Doves is Lachlan Mackinnon's most candid and affecting volume of poems to date, and follows on from Small Hours, shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Poetry in 2010. Formally dexterous and inventive, these inclusive, approachable poems welcome all-comers in their broad-minded refugees, reality television, detective shows, number-theory, Shakespeare's brothers, ecology, a marriage. Wherever it turns, the poetry remains courageously sociable and moral, ever concerned with honouring lives and good deeds, and asking what can be saved from the ruins of what is lost by individuals, cultures and civilisations. But for all its outward gaze, its cares speak privately too - of crises in personal action and belief, of friends and intimacies disturbed and renewed - and, underpinning it all, an urging to account for our behaviour and 'to start to answer / to ourselves for what we have made of life.'Doves is an uplifting account of recovery that makes no stranger of despair. But with each moment of despondency comes a tough-minded - even humorous - response that tempers grief, and bolsters our equipment for living, and in so doing extends a timeless ring around the heart of this thoughtful, inspiriting and memorable book.
A stunning, mature collection. Full of vivid images, deeply felt tributes to people who mean a lot - or who once did - to the poet, poems that capture subtle shades of thought and meaning.
Lachlan Mckinnon's lines on Seamus Heaney resonate with me:
'You weren't hurt into poetry but lured into it, trout to the fly, by the relish of sounds'
But also,
'And bewilderment at the wilderness men make of what is human or humane
A funny collection & Lachlan's married to Wendy Cope which is a funny pair.
Struck by a good few of these especially the title poem dedicated to Seamus Heaney which does what it does rather wonderfully & with the necessary nods to Auden. Also appreciated Will's Brothers which assumes the voices of Shakespeare's brothers and their ways
I think he's sharpest at his theologickest --- look at the title. But a curious poet all round
On occasions I have worn myself out struggling with some poet's ostentatious complexity in the hope that arcane language, if not beautiful, might yield a truth or two. Lachlan Mackinnon's poetry is a counterbalance to such indelicacy, to inefficiency, exasperation.
Never demanding the reader struggle to unpick locks; never seizing or dragging, or demanding response, these poems have an ease of manner and the open doors of a trustworthy, down-to-earth friend. Repeat readings are a sharing in the poet's pleasure; rich in language, form and the reverberating possibilities of insight they detained a willing reader.
Thank you Mr MacKinnon; today I thank you for:
Amos Jardin du Luxembourg The Return Doves Crem Death in the Neighbourhood and Home
I’m between 3 and 4 stars here because I’m hoping to understand this “magnificent collection” with further reading, but I really like how some of the poems are written here and how interesting the takes and perspectives are.