This disturbing new collection from Janet Sutherland explores the deeply mischievous, but darkly malevolent figure of Bone Monkey. A trickster who has always existed, he's one of the old gods who sprang to life fully formed. Sitting on the shoulders of men and women through the ages, he is by turns perpetrator and poet, murderer and lover, gardener and carer. With sonnets, ballads and lyrical free verse Bone Monkey wanders through a series of shamanic creation myths into reveries on memory, love and loss. If he is brutal and amoral at times, he is also a dreamer rejoicing in those 'longings to eat the whole world', as Robert Bly has it, which are intrinsically human.
The first mistake to make with this highly creative book of poetry is to assume, as the title suggests it, that this is poetry of a Pagan sort. Nothing wrong with it if that were the case. It isn't though. It is far more than that and although the central character is a Loki like or better still, Puckish deity, the poems featured here are more to do with humankinds spectrum of frailties. From murder to sex, from death and rejuvenation to caring for a dementia sufferer, this selection has it all. Like any book of poetry, and unlike a novel, reading it from cover to cover, poem by poem, is never near enough to grasp all of what's been said. I read this through in just over one day. I then returned to is again for the next three. Re-reading and fully digesting each jewel like word. There are several poems that really thrilled me - 'Red Hibiscus' with its twisted psyched Bone Monkey being as devious and deviant as a Bone Monkey can be. 'His Exposition on the art of memory,' which carries a distinct melancholic feel to it and finally 'Fire Fleet and Candle Light' an ode to death, dying and the ultimate end of life. I am loath to call this a delightful book as delightful, much like nice, can sometimes sound trite but that is exactly what it is - delightful.
Competent poetry about a strange Erl King style character meandering troublesomely through history. The language has a certain zip and interest but the constant references to this elusive character begin to jar; I guess I miss his significance.