Poetry review – maybe i’ll call gillian anderson
Kate Noakes finds much to enjoy in Rhian Elizabeth’s reflections upon life after a child leaves home
maybe i’ll call gillian anderson
Rhian Elizabeth
Broken Sleep Books
ISBN 9781917617062
£9.99
Waving your child off to University and then discovering what happens next is the theme of this 2025 pamphlet from Wales’ premier poetry publisher. The word ‘premier’is appropriate in that Broken Sleep Books has just won the Small Press of the Year award for Wales. Bravo! Their books are beautifully produced on the sort of paper that makes you want to run your fingers over it. But then, I’m biased, as Aaron Kent kindly did a pamphlet for me in 2024.
In the title poem, Elizabeth mourns her daughter’s departure ‘into the vast, calling sky of her life’and observes that it takes some getting used to. So, to stave off weeping, she decorates her daughter’s bedroom and gathers ‘the shells left in the empty nest evermore known/ as the spare room.’ She also ‘wander(s) the house in funereal silence… (then) screaming: alexa, what the fuck am I meant to do now.’
I like poems that say fuck, often and always appropriately, and there’s plenty of those here, but never once did its use feel lazy or unnecessary, but rather, well controlled.
In addition to this overarching theme, Elizabeth explores and explains her own history: becoming a mother as a teenager; her own sexuality, which desire is where Gillian Anderson comes in. However, spoiler alert, she didn’t call her as the final poem explains, ‘because, you know, / i don’t have her fucking phone number.’ The poems also deal with past relationships, key incidents in her daughter’s childhood, and her perception of herself as old when approaching forty. That last one made me chuckle. Not yet, sweetheart!
The poems display good variety of styles and forms, including prose poems, broken epistles, repetitions reminiscent of a ghazal, experiments in spacing and punctuation and so on. Her titles are interesting too from tantalising single words to such longer ones as ‘drowning on a stranger’s couch,’ and ‘to the girl who said i’ll never to be happy because i’m too picky.’ I especially enjoyed Elizabeth’s light touch storytelling and use of different locations ranging from Sweden to Amsterdam, Scotland to London and back to Wales.
Try not to read this collection while you are hungry as you’ll be salivating for herring and bread, lobster, cake and coffee. Try not to worry too much about the drinking that causes embarrassing and weird things to happen – Elizabeth gives up that vice. And try too not to be put off by the lack of capitalisation. It grates with me, but may not for you. Otherwise, dive in and enjoy Elizabeth’s urgent and energetic poems, and her relationship with her daughter, which, she concludes, is ‘the only thing/ i ever did right.’
Mar 13 2026
London Grip Poetry Review – Rhian Elizabeth
Poetry review – maybe i’ll call gillian anderson
Kate Noakes finds much to enjoy in Rhian Elizabeth’s reflections upon life after a child leaves home
maybe i’ll call gillian anderson
Rhian Elizabeth
Broken Sleep Books
ISBN 9781917617062
£9.99
Waving your child off to University and then discovering what happens next is the theme of this 2025 pamphlet from Wales’ premier poetry publisher. The word ‘premier’is appropriate in that Broken Sleep Books has just won the Small Press of the Year award for Wales. Bravo! Their books are beautifully produced on the sort of paper that makes you want to run your fingers over it. But then, I’m biased, as Aaron Kent kindly did a pamphlet for me in 2024.
In the title poem, Elizabeth mourns her daughter’s departure ‘into the vast, calling sky of her life’and observes that it takes some getting used to. So, to stave off weeping, she decorates her daughter’s bedroom and gathers ‘the shells left in the empty nest evermore known/ as the spare room.’ She also ‘wander(s) the house in funereal silence… (then) screaming: alexa, what the fuck am I meant to do now.’
I like poems that say fuck, often and always appropriately, and there’s plenty of those here, but never once did its use feel lazy or unnecessary, but rather, well controlled.
In addition to this overarching theme, Elizabeth explores and explains her own history: becoming a mother as a teenager; her own sexuality, which desire is where Gillian Anderson comes in. However, spoiler alert, she didn’t call her as the final poem explains, ‘because, you know, / i don’t have her fucking phone number.’ The poems also deal with past relationships, key incidents in her daughter’s childhood, and her perception of herself as old when approaching forty. That last one made me chuckle. Not yet, sweetheart!
The poems display good variety of styles and forms, including prose poems, broken epistles, repetitions reminiscent of a ghazal, experiments in spacing and punctuation and so on. Her titles are interesting too from tantalising single words to such longer ones as ‘drowning on a stranger’s couch,’ and ‘to the girl who said i’ll never to be happy because i’m too picky.’ I especially enjoyed Elizabeth’s light touch storytelling and use of different locations ranging from Sweden to Amsterdam, Scotland to London and back to Wales.
Try not to read this collection while you are hungry as you’ll be salivating for herring and bread, lobster, cake and coffee. Try not to worry too much about the drinking that causes embarrassing and weird things to happen – Elizabeth gives up that vice. And try too not to be put off by the lack of capitalisation. It grates with me, but may not for you. Otherwise, dive in and enjoy Elizabeth’s urgent and energetic poems, and her relationship with her daughter, which, she concludes, is ‘the only thing/ i ever did right.’