Description
Shark reaffirms the originality and depth of Terry Jaensch’s poetic vision. Here are poems that explore the territories of childhood, human relationships and the natural world, but never with anything less than an unsettling sense of what it means to be operating from the margins or entering the unspoken core. At once witty and affecting these poems of love and suffering are superbly honed, rigorous and above all emotionally resolute.
‘If it’s possible to fall in love with someone from their words alone, consider me smitten. Jaensch’s poems are captivating, thrilling and devastating. They’re somehow, at once, both vulnerable and muscular, sexy and embarrassing, scorchingly funny and guttingly sad, completely queer and wholly universal. If I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect Jaensch wrote these poems just to knock the wind out of us all.’ Benjamin Law, author of The Family Law and Gaysia
‘Reading Jaensch’s poems is like being haunted by beautiful ghosts – a bunch of unquiet souls who have the lightest of touches, even when they’re grabbing you by the throat.’
Kristin Henry, author of All The Way Home
Jaensch throws out a bravery, or maybe a bravado, above a vast underlying vulnerability. This is perhaps most obvious in the two orphanage sequences – the boy is fidgeting but the man looking back on his boyhood won’t flinch as he dismisses it as ‘equal parts adrenaline and tinea.’ Continually we are brought back to the proposition that the boy ‘mixes well’ … a relentless, largely joyless survival. The story of the struggle to get a television in the dorm is engrossing, progressively heartbreaking, desperately optimistic and brutally resilient.
The book design is a delight, Transit Lounge has made this publication an artefact of beauty. The work inside is a conflagration of worry and wonder.
Les Wicks, Cordite

