I know nothing about Felix Dennis excepting what the flap on the book tells me: that he's an "enfant terrible" of magazine publishing and one of Britain's richest men--which of course made me wonder, Then why in hell is he writing poetry?

The answer is: because he's damn well good at it.

I was sceptical. I thought this was, perhaps, a rich old guy amusing himself with dreams of being some big literary star. But whatever else he is--rich and whatnot--Dennis is a literary star in his own right.

I was prepared not to like him, but right away the book's preface and author's notes forced me to grudgingly concede that this guy was. . . pretty cool. Then again, at that stage the poetry remained to be seen, so I was still reserving judgment.

But the poetry blew me away. It all rhymes--at first I wasn't sure how I felt about that. But Dennis doesn't write in bad or sloppy rhyme. No, he hearkens back to the old pros (even invoking them at times): Dorothy Parker, Edna St. Vincent Millay, William Blake and the like. Every poem Dennis writes has good rhythm; none of it is stilted. He makes it look easy--damn him!

One might think a book of rhyming poems would get boring, but not A Glass Half Full. The assortment of topics, anecdotes, and memories that Dennis pours into his writing make for an intriguing mix. I didn't tire of the poems and their rhymes at all; in fact, I couldn't put the book down.

And for those who might not be able to do with just text, A Glass Half Full is (somewhat disturbingly) illustrated by Bill Sanderson.

Not since Stephen Dobyns' Cemetery Nights have I so enjoyed a collection of poems by a contemporary poet. Just one question remains: what took Dennis so long to come out as a poet? and are there more where these came from? God, I hope so!