Ian LeTourneau

Now that Wyatt is getting to be on a better sleep schedule and I’m settling in at the job, I have time to read again. I picked up two books last time I was in Edmonton and have been reading them, rather than the pile of lit. mags that have been piling up since September (though I’m looking forward to the latest Fiddlehead, which has a large feature on Australian poets). The first one of the two books I read was Frieda Hughes’ latest, Forty-Five. It is in the same vein as her father’s Birthday Letters, autobiograhical and confessional, but lacks the power and range of his stuff (though that’s somewhat an unfair comparison, because I think Ted Hughes is one of the best poets last century). Where images from his book are still seared into my memory, I can’t remember much from her book, and I only read it a few days ago. It was competent stuff, though, just not amazing. I also picked up Simon Armitage’s translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, which I’m having difficulty with. There are random passages that are inspired, but on the whole, it is uneven in tone and diction. I’m not as fond of it as I was W. S. Merwin’s translation. i still have about 1/4 of it to go.