Poetry, prose, and everything in between playing with mood, energy, lighting, history, emotion, and death.

Max Porter as always finds ways to express exactly what he wants to put across whether or not you’re ready to read it.

A visceral exploration of Francis Bacon’s dying moments explored through playful and combative language, this has a passion that seems to go beyond what was brought to play in ‘Lanny’ and ‘Grief is the Thing with Feathers’, both of which I felt were some of the best writing I’e ever read.

But in going beyond seems to have lost some of the more reflective parts of Max’s writing, due to the brevity of the piece this feels far more immediate. Though the immediacy of the writing gives it a desperate pace as though of one dying and fading.

As always I really enjoyed this work from Max Porter and can’t wait for more.