This is a series of farming poems written by Hughes during the time when he had a small farm in Devon. They are most of them pretty grim. As Hughes says himself, in one of the notes at the back, "The bulk of these pieces, I'm aware, concern the nursing if not the emergency hospital side of animal husbandry. All sheep, lambs, and calves are patients: something in them all is making a steady effort to die." A lot of those deaths are chronicled here, and it seems as if Hughes's farming life consists of wading through a sea of mud, shit, blood, and birthing fluids, all while remaining as unsentimental as possible. There's a few times my vegetarian self actually winced at some of the images - this is one of those collections that I admire rather than like, if that makes sense. There was, however, one poem that I did like very much, and which is actually my favourite Hughes poem thus far. "Sheep, Part I" is excellent. Yes, it's about death: a premature lamb that seems to have no interest in life and subsequently dies, but it's beautifully written and strangely appealing.

Now, having binged three collections from Hughes in the past week or so, I'm off him for a while. Time for a change, I think.