Dulcamara

Dulcamara is a curious collection that wears its title like a knowing smile. The name refers to the bittersweet nightshade, a plant that is both poisonous and medicinal, and this duality permeates Saxby's work: playful on the surface, unexpectedly profound beneath. The collection weaves together poetry and prose, ranging from whimsical verses that would charm a child to darker, more sardonic pieces that reward the adult reader. Humor runs through these pages like a current, sometimes gentle and absurd, other times sharp and wry. Yet Saxby is not merely amusing himself; there is an undertone of melancholy, a recognition that the world is strange and our place in it uncertain. The prose pieces vary in tone from miniature narratives to something closer to confession. What holds these disparate elements together is Saxby's distinctive voice: conversational, slightly off-kilter, always with an eye for the peculiar detail that makes the ordinary seem strange. This is a book to dip into, to return to, to discover new dimensions in with each reading.