‘a most impressive first book . . . intelligent, good-humoured and very gifted’
— Ben Sonnenberg, Thumbscrew
Sleepwalking, a skinned rabbit, litter, a Chinese play, and an Irish alchemist are just some of the subjects of David Wheatley’s first book.
Containing poems of childhood, travel, rural and, in particular, urban experience, Thirst submits the familiar and the strange alike to the workings of an enquiring, restless sensibility. A distinctive and formally assured debut, the collection is ultimately unified — as its title suggests — by a thirst for experience in all its richness and variety.