I read Love & Misadventure a few weeks ago, and Lang continues her story of love and loss here. I wonder if it's a story, anyway. I was reading this book and half of me was hoping she was making this all up and that it wasn't based on real life (I know nothing about the author, so either could be it). I hope this, basically, because this book is verging on obsession, on absolute monomania, and not in a good way. You know, that kind of grasping, desperate love that's just plain uncomfortable for everyone involved. If anyone ever wrote two collections like this about me I'd be looking for a safe house, is what I'm saying.

That being said I still enjoyed it, which says something about my tastes though I don't know precisely what and am not inclined to examine it too closely. There's more variety in the forms this time around, so although the A.A. Milne type of bouncy rhyme still exists, there are forays into prose and different structures, and this gives a welcome change of pace. I think the two poems I liked the best were actually prose, anyway: "Metamorphosis" and "Concentric Circles."