Mind, My Invisible Dog, is a reservoir of inspiration. Hughes draws on words as if they are liquid feelings. Meaning and authenticity are richly and craftily pursued, creating big, airy structures like the poet Frank O’Hara pioneered, combined with the restless and contemplative pools of thought that Octavio Paz so eloquently distilled. Intertwining these and other elements in a collection of personal fealty and adversarial provocations, the poems and prose salaciously possess a candid, no holds barred, and insightful and honeyed audacity.
Hughes’ poetic touchstones, particularly his mischievous alter ego, Fadder, drink in the vernacular brogue and colourful attitudes of pub tap rooms, making the gentrified world of Oslo and other environs collide with the realms the writers Patrick Kavanagh and Charles Bukowski so richly beatified. He makes burnished observations about love and dreams, hate and nightmares, and takes his soul's social contract and his mind for a sublime walk.