
|
|
Taylor-Made: Horizon & Back |
|
|
|
Review by Fiona C. Kimberley of Horizon & Back
Heather Taylor's first set of collected poems offers a tantalizing chocolate box of reflective, poignant & heartfelt imagery that will touch the heart of anyone who has ever lived, loved & grown up. This palatable collection provides a young, hippy, chic-chick perspective on life, which unconsciously tugs at the heart strings through nostalgic nuances. The first half of the book takes you on a journey through family life, where she expresses herself with a raw sincerity that asks for understanding rather than sympathy. Difficult issues such as death & funerals, love and regret, are approached with a bold frankness that is fresh and uncompromising.
In many ways this book is a collection of short stories told with
evocative & vivid descriptions that fold in upon one-another like
kaleidoscopic colours, & entertain the reader comparatively. In
'Growing up with baseball' we are reminded of flavours from our
schooldays, 'sun soaked skin & raked earth gives girls a reprieve from
perfume & strawberry lip-gloss', whereas 'Our First Date' expresses
Bridget Jones style idylls, 'I have foamy latte, organic orange juice
afternoon tea dreams, straightened hair�holding hands, shopping at IKEA,
wearing pearls & sweaters till death do us part'.
Taylor has a remarkable way of saying things just how they are & is not
afraid to voice normally unspoken thoughts, such as the married man's
silent dream about leaving his wife, 'The brush of empty hangers, sound of
chimes, whisper of going,' as he empties his wardrobe & packs an
imaginary suitcase. There is also a sweetly satisfying account of 'a woman who taught boys the meaning of sex, could drink anyone
under the table & never messed her mascara. Now with fat face and bloated
belly'. Equally, she strikes a chord with the teenage years, describing
'a red covered book slid between the mattress and box springs meant to
hold a kiss with braces or unlimited crushes in maths class'. However, my
favourite is a poem about the boyfriend who was 'Trouble', 'and trouble
never calls, no flowers come with cards perfume scented to break doldrum
desk days into firework fantasies', because we've all had one of those!
This pot pourri of poetic treats certainly wins a place on my bookshelf
and, ideally handbag-sized, for less than two and a half pints at The
Turf, you need a good excuse not to buy a copy. This book is not just for
poets, it's for anyone who enjoys reading about life's little moments, and
this hugely personal, yet accurate ensemble by a talented actress and
writer, is one to be relished.
|
|
|
|