Fotheringhay and other poems  

Rockingham Press, 1995,£ 6.95, ISBN 1-873468-30-X

The opening of Fotheringhay: Poem  

‘There is hope for civilised, contemporary reflection in our time with the publication of a book like Fotheringhay. Greening has such a good word-touch, a feel for the tactility of words, and an excellent ear for arranging them phrase by phrase.  The centrepiece of this volume, and that which really should have been incorporated in its title, is the remarkable 32-part, conversationally toned ‘Huntingdonshire Eclogues’... What is most remarkable of all in ‘Huntingdonshire Eclogues’ is the way they focus primarily on, and form, a complete domestic world: a microcosm constituted of a specific landscape and an individual life (the author’s) which yields a variety of both historical and contemporary concerns.  If ever there was a good demonstration of Arnold’s thesis that poetry is a ‘criticism of life’, it is this sequence...   An altogether accomplished collection, and one that is thoroughly civilised; no one who has a real interest in important poetry should miss reading ‘Huntingdonshire Eclogues’’

William Oxley, Acumen


‘For readers who know something of the Huntingdonshire landscape, the flashes and splinters of myth, anecdote and scenery will hold an added bonus... Greening’s use of the long line in the ‘Eclogues’ allows his human tragi-comedy and wit to shine through ...  It is a sense of insecurity and the presence of unsafe landscapes which make his ‘other poems’ such a resounding success’

Rennie Parker, Critical Survey


Huntingdonshire Eclogues, a series of thirty-two, published over the last five years, each complete in itself, together forming an assured longer poem, penetrating, rich, masterly.’

Barbara Rennie, Envoi


‘Quietly effective explorations of half-remembered places’

Neil Powell, Poetry Review


‘A refreshing alternative to the American voice so common now... I have been impressed by, among other qualities, the historical range of the poems and their unfailing objectivity.’

John Haines, Hudson Review