Just finished reading Wodwo as it is represented in the Collected Poems. This means there was none of the prose to read as it's all been omitted, understandably so. My paperback of the collection is in KL, so I've had to put up with the feeling of missing something important, but since the poems are so brilliant I can live with the temporary loss.
And just how brilliant the collection is came home to me with the triple whammy of the final three poems: Gnat-Psalm, Full Moon and Little Frieda and Wodwo itself. The variations of style, tone and voice mean they could be by three different writers, yet somehow they are all authentic Hughes.
I couldn't help but notice that the last line of the poem which immediately precedes them, The Howling of Wolves, is in itself, in miniature, the work of a great master: The night snows stars and the earth creaks. Isn't that just gorgeous? - and in context so perfect, The Howling of Wolves being one of those poems I've sort of always taken for granted as being typical Hughes yet which came ferociously alive for me this time round.
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