Donovan grasps talismans of survival: birds foraging in the snow; her daughter's singing - which lights up the hospice in midwinter - and her son's success at soccer. The title-poem resists the classic definition of the grieving widow, instead capturing one of Donovan's enduring motifs - the moment when the mask slips and the true human response is released.
From the reviews of Rootling: New & Selected Poems:
'The voice of these poems is unpretentious, funny, earthy, honest and bursting with energy... It's her craft, however, that creates the illusion of high-spirited spontaneity and buoyancy... In this new book Donovan's remarkable fertility with imagery serves a profound exploration of the first and last mysteries of the flesh.' - Peggy O'Brien, The Irish Times
'These are subjects at the core of human experience, made poignantly luminous by Donovan's assured touch and uncluttered poetic language.' - Dr Charlotte Beyer, Iota
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