I was fortunate recently to beta-read this collection of pieces, both poems and prose, put together by Stephenson Holt over a period of time and evoking events of his lifetime which made an impression.
I could not fail to have my own memories triggered too, by some of those which had an impact on the wider world, such as ‘The River Ran Black’. A child myself in England, when the school in the Welsh valley town of Aberfan was engulfed by a huge pile of mining waste which plummeted down the mountain and killed 116 young children and 28 adults on 21 October 1966, I remember my own school calling a special assembly in the afternoon to tell us of the tragedy. The author of this poem, being Welsh himself, has even greater memories of that terrible event.
There are lighter pieces here, however, such as the author’s memories of running the Athens Marathon in response to a challenge in ‘Nine is No Number’. At least the spectators cheered him then, unlike those in ‘Bergerac Old Town’ who clearly see the British couple as ‘idiot tourists’.
Finally, how could I not like ‘Winding up Laura’, added to the collection recently by Stephenson, who has recently become a firm friend and fellow author? My hair is still firmly attached to my head and my throat is not hoarse from screaming, as the author suggests in the footnote to the poem, but I had a good laugh at his attempts to provoke me. My recommendation of his book for perusal by any readers of this should convince him that my sense of humour is still intact.