The eponymous piece of this collection is its crowning glory and it left me wishing Baird had written a collection of short prose rather than poetry. This short piece immediately transports the reader into a twilight zone between reality and distortion. The end is utterly bizarre but in a way which shows where Baird’s talent truly lies. His style his unique and original.
Unfortunately, this flare does not permeate the collection as a whole. The poetry itself is pedestrian – never moving beyond the surface. The images lack substance and the originality which flows throughout ‘The Girl in the Purple Room’. Consequently, the majority of this collection is cliched and fails to elicit any reaction at times from its reader. I found much of it forgettable, bar the final, eponymous tale.
Thus, I still believe Baird’s collection is worth reading for this reason. There is no denying the talent which bubbles beneath the surface and I hope that the future brings a short story collection from Baird.