The poems in this book are undeniably fruitious and wild. They embody language as a growing, sensate thing. Each line quivers like an open ended nerve, and every line begins as if thought has just begun. In the end we begin all over. These poems are process and observation compressed into the moment before expansion. This is the mind cracked open to reveal an anthill of words.
MillAr writes in a taut shorthand that combines the observational precision of a naturalist with a postmodernist interest in how language shapes our perceptions... But [he] doesn't abandon traditional lyricism altogether; indeed, he has a knack for ear-pleasing, evocative phrasing. In False Maps for Other Creatures, MillAr doesn't offer infallible paths of meaning through his meditations on place. But he does invite readers to make their own connections and discoveries.
MillAr... is able to unite very theoretical concepts and the concerns of much avant-garde poetry with the form and concerns of otherwise conventional lyric poems... By drawing attention both to the landscape and the underlying structures at work in the creation of this landscape and its artistic depiction, MillAr has produced an excellent collection of occasional poems that are minimal in their execution and structurally impressive. The poems in False Maps for Other Creatures are dense but enjoyable, precise and flawless.
[MillAr's poem] "Let's Call These Poems St. Clair Avenue" blows the whole project of intellect away, deconstructs what's left of the project of civilization, blows it back to the womb, in fact, right back into the foetus ... [False Maps is] thoughtful, best read not as a series of lyrics or narratives, but as a portfolio of maps, to be spread out on a table and read with a compass with four south poles.
...a stimulating and tight collection, well worth picking up.