"I can't bear the thought of a world without Michael Longley, yet his
poetry keeps hurtling towards that fact more and more urgently as it
stretches in an unflinching way beyond comfort or certainty." So wrote
Maria Johnston, reviewing Longley's previous book, Angel Hill. Yet
The Candlelight Master does not only face into shadows. The title poem
sums up the chiaroscuro of this collection, named after a mysterious
Baroque painter. Other poems about painters--Matisse, Bonnard--imply
that age makes the quest for artistic perfection all the more vital. A
poem addressed to the eighth-century Japanese poet, Otomo Yakamochi,
says: "We gaze on our soul-landscapes / More intensely with every year."
The soul-landscape of The Candlelight Master is often a landscape of
memory. But if Longley looks back over formative experiences, and over
the forms he has given them, he channels memory into freshly fluid
structures. His new poems about war and the Holocaust speak to our own
dark times. Translation brings dead poets up to date, too. The bawdy of
Catullus becomes Scots "Hochmagandy." Yakamochi and the lyric poets of
Ancient Greece find themselves at home in Longley's Carrigskeewaun.