Comments

• "Phil Hall's familiar verbal quirkiness, his off-beat images, and his ear for the colloquial voice engage us in an exploration which is as uniquely personal as it is intensely political. Hall desires to move beyond our culture's narrow, self-defeating definition of "manhood." But his is not an easy, post-feminist journey, for he makes us face a harder reality: such cultural definitions cling to us as fiercely as we cling to them."
       —Bronwen Wallace
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• "These poems make the reader tough again."
       —Erin Mouré
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• "The rigour of Hall's self-examination shows us how much inner life can be regained by facing up to damage and loss."
       —John Donlan
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• "Half a poem by Phil Hall and you know you're reading the real thing, every word pulling its weight . . . Painful? Certainly. Also powerful and beautiful. It takes great courage to find and publish such buried hurt of body and soul, and it takes great craft to heal the wound in the very words that open it."
       —Stan Dragland
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• "I read your poem (about the trees and the chainsaw) to my lover who doesn't read poetry, especially not poetry by men. She said, "Read that to me again!" "
       —Anne Cameron
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• "Hall takes us on an intense journey to the past, describing a childhood with words that glow like "candled china". He writes this like no one else does, with insight and a "warm ghost thrill.""
       —Don Domanski
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Phil Hall's works copyright © to the author.