Fred D’Aguiar (b. 1960) draws on his dual Guyanese/British heritage throughout his writing which incorporates poetry, novels and plays. Although born in London, he lived in Guyana until he was twelve before returning to England where the highly politicised atmosphere of the British black community of the 60s and 70s became a major influence on his work. His first collection of poetry, Mama Dot, was published to great acclaim and was followed by a further four collections and a new and selected poems, An English Samplar, published in 2001. His position between two cultures is reflected in the many prizes his work has won including the Guyana Poetry prize (twice) and the Whitbread First Novel Award. D’Aguiar is currently Professor of English and Co-Director of the MFA in Creative Writing at the Virginia Technical Institute and State University.

D’Aguiar has written “home is always elsewhere” and this sense of dislocation is at the heart of his writing, in particular the complex legacy of slavery and colonialism. These themes have been developed and extended in his two most recent collections, Bill of Rights about the Jonestown tragedy, and Bloodlines which traces the relationship between a white man and a black slave, taking politically charged language – blood, skin, slave, union, freedom – and making it an experience of the utmost physical intimacy: “The two of us slaving for the wages/of sin; consumed by touch that hungers/for more touch, that can never be assuaged.” Both these later collections mark a stylistic shift for D’Aguiar in his use of the book-length poem. Written in ottava rime ‘Bloodlines’ is a major technical achievement. The form, which rhymes abababcc, has a rolling energy that carries the narrative forward whilst D’Aguiar’s skilful employment of internal and half rhyme avoids monotony and allows for subtle shifts in tone. Perhaps in the interplay of alternating rhymes and concluding couplets can also be seen the deeper thematic patterns of the book, its passionate exploration of what divides us, balanced by a hope for unity: “We share the night,/we share the day. I am black, you are white.”