The poems in this collection by Dianne Bates contain many fine lines and images,

A Fine Line   Review by Kate O’Neil

The poems in this collection by Dianne Bates contain many fine lines and images,

Even the laundry reveals her –

under-things splayed like thighs

but the lines are not there to flaunt themselves. They are an assembly of words called on to negotiate the fine line between succumbing to life’s onslaughts and prevailing over them.

The poems confront memories, experiences, places, and people from a chilling personal history, but there’s no self-pity here. There is grief and grief and grief, but there is also grit. And joy. And love.

The collection is not in chronological order, for chronology doesn’t supply any order here. The past lies in ambush throughout a lifetime, demanding constant alertness to its potential tyrannies, but over and again, the poet fights back.

The poetry itself is one of her defences, but it tells also of strength found in nature, in people, and in reflection; the reader can only admire the skill with which the fine line is walked. And written.

Sometimes in winter, love causes

tuneless voices to sing

like spring-time birds.