As is indicated by the subtitle "Poems New and Selected," this collection brings together poems that were in several previous books and appeared in numerous anthologies. It can be regarded as a cross-section of the author's work extending over two decades, and yet each of its two parts largely occupies a common thematic ground. The first, "True to Life," could almost as well be entitled "True to Art," in that more than half of its 24 poems are homages to fellow creators for whose true-to-life artistry Iskov expresses admiration that is united with much personal affection. Most of the 41 poems in the "Every Human Exchange" section present portraits of non-literary family members, relatives, friends and other figures, both realistic ("The Trucker on the 401") and imagined ("Spirit Woman"). Intimate perceptions of individual people, accompanied by the presence of the author herself, thus figure in the majority of the poems in both sections.

Even more than subject matter, the author's style and voice energize and help to bind the collection. Iskov's approaches are invariably fresh, often quirky or somewhat offbeat, and never tame or predictable in manner. A sensibility sharply observant yet also able to take a dreamily fanciful turn. But one always feels an essential warmheartedness, whether the voice is moved to praise or to mourn and lament. Striking phrases draw the reader into inward psychological landscapes, which range from the levelly literal (and still lively, as in "Kitchen Table Flashback"), or far-flung and far afield (as in "The Superstitious Moon"). Added treats derive from a charming aptitude for melding the abstract and the concrete, the physical with the metaphorical, as in the poem to Peggy Fletcher: "She swooned over long-stemmed ideas/ while strolling barefoot in her garden." From a knack, too, for fusing light with kinetic imagery ("Carnivorous rhythms strobed the dance floor."), or heat with sound (a bus driver's "motorized cauldron is heated/ by conversation"), or object, sound and landscape ("the embroidery sings/ the tranquil tones of earth and sky").

Fellow poets and poetry lovers will initially be inclined to dwell on the first section, where they will recognize many of the figures to whom Iskov pays homage. Her choices of poets to honour reveal a lot about the kinds of writing that have influenced her own, and about what she most values in the artform and in the personas of these esteemed practitioners. None is placed on a pedestal. Instead, in varying degrees, each is treated as a cherished mentor and beloved friend, whether this was a classic writer from a previous era, a middle-distant acquaintance or a close compatriot. Their names comprise a stellar list. It includes Canlit giants Earle Birney, P.K. Page, and Raymond Souster; fellow travellers of considerable distinction, like Mick Burrs and Ellen Jaffe, who passed away only recently and too soon; and gifted friends who are still with us, such as Katherine L. Gordon and Elana Wolff. Two engaging tributes are bestowed on the co-founder of T.O.P.S., Ted Plantos, whose body of work and generous devotion to poetry across Canada deserves much greater recognition. In characterizing the art and personalities of these writers, Iskov ingeniously incorporates phrases from their work and excels at custom-tailoring the language of every presentation to its subject. She is also adept at conjuring an apt strangeness, notably in her poems on Neruda ("I envision impossible cities,/ raucous laughter and small teary-eyed dramas// flourishing in domestic empires/ with volumes and volumes of blue and fire."); on painter and festive hostess Frida Kahlo; and on Virginia Wolff, who "nonchalantly dips her hair in pooled moonlight/ to drip-paint the stars drizzling over India."

Toward the end of the section, Iskov's own poetry is vividly likened, in "The Jewish Side of the Poem," to a bouquet of dried flowers in a vase: "I press dried phrases of pink and beige/ between the stanzas/ to make them flat." Of course, this is the flatness of the printed page: as the writing itself here and elsewhere is anything but mundanely "flat." Indeed (to quote the final line of the last poem in the book), this poet's idiom revels "in the sheer pleasure of angles."

Most, but by no means all, of the angularities in the longer second section concern people with whom the author has an entirely personal, not literary, relationship. Her parents, her brother, other relatives, and longtime friends are multi-sidedly portrayed. There are reminiscences of those who are long departed, so some are elegiac in mood, while others are straightforward character sketches in recent times. Strong images gather in support: "Memory is stubbly grass, dry leaves,/ a blank page/ collected in clear plastic"; "aromas of my mother's meals come wafting/ through peelings"; "and you, my first crush/ glided across an endless sea of grey-blue floor/ and asked me to dance." Single passages can combine the lyrically contemplative and the nostalgic with ironic frankness and chords of pathos and tragedy. This is especially true in the five autobiographical poems about herself and her parents, beginning with "After I Was Born." In that poem the lines "Impossible contradictions painted my skin,/ between existence and enchantment,/ years coagulated into colours" are qualified later by "I am caught off-guard/ every time I shed skin. There are always shades/ of indifference." Frankness and reconciliation coalesce in "My Father's Heat," as the speaker recalls "rage" and "fiery tantrums" while looking at photos showing a "protective arm" and "beaming grin," concluding: "but what I know for sure/ is that he still displays his jovial sense of humour/ even now/ that he's a ghost." A few poems travel far ("Runaway Iceberg" and "The Dead Sea") and not very far ("Highway Eleven") and others broach quite different subjects besides persons and places, contemplating creatures such as primates and an oak tree and a bluebird, while still others venture attractively into imagined realms ("Moonlight Dancing" and "Give Me Back My Magical Kingdom"), reminding us that this book is an assemblage of work by an author of wide scope and admirable versatility. Iskov's Jewishness is also of the essence and comes to the fore in several poems in both sections, in ways that will be moving and meaningful to all readers. Dashes of humour are interspersed, as in the poems about the author's hunting-obsessed brother, who, among the guests at a resort in Mexico, "shoots the breeze about shooting the deer." A further notable presence, not only in the three poems that have it in their titles, but in many others, is that of the Moon. The treatments are diverse and evocative, amounting (along with water and clouds) to something of a leitmotif. To me, this has a potent effect on an intuitive level and signifies the cosmic, tidal pull of the imagination on everyone alive, not just poets.

Any Selected Poems must include plenty of individual standouts, while the collection as a whole represents the full range and variety of an entire body of work: producing the sense of exceeding the sum of its parts. And the book ought to spur interest in encountering more of the author's work, past and future. In my opinion, One Place the Light Remains achieves all that – befittingly so, for someone who has made such enormous, unselfish contributions to fellow poets and to poetry in Canada. To order your copy, go to mosaicpress.ca.