There are but two things to review in a book like this: Mr. Simpson's introduction and his selection of poems.
The poems - many of the best the English language has to offer - are not in question. Five stars. Six stars. The heavens on a clear night.
Mr Simpson's introduction, the space he can fill introducing you to the joy of poetry, or the art of poetry, or the craft of poetry is a major disappointment. Not that there is nothing to learn. He touches on sound, line, rhyme and meter. And some thoughts and observations are worth taking note of. But the bulk of this introduction is occupied by an academic hashing out arguments about imagist poets' style or the vagaries of whether Romantic poets were trite or not. Here, Mr. Simpson leaves the novice, the eager beginner behind...and seems to care not.
The result is eminently forgettable; the worst possible outcome for the part of the book that is written specifically to get and keep you involved. Were I a cynic, I'd say that the intro was part of the contract. Put in your 20 pages and you've got a book. But I don't think that's the case (nor, frankly, does it matter a lick!). I think Mr. Simpson somehow got lost. Somewhere in his career, or in this project, he forgot about joy; the joy of learning, of discovering of trying your hand at the same craft that these masters ply.
Mr. Simpson got lost and left the poetry behind. But he left a stack of real good poems, if you need them.
why do i even have this book? i bought it for some reason totally randomly? someone gave it to me who was getting rid of some old books from courses they took? who knows? who knows? not me not me. but here i am reading it i guess.