Tua Forsström’s I Walked On Into the Forest almost defeats commentary – the writing is so pure, transparent and direct that saying anything to or around it can seem worse than redundant. The whole book records the poet’s trying to come to terms with the death of her granddaughter, Vanessa. Almost all the twenty-one short, numbered poems of the first section address Vanessa in language one might use to a child. Three lines from one called ‘3’ can illustrate the sheer beauty and effortless resonance of the language, in David McDuff’s translation:

There are dreams that are more transparent … Continue Reading