Alan Roddick Bücher

Anita Roddick admits that she knew nothing about business when, at 33, she opened her first Body Shop in Brighton with a bank loan of u4000. Now there are 570 Body Shops in 37 different countries and there will be 1000 before the next century. This book describes the way in which she has achieved this success. Turning conventional business wisdom on its head, the Body Shop spends no money on advertising or designing expensive packaging, but invests time, money and manpower on a range of vital humanist and environmental issues. It has also set up highly successful industries in threatened areas of the Third World - and quite literally, saved whole communities."

After establishing a poetic presence on the literary scene in the early 1960s, Dunedin's Alan Roddick published his first collection, The Eye Corrects: Poems 1955-1965, in 1967. A mere 49 years later comes the sequel, Getting it Right. Poet C.K. Stead writes in Shelf Life (AUP, 2016) that he has always been "a great admirer of the economy and the quiet, sharp wit of [Roddick's] writing ... Alan Roddick is a 'cool' poet, a temperament that seems reserved, controlled, decent, funny and intelligent; a craftsman not a showman, with a fine musical ear, whose work is dependable and of the highest order. And as well as witty and clever work, there are poems that catch moments of deep feeling; and equally of exhilaration, such as the ten-year-old Alan standing up on the seat, his head through the sunroof of his father's car that is cruising downhill, 'pushing 40' with the engine off to save petrol, 'drunk with the scent of heather and whin / that airy silence ...' Alan Roddick is writing as well as any New Zealand poet currently at work on the scene. It is wonderful to have him back - something to celebrate!"

Writing from the eighth and ninth decades of his life, Alan Roddick's third collection of poetry, Next, examines the past, observes the present and speculates on the future. Here is poetry that delights in warmth, humour, wit and grace, that revels in the beauty of the world, that insists on 'anticrepuscular rays' at twilight even as it's asking the niggling question: 'Tomorrow, though? ...'