

I think this was the first collection of Duffy's I read, after encountering her selected poems at GCSE. I think I liked them better now, though some of them still feel like copout cheap-shots, savagery for the sake of it.
The Anne Hathway sonnet is still the best:
“I hold him in the casket of my widow's head
as he held me upon that next best bed.“
(In Shakespeare's will, he gave his wife, Anne Hathaway, the second best bed.)