An Aviary of Small Birds is both elegy to a stillborn son and testament to the redemptive qualities of poetry as a transformative art. Here, birth paradoxically becomes the moment of death when, after a long labour, the baby's heart gives out. However, just as grief is not linear, so too the book follows an emotional rather than a chronological arc. Ultimately, it is a closely felt connection with nature that allows the author to transcend the experience and honour the spirit of her son.
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[wears white gloves / and his left-hand waves / on the crowd, moves (THE UNDERTAKER)]***
(Oxford Poets, 1 October 2014, e-book, 75 pages, borrowed from @natpoetrylib via @OverDriveLibs)
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I've read other collections of poetry by the poet and have been very impressed. I'd heard a lot of good things about this book so was really looking forward to it. I enjoyed many of the poems in this collection. This is a very touching book, very moving and very painful to read at times. The best poems are the ones that touch on the subject of the poet's stillborn son. These were raw and almost heart-breaking at times but far and above the best poems in the collection such as The Undertaker, The Paperwork and Starlight. The poems don't always sit well together. There are times when a moving poem about the poet's stillborn son is followed by a nature poem and both poems didn't sit well together. It almost felt like writing about her stillborn son was too much and the poet included other unconnected poems to make it easier on her and give her a bit of breathing space. This made the concentration of the collection a bit scattered. It would have been a far stronger collection if the only subject matter was the poet's grief at losing her son.
