Anne Kennedy, Sing-song. Auckland: AUP, 2003. ISBN 1-86940-295-2. 128 pp. RRP $24.99.
“These are dangerous days” announces the epigraph of Anne Kennedy’s new book Sing-song. The blurb tells us that this book of poems “seems a natural progression from her fiction,” which does indeed appear to be the case. The “dangerous days” quote is attributed both to SinĂ©ad O’Connor and Janet Frame, which might be said to give us some clue to the territory Kennedy inhabits. It’s not the Winnie-the-Pooh world of Anna Jackson, nor the haunted tundras of Hardacre or Howard. It’s a realm where intelligence doesn’t contradict feeling, where domesticity is not the antithesis of Bohemian chic. The poems, it is true, work better as a sequence than as individuals – there’s some wordiness, some lack of focus from time to time – but that’s essential to her intention, I feel. They steal up on you; they’re disarming. A verse novel, then? That’s a horrible albatross to fasten on anyone, and it wouldn’t be true to accuse this book of being that. Certainly it requires careful, cumulative reading to achieve its effects: in that sense it is prosaic, but it’s worth the trouble.
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