Just reading this collection at the moment and would love it because of the tactile, musical quality of the verse and its wit BUT FOR a couple of poems which are callous and mysogynistic. Implanted in the snowstorm of language are two stories: one about a prom queen who dies in a road accident and another about a woman who is burnt alive by the side of the road. No horror is expressed, they're just part of the verbal showtime. On the other hand, he does seem quite annoyed that people don't read very much Swift these days. yeuk! Come back, Derek Mahon, all is forgiven!