Compelled by my bookshop’s bingo chase, I forced myself to buy a book of poetry some weeks ago (it’s a genre I otherwise have little patience for or inclination towards). I ended up picking out Eunice de Souza’s Volcano simply because I rather enjoyed reading her ‘Dangerlok’ last year, and hoped the same acerbic wit and brevity would find its way to her poetry (for which she’s far more highly regarded). I was NOT disappointed, and I found myself practically inhaling this anthology (or whatever it is that you call a complete collection of poems by any given author). My favourites were her takes on Goa of yore, which were as observant as they were laughably sarcastic, and some of her more spare (but sharp) musings on grief and life in the big city. Admittedly, some of the mid-section work on nature and birds didn’t speak to me as fluently (which is why I rate this 4 and not 5 on 5), but on the whole, I rather enjoyed reading her poetry and proving my apprehensions unfounded.