[Rory Waterman]

I actually reviewed Rain for Agenda, though I'd rather none of you read it, as it is rickety and contains at least one horrible error ('always not' for 'not always'. Ouch). I think Rain is a very fine book, though I wish Paterson's poems didn't so frequently have a tendency to withdraw at the last minute. The title poem is a good example. It is beautifully written, starts with a punch or ten, but boils down to a vague and disappointing nothing ('And none of this, none of this, matters', or something like that). A little masterpiece pedestrianised. Some of the poems are masterful, though. 'The Swing', for example, or 'Two Trees'. And the Donaghy sequence is one of the most powerful 'new' poems I've read in a long time. He's less good when he tries to be too clever, or abstruse. I'm not sure what some of his poems mean and they don't make me want to work them out. The blank poem is a little too papery for my tastes. Actually, when you know who it is about even that wins you over.

I think God's Gift to Women was one of the first poetry books I bought at the time it came out. I was about sixteen. I've lapped up Paterson's books ever since, and always felt the same burning admiration tinged with irritation. Yes, he knows how to win prizes. A friend of mine was one of his MA students at St Andrews. Apparently Paterson is the most ruthlessly motivated and driven individual he's ever met. When I saw him give a reading a few months ago he was charming, but read very badly at about six decibels. A fairly severe cold certainly didn't help him. Still, he stuck it out and so did we.

As for the rhymes and metrical quirks and kinks: the only more famous poetical Dundonian is, of course, a certain William McGonagall. And I think he (er, Paterson) is a fine critic. I love the essay in his sonnet anthology, though I presume some here would disagree about his definition of what counts as a sonnet.

Rory