Bradfield's poems are stocked full of unfamiliar words, statistically-improbable phrases, sonorous lines, shapely stanzas, endearing arguments and compelling personalities. Her recurring subjects wear much better than her recurring tropes. I am partial to her senses of incongruity, outlaw difference, and sheer perverse terror and delight in bad language… She has a touch of that sublime regret we've required, since forever… we rely on critics to recommend writers … I see something in this book. I hope Bradfield continues to develop and change. Nature certainly doesn't seem to be slowing down, and we're going to need poets like Bradfield to keep reminding us of that, and a lot else besides.
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