Product Description
“In the poem ‘Nuclear’, after stating ‘… Nothing is ever obvious or contained’, Ivy Ireland asks, ‘How can I write / a lyric poem about the micro-needle in the gargantuan multiverse?’ Yet, in a book replete with angels, devils, evolutionary theory, astro-physics, mythology, magpie song, winter flowers, ghost gums, strangler figs, human love and human fear, this is what she does. Never obvious or contained, Porch Light is its own multi-verse of ideas, speculations and puzzlements. It swings from abstract terminology to idiomatic vigour, from doubt to joy, from mind to body. This is exciting writing, exciting reading.”—Brook Emery
REVIEWS
“Porch Light is a distinctive and strange collection…” GEOFF PAGE, The Australian
“Ivy Ireland’s Porch Light is an ambitious and expansive work, cross-functionally traversing a wide range of disciplines. Nothing is off-limit: psychology, biology, literary theory, physics, Buddhism – you name it, it’s probably in here, and yet the poetry remains light, coherent, and subtle. This is perhaps because each of the pieces is unified by the grounding central force of the poetic persona, which remains a constant through the book. In Ireland’s work, the persona has gravity, is familiar and domestic, even when the work becomes highly esoteric. The voice is as egalitarian and open as it is intellectual and sharp-witted. The overall feeling is one that mingles sophistication with childlike wonder in a way that is charming and powerful at the same time.” MAGDALENA BALL, Compulsive Reader
“Porch Light is an ambitious work, rendering the enormity of life – as we (don’t) know it – through intense, often grotesque visions of beauty. But Ireland’s poetry is also playful as it carves out its topos, dwelling in a liminal zone – a seductive porchland of half-hidden bodies and worlds.” LUCY VAN, Cordite Poetry Review
“Ireland has a hummingbird mind, the reader is led into places they had not previously experienced to then find themselves pinned into that place by richly original language. Mercurial.” LES WICKS, Rochford Street Review
