I love these poems. They were comfortable poems (I mean that in a good way). They conjured a world, a life, that is often neglected in poetry (I think). They were poems about family…the truth of family, the imagination of family, the beauty and longevity of family. It was very, very good. Very rich. I felt wrapped in a soft blanket as I read many of these poems.
Unremarkable. It commits the cardinal sin of any book - boring the reader. It reads like a stale memoir with little plot and less craft. It's not bad, but it's also no good. But it makes a fantastic cautionary tale for aspiring poets: like fortune, art favors the bold.