'witty, nuanced, urbane' Clark Allison, Stride Magazine
'Vilas is an accomplished, freewheeling storyteller, forever leading his readers into unexpected byways...James Womack's translations of these beguiling narrative poems, selected from two of Vilas' collections published in 2000 and 2008, are so vivid, natural-seeming and alert to every nuance and shade of feeling that they scarcely register as translations at all.' Paul Bailey, Literary Review
'James Womack's translations are immaculate distillations of Vilas... Vilas' poems are long and decadent affairs, euphoric tales of drunken debauchery told through a first person narrative.' Charlie Baylis, Stride Magazine
'wild, exuberant lines that strain against convention' David Starkey, Santa Barbara Independent
'With an ear finely tuned to colloquial speech and a knack for deadpan delivery, Womack gives Vilas' poems a thoroughly convincing new life in English' Jennifer Barber, The Critical Flame
'For those up for high octane, X-rated journeys around the western Mediterranean, without leaving the house, those wanting sun, sea, sex, souvenirs and junk food from the comfort of their armchair, Manuel Vilas is your man.' Paul Stephenson, The North 66
'The poems of Spanish writer Manuel Vilas invite you into his hotel room. You sit on the edge of his bed while he tells you about his drinking, his despondency, his sexual escapades. He tells you what he's been pondering lately: tourism, Catholicism, Nietzsche, money, Spain, favorite song lyrics, his car, his dog, his brand-new switchblade. He is by turns tongue-in-cheek, hyperbolic, comical, rueful, outrageous, ironic, melancholic, and soul-baring. And you realize something: you want to hear it all.Thanks to British poet and translator James Womack, you can. With an ear finely tuned to colloquial speech and a knack for deadpan delivery, Womack gives Vilas' poems a thoroughly convincing new life in English.[...] The irresistible energy in so many of his poems carries the reader along, as does his willingness to hold a mirror to himself, or to a third-person persona called Manuel Vilas.' Jennifer Barber, Critical Flame