Apart from the magnificent Unholy Sonnets, 20 in number but misleadingly not from the book of that name, this book is the purest drivel. Jarman has a mordid fixation with death*, the most natural, necessary and preordained of things and something we cheerfully mete out daily in order to live**. There's a sublime piece of inanity from Karl Barth*** to give us all pause, it's surely 'ghost in the machine' Jarman means rather than 'god in the machine' (the elephant in the room being deus ex machina, a quite different beast), we have lots of family album stuff about his two daughters as cute li'l things but nothing about them 'grown', and his take on Proverbs manages to remove all the poetry, even the exquisite 'the way of a man with a maid'! Sorry, but this is portentous attitudinizing, the modern day equivalent of 19c devotional literature with added agonizing. Want soul-food? get ahold of King James (400 this year!) Want 'all about me'? there's a myriad memoirs out there. Want poetry? you've an infinitude of choices, but George Herbert, whom Jarman celebrates, is as good as it gets (I'd balance him with the more homely Herrick). If dead poets are kept in print you can bet it's for a reason, and one that shows there's more than one way of viewing mere dissolution of the flesh. Our deeds outlive us. Depressing prospect? Get out there!!
*It is precisely the fact that our lives a/ evolve (the 'I' does not exist) and b/ are circumscribed by death that gives them meaning. I prefer Stevie Smith's take on the whole shebang (death makes life bearable!)
**Something tells me Jarman's a carnivore; most Christians are (indeed most religions are founded on sacrifice, no doubt sometimes human)
***'Prayer exerts an influence upon God's action, *even upon his existence*' This is an omnipotent being we're talking about! While this is an intriguing claim, oddly reminiscent of Tinkerbell's in Peter Pan, what gives Barth the authority to make it? Does he know something we don't?