Fergal Gaynor

I first paid proper attention to ‘Augustus Young’, and what the name stood for, when considering prospective poetry readers for one of the instalments of Trevor Joyce’s SoundEye Festival, in 2012. The name seemed to sound across a gap of four decades, out of that Irish literary scene that witnessed the North Star rise, pulling all into its orbit. But having met James, and kept up to date reading his work, I’m delighted to know him now as a contemporary writer, and have grown to appreciate that strange combination (often embedded in the autobiography of a Zelig-like life) of lightness, almost flippancy, with, barely felt, the hook of exact judgement. Bon anniversaire!

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The Duras Press

The Duras Press