Sea of Leaves is the first full volume from John McKeown, after three small but galvanic splashes in pamphlet-form. Here for the first time is the full force of his oeuvre collected in one startling book. Liverpool-born but writing in his adopted Ireland, McKeown’s crystal-sharp lyricism is suffused with a Celtic craving, ‘an unspeakable, loaded subtlety’ . He bravely tackles the anomie of modern male identity, a sphere where few poets dare to tread. But there is something richly ancient in these ‘aural old runes of desire’, like the banshee-bawls of gulls ‘out of the
green dark past’ . Christ is an aloof cormorant stood on the sea, ‘not even remotely/ proffering the keys/ to any kingdom’ .
Sea of Leaves is the first full volume from John McKeown, after three small but galvanic splashes in pamphlet-form. Here for the first time is the full force of his oeuvre collected in one startling book. Liverpool-born but writing in his adopted Ireland, McKeown’s crystal-sharp lyricism is suffused with a Celtic craving, ‘an unspeakable, loaded subtlety’ . He bravely tackles the anomie of modern male identity, a sphere where few poets dare to tread. But there is something richly ancient in these ‘aural old runes of desire’, like the banshee-bawls of gulls ‘out of the
green dark past’ . Christ is an aloof cormorant stood on the sea, ‘not even remotely/ proffering the keys/ to any kingdom’ .