Enda Wyley's 'Sudden Light' is marvel of sacred moments and of precious brief encounters with, say, strangers (a man who is asked to take a photograph, a woman glimpsed in the window of the house across the road) or a scrawny spectral fox appearing mysteriously at the front door ('Omen'). These hauntings intensify in 'All Souls' Day', where the visceral connection with the dead ('All of them are on the way back') is shiveringly established ('"Let me in," they call'); these hauntings manifest themselves, too, brilliantly, in photo albums, paintings and even graffiti ('U Are Alive'), where these visual prompts act as scintillae from Wyley's deep and affective memory and her warm humanity. In fact 'U Are Alive' could be her leitmotif: she is alive to the exquisite details of life, from spaghetti spilling onto a hot Italian street to the 'ring / on your finger glinting with love'. Throughout the book there is a magnanimous and magnificent tenderness informing whatever she chooses to write about, not least the powerful, poignant elegy to her mother, 'Photos of My Mother', in which the sacred bonds of mother and daughter shine out. 'Sudden Light' is a wonderful affirmation of life and living in all its suddenness, and all its light.