In "Cantina Music," [from The Fortunate Traveller] Derek Walcott warns that poor people—like poor nations—may turn to violence and that lack of opportunity is responsible….

Unfortunately for his message, Walcott's "Traveller" is not new art but a good example of tiresome "respected" poetry. Not that I disagree with what he says; but poetically, his voyage relies entirely on previous charts. There's no personal experiment or development of equipment; no new hazards—and often little precision….

Walcott lags behind the artistic antennae of new work; nevertheless, he seems anxious to burst convention in a few poems, to sing what he knows. "The Hotel Normandie Pool" and especially "early Pompeiian," about his wife's miscarriage, are touching examples in which he dares to be precise, to trust in and respect the real things words designate. These pieces, and in spots the title poem, evince strong narrative, respect for content...