NEW HOPE INTERNATIONAL REVIEW

I am not a lover of nature poems. In fact, the only ones I like are those used as an analogy for something deeper. And deep is not a word I can use to describe UNDER THE SUN. It is light reading, perfect for your grandmother or maiden aunt. Nothing to tax the mind is contained within. Nothing to excite it either. It is just a nice, easy, what-you-see-is-what-you-get chapbook.

It is good to review what you wouldn't normally look at. It gives you the opportunity to broaden your tastes, and occasionally to be pleasantly shocked out of the blinkered taste you have immersed yourself in. So, I sit here asking myself what it was that has made me 'enjoy' UNDER THE SUN. It is not the stylistic gymnastics of the poet, nor the deep messages contained within her poetry. Her book is relaxing. It is pretty. It is enjoyable and will not tax your mind to the extent you cannot stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. While her subject matter is unoriginal, the majority of her images are, and that is what saves this collection from the scrapheap. Take for example, PEACOCK:

	As wren, blackbird and lark pipe in the dawn,
	the waking peacock cries, then struts the lawn.
	A long-stemmed feather loosens, falls and lies,
	its spreading tip a cool matchstick flame.
	Indoors, the clocks chime, every hour the same.

	But vapour, whether clouds or mist,
	or more invisibly diffused, muffles the sun
	and turns it rubicund, a fruit with leaves,
	rhubarb and lemon, violet and tangerine.

	Flowers of war dead.
	Scarlet poppies in cornfields.
	Wreathing cenotaphs.

Isabella Strachan is obviously an accomplished poet. I would have liked to see her stretch herself more than she has done so in this book and move away from nature poetry. Her images can be striking, but I feel they are wasted here. UNDER THE SUN is a nice collection but let's see what else she can throw our way.