Sorry about recent blog silence but have been deeply immersed in
(a) crochet: 3 scarves and about 14 corsages in the last 10 days! However, to stave off another bout of RSI I made sure that I also did plenty of...
whilst I don't know any of R S Thomas's poetry (yet!) I was seduced into buying this book by a review in The Guardian. And I agree with those eulogies you can probably just about make out on the cover ( "A biography touched by genius" "Brilliant and unique....A masterpiece") It is also quite irritating at times, swinging around wildly from narrator to narrator, place to place, time to time (I'm too used to dry-as-dust, sequential academic tomes) but, oh, what fun. And so moving.
Beautifully produced, too, with endpapers that look as though they may have been by Stanley Spencer (or maybe, at a push, Laura Knight) but which turn out to have been by M E Eldridge, who--until I read this book--was just a name on the back of a postcard (published by Medici, in the 80s, I think) of exquisite illustrations of mice and foliage including a rosemary branch (which is why I, Rosemary, had it on my desk for many years). It turns out that "M E" was Thomas's wife, Elsi, who clearly merits a biography (and illustrated catalogue) of her own. (And I need a course in how to avoid overusing parantheses).