overcome her unfortunate beginnings, she sought artistic torment at the University of Victoria, but despair eluded her. Hoping for worse luck south of the border, she moved to Oregon with her husband, David, but happiness continued to stalk her, day and night. Finally, she conceded defeat, abandoned her quest for misery, and began writing humorous women's fiction.