Language prowls, circling, doubling back, tethered by "technical serenity" (that perfect phrase Derek Walcott uses when writing of Lowell’s poetry).
Technique has always been Thayil’s friend. Unobtrusive, supportive, here, as in his earlier work, it is the backbone that makes his poems supple and strong. What is new is the range, the urgency. Where English embodied a cool sophistication, These Errors Are Correct is not afraid to, occasionally, raise its head and howl. And yet, it bristles also with a laconic, sometimes sardonic humour. And towards the end of the volume, in Sonnets for the Mouth, it slips, slides, runs, rips into the nature of utterance—cruel, greedy, promiscuous, where "Everything, everyone goes into that mouth."
Oh, and if you’re wondering about the title, the clue isn’t to be found in the typos (some) but on the CD tucked into the back-flap. Enjoy.
