NEW HOPE INTERNATIONAL REVIEW ON-LINE

This 2004 collection of nearly 200 pages of poetry and prose, with a few reviews, is well served by the black and white drawings of the illustrator D.Crockett.

Much of the content is in traditional literary style. The statement of purpose tells us the journal

is committed to providing an artistic forum for quality fiction, essays and verse which celebrate the nobler, more spiritual aspects of Man, the World. and their Creator.

THE ORACLE. Reviews from the mouth of the Delphic Apollo — as divined by his favourite child — the Prophet: Michael M. Pendragon

The articles appear more interesting than the poems, and divide into Fiction and Essays. Ian Deal's essay AN ERA OF TRUTH raises questions of eternal truths of states of consciousness and what science has done to help us understand reality, the cosmos &c, although there is no universal belief in the Aquarian Age. Ian tells us that

the empirical approach, upon which the scientific method is based, can only examine the concrete phenomena . . .

I enjoyed the historical fiction AS THE SPIRIT LEADS, of editor Pendragon. Though somewhat drawn out it is the confessional of one of those who sailed to the New World a bit later than the original voyagers who reached it in 1692. Jon Lawson was accompanied by his parents and aunt Elvina, landing in 1689. Tormented between religious fervour and fleshly passion for his aunt, and in the atmosphere of Salem witch hunting, he feels he should poison her to save his soul from what he sees as her witchery, prompted by a God-voice. Elvina's death plays on his mind to the extent that he comes to believe that the voices were those of imps from hell, and that he himself was the devil's pawn. Hence the confession.

LISTEN TO THE TREES by Sue Parman is fiction, set in wintry Wales, a very strange Wales where influences of trees predominate in the history of the community. Singing breaks out (I thought sometimes over-technically described for the reader's comfort):

. . . Emyr drew a deep breath, and wondered if some day he would open his mouth and there would be no air to breathe. Beside him, he heard Seton Jones do the same, and they burst forth with an ascending tonic, changed to a seamless subdominant and dominant. Seton Jones taking the first note, Emyr sliding to a third above him . . .

There is no porter in Bwlch, dear, and no servants. We all have the same job. We sing to the trees and Emyr is our song shepherd.

It is not possible to adequately comment on all the other articles, they are all readable, some a little too simplistic, others take the reader with them, engagingly, until the end.

Of the poetry, on the negative side, Rossmé Taylor provides three SONNETS FOM THE ANTIQUE, two of 16 lines and one of 17. I thought the editor might have disallowed the title. Jane Stuart's A YEAR'S DREAM COMES TRUE has a subtitle (Sestina) when it is only a sestet of six lines. The other announced fixed form is the successful RONDEL by Phillip Ellis. YOU REMEMBER LAKE WINDEMERE? by Richard Alan Bunch is mis-spelled. More positively VISITING THE ANASAZI RUINS by Frederick Zydec was a reminder that we in the UK should know more about the prehistory of the native American Indian:

	They were the stargazers and architects 
	of antiquity. These mud and stone castles
	mounted in the mouth of this enormous
	cave were once the centre of a universe
	that earned its living next door to ours

	. . .  Spirea and 
	yellow roses circled the earth under
	stars. A silver apple moon ... 
			...  We          
	wanted the stars on our skin, the
	small green apples to hang over
	the blanket to protect us from bats.

	At twight, evening, night,
	mist masses from the marshes        
	musk of bear and troll decants