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Following the frank, subversive, and very funny poems in his first two books, these poems occupy a more rueful, reflective space, a darker place where disintegration and loss are the only certainties, and memory the only solid ground.

Like Neil Rollinson's earlier books, Talking Dead is a refreshment of the senses: lifting the lid on the human condition in a heartfelt celebration of the act of being, whether in moments of love or mortality, sex or feasting.
In the central sequence of the book -- a meditation on the space between life and death -- the dead speak of their final earthly moments with a liberating sense of fascination, and a luminous awe. Elsewhere we enjoy al fresco sex, astronomy via many pints in the Cat and Fiddle, and the deliverance of an Indian monsoon after weeks of thirst and drought....