Cowper and His Poetry Book

Maybe it's all in the timing. I fully expected to like this, having liked him in both novel and play form. But I started this immediately after Waiting for the Barbarians, and the juxtaposition made it so painfully trite in the most unbearably bourgeois way that I was compelled to stop just a little way in.

Maybe I should leave it on the shelf for a few years and come back to it, but I'm pretty sure I don't have enough time in my bookreading life left. So it is getting the gong; may it find an appreciative reader in my local English church's booksale.