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WINTER CROSSINGS Shoestring Press ISBN 978-1-912524-62-4 £10.00
Most of all, Lykiard appears to be saying that we should honour the
dead in a more realistic and less emotional way, recognising each
person for who they were and what they were actually like rather
than idealising them. This very grounded, secular, humanistic
philosophy of death is in keeping with Lykiard's detectable
philosophy of life, one primarily of carpe diem, of sensation and
experience, of love and travel, of socialising and socialism, of art
and rationalism, of what the Greeks termed eudaimonia (happiness),
of epicureanism and its goal of achieving a state of ataraxia
(tranquillity and freedom from fear -could there be a better
destination for the human mind?), of the mortal soul as opposed to
the eternal spirit.
Winter Crossings is
once more testament to how the poetic gifts of Alexis Lykiard, far
from diminishing with advancing years, grow greater and more sage
like with age, gifting us ever more valuable and surprising insights
from a sprightly mind that in some aspects still seems so young.
Alan Morrison The Recusant
I found a continuity and wholeness in the collection which bound it
all together – you avoid the easy lyricism that Yeats bequeathed us
I think, and go for a stronger narrative style. So many of the poems
tell a story: Everyone Their
Island, and a brilliant political poem about Israel,
Labouring The Point: A Colonial Question… I can’t think of a
better volume about getting old and viewing what’s left through the
poetic lens!!
John Daniel - Poet & Author
Your writing is wonderfully strong, touching too and occasionally
laugh-out-loud funny. The honesty of your personal patches I find
fine indeed.
Kate Westbrook – Artist & Musician
“I read and enjoyed it very
much. It’s a beautiful collection.”
Karolina Urbaniak, artist and publisher, Infinity Land Press
A book written from old age but not simply about old age.
Neither sentimental nor gloomy (though one title begins
Glum Thoughts), there is pleasant nostalgia along with
disabused reflections on mortality. As far as the latter go,
they are reminiscent of Lawrence’s poem in which human
autumn is seen as beautiful after a life well lived. If
Lykiard focuses on some geriatric pains, discomforts and
inconveniences, it’s with a sense of irony, acceptance and
recognition that love of life must embrace its waning.
The real significance is found in love, friendship and the
fulfilling work of writing. There is a noticeable absence of
boasting, or any reference to ‘success’ in the standard
terms. The values which quietly assert themselves are not
those of go-getters and greasy pole-climbers. This lack of
egotism grants even the poems which deal with excruciating
teeth problems or the trials of having the builders in, a
sense of generous sympathy. (Lykiard might be taken as an
exemplar of Hume’s contention that universal morality
inheres in natural sympathy).
This is Lykiard’s seventeenth collection, he is of course
also a novelist and translator. Quite why his novels are out
of print or he was dropped from publishers’ lists is one of
those confounding mysteries we can only regret. In his
eightieth year, there is no evidence of declining literary
powers. This is a wise, beautifully constructed book which
will endure Horace’s fleeting years.
[Alan Dent, MQB No 15]
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