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This collection was evenly uneven. The first 2/3 (aside from the first poem which I enjoyed) was so seeped in ancient myth and form that aside from admiring the craft there was little to get excited about. The first 2/3 of poems were seeped in reference and allusion, much of it far too inaccessible.
However, in that final 1/3, when the poems became more grounded and Heaney began eulogizing other poet friends such as Joseph Brodsky and Ted Hughes, the collection really grabbed a hold of me and I found a number of poems that I greatly appreciated. Heaney is one of my 2 or 3 favorite poets of all time, and I've been floored by most of his work, especially in the earlier collections. This was one of his last, and grouped among his final 3 or 4 books which really took on a life that lost some of its charm. That said, there was much to enjoy about the latter portion of this collection.