Feinstein's poems allow us intimate access to the fears and consolations of family life, particularly in her moving elegies to her parents and the stringent yet tender poems about her long and "bumpy" marriage. Feinstein has said "People have always been the centre of my concerns," and this statement is borne out in work that, whilst revealing the ambivalence of our relations with others, also records our rare moments of grace which flower unexpectedly like the cactus' "blare of red" in 'June'. She is aware that such moments are a reprieve or, as she puts it in 'Getting Older', "every day won from such/darkness is a celebration." That darkness is ever-present, be it personal loss or the long shadow of the Holocaust, but it's also what gives her poems their urgency, as it does for the dying owner of the laundrette in 'Urban Lyric' who "is made alert to the day's beauty,/as if her terror had wakened poetry."
Feinstein's voice moves slowly through the emotional complexities of her poems, reflecting their measured pace, the discipline of their line breaks, and the pauses she uses on the page to allow time for her words to sink in. The cumulative effect is very moving and intimate - as if she is taking us into her confidence.
Her recording was made for The Poetry Archive on 17 September 2002 at The Audio Workshop, London and was produced by Richard Carrington.