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kyatic's Reviews (974)
My main caveat here is that I'm just not sure it works as an anthology. The poems are designed to work and be read via Instagram, to be easily readable and digestible, and that's absolutely fine and a totally valid way to read and consume poetry. It just demands different things of the poet, much the same way that slam poetry often doesn't translate well onto the page; it doesn't make it worse poetry, it just means that it works best when read / listened to / otherwise consumed in its intended way.
This may well be a personal fault of mine, and if you generally like Instagram poetry then you'll absolutely love this one. There's a range of voices and subjects (although tw for sexual abuse in a lot of them) and some pretty imagery, and I do think that all of the poets in here have talent. I've since followed a few of them on Instagram (and am already following others). I'll probably reread it at some point and spend a bit more time with some of the poems, see if I can draw more out of them. It is by no means a bad book and I'm really glad that the poets in here can see themselves in print, and I think that there are works in here that will speak to a lot of people. I would be really interested in seeing a collaborative Instagram account of their works, for example (and the Mosaic Instagram account is really great for that reason.) I think it speaks to the fact that there's a prescriptivist view of poetry as being contained in the pages of a book and that this is the only and best way to read poetry. This book, to me, proves that poetry is a living thing and should be consumed in the way that best fits the poem, and to me that's not an anthology in this case.
Recommended for those who already like and read Instagram poetry, as well as to those who want to see what all the fuss is about, but I would probably recommend following all the poets on Instagram instead.
This may well be a personal fault of mine, and if you generally like Instagram poetry then you'll absolutely love this one. There's a range of voices and subjects (although tw for sexual abuse in a lot of them) and some pretty imagery, and I do think that all of the poets in here have talent. I've since followed a few of them on Instagram (and am already following others). I'll probably reread it at some point and spend a bit more time with some of the poems, see if I can draw more out of them. It is by no means a bad book and I'm really glad that the poets in here can see themselves in print, and I think that there are works in here that will speak to a lot of people. I would be really interested in seeing a collaborative Instagram account of their works, for example (and the Mosaic Instagram account is really great for that reason.) I think it speaks to the fact that there's a prescriptivist view of poetry as being contained in the pages of a book and that this is the only and best way to read poetry. This book, to me, proves that poetry is a living thing and should be consumed in the way that best fits the poem, and to me that's not an anthology in this case.
Recommended for those who already like and read Instagram poetry, as well as to those who want to see what all the fuss is about, but I would probably recommend following all the poets on Instagram instead.
ARC received in exchange for an honest review.
I really enjoyed and appreciated this collection. As soon as I realised it was an illustrated collection, I did begin to worry that it would be yet another Milk and Honey ripoff, but I'm glad that I was wrong. It was much, much more than that.
For me, possibly because I'm a Classicist, the poems about Aphrodite were by far the strongest. I would happily read a whole book of poetry from her point of view written by this author. Her voice was so incisive and brutal that whenever the 'poet' took over, I was almost disappointed. That's not to say that those poems were bad, but they seemed much less original; I've read Mateer's work before, and a lot of them could honestly have been copied and pasted from other collections. There's only so many ways to rewrite the same poem about self care and believing in yourself, I think.
For that reason, I much preferred the beginning of this collection. Although Mateer herself states that she's tired of writing poems about her trauma ('fuck another poem [...]') and wants to write about healing instead, the truth is that the poetry about healing was almost trite and much less original than the poetry about Medusa's violation, or Aphrodite's misrepresentation. That's by no means to say that poets should only write about darkness, but it almost felt like Mateer's heart wasn't in the latter half. As though she felt she should be writing a certain kind of collection which had a cohesive narrative from trauma to recovery. I may well be wrong about that, but it didn't feel as authentic to me.
That said, I did love how there was an over-arching theme in this collection. Leaving it on a positive note was a clever move, and it felt hopeful rather than dark and unending. The actual writing is beautiful; I highlight lines that I love when I'm reading, and I must've highlighted a good quarter of the book. Trista Mateer is clearly a huge talent, and I eagerly await whatever else she publishes.
I really enjoyed and appreciated this collection. As soon as I realised it was an illustrated collection, I did begin to worry that it would be yet another Milk and Honey ripoff, but I'm glad that I was wrong. It was much, much more than that.
For me, possibly because I'm a Classicist, the poems about Aphrodite were by far the strongest. I would happily read a whole book of poetry from her point of view written by this author. Her voice was so incisive and brutal that whenever the 'poet' took over, I was almost disappointed. That's not to say that those poems were bad, but they seemed much less original; I've read Mateer's work before, and a lot of them could honestly have been copied and pasted from other collections. There's only so many ways to rewrite the same poem about self care and believing in yourself, I think.
For that reason, I much preferred the beginning of this collection. Although Mateer herself states that she's tired of writing poems about her trauma ('fuck another poem [...]') and wants to write about healing instead, the truth is that the poetry about healing was almost trite and much less original than the poetry about Medusa's violation, or Aphrodite's misrepresentation. That's by no means to say that poets should only write about darkness, but it almost felt like Mateer's heart wasn't in the latter half. As though she felt she should be writing a certain kind of collection which had a cohesive narrative from trauma to recovery. I may well be wrong about that, but it didn't feel as authentic to me.
That said, I did love how there was an over-arching theme in this collection. Leaving it on a positive note was a clever move, and it felt hopeful rather than dark and unending. The actual writing is beautiful; I highlight lines that I love when I'm reading, and I must've highlighted a good quarter of the book. Trista Mateer is clearly a huge talent, and I eagerly await whatever else she publishes.
Free ARC received via Netgalley in exchange for my honest review.
I'm glad I read this book. It does a good job of, if not untangling, then at least recognising the many complexities of gender. The artwork is beautiful, often either underscoring a point or paying homage to an important figure. I think that Gottlieb does a genuinely great job of touching on myriad subjects - I didn't expect a book on gender to touch on the depiction of black men and police brutality, but I'm very glad it does. This is a hugely wide reaching book, and although its breadth often comes at the expense of depth, that's really not a bad thing. It gets the balance just right, giving enough detail to inform the reader on a topic and pointers to know where to do further research.
I identify as a cis woman and my presentation is pretty femme, but I didn't feel excluded by this book or like this book was meant for other people. I've definitely learnt from it. As someone who always aims to be inclusive, I know that there are things I get wrong, and this book has helped me to understand where I can do better; it's particularly good at offering tangible ways to do this, rather than simply saying 'try harder'. Recommendations such as checking pronouns and minding language are helpful to have.
It's not without fault, though. There were several instances of language that I feel could be improved; the use of the term 'poc women' rather than 'woc' or 'women of colour' was fairly frequent (although 'women of colour' was also used, the term 'poc women' is just nonsensical; it literally means 'people of colour women'). The assignation of the identity of 'transgender woman' to Marsha P. Johnson was a bit iffy, seeing as she never claimed this identity herself and I find it problematic to assume gender after someone's death; a large part of the book is dedicated to not assuming someone's gender identity, and I don't think this should go out of the window posthumously. Finally, the use of content warnings is inconsistent. Sections which discuss sexual assault are given content warnings, but that's it. Sections discussing, for example, the murder rate of trans sex workers or black men and police brutality are not. I personally think that using content warnings should be consistent; either use them in all potentially triggering cases or none.
These are fairly small points, and I really do only bring them up because the book itself is so important and so beautifully realised. I would absolutely purchase this as a primer on gender for all those with even a peripheral interest in the topic. The addition of the author's personal experience with gender at the end was a wonderful touch. I'm glad this book exists.
I'm glad I read this book. It does a good job of, if not untangling, then at least recognising the many complexities of gender. The artwork is beautiful, often either underscoring a point or paying homage to an important figure. I think that Gottlieb does a genuinely great job of touching on myriad subjects - I didn't expect a book on gender to touch on the depiction of black men and police brutality, but I'm very glad it does. This is a hugely wide reaching book, and although its breadth often comes at the expense of depth, that's really not a bad thing. It gets the balance just right, giving enough detail to inform the reader on a topic and pointers to know where to do further research.
I identify as a cis woman and my presentation is pretty femme, but I didn't feel excluded by this book or like this book was meant for other people. I've definitely learnt from it. As someone who always aims to be inclusive, I know that there are things I get wrong, and this book has helped me to understand where I can do better; it's particularly good at offering tangible ways to do this, rather than simply saying 'try harder'. Recommendations such as checking pronouns and minding language are helpful to have.
It's not without fault, though. There were several instances of language that I feel could be improved; the use of the term 'poc women' rather than 'woc' or 'women of colour' was fairly frequent (although 'women of colour' was also used, the term 'poc women' is just nonsensical; it literally means 'people of colour women'). The assignation of the identity of 'transgender woman' to Marsha P. Johnson was a bit iffy, seeing as she never claimed this identity herself and I find it problematic to assume gender after someone's death; a large part of the book is dedicated to not assuming someone's gender identity, and I don't think this should go out of the window posthumously. Finally, the use of content warnings is inconsistent. Sections which discuss sexual assault are given content warnings, but that's it. Sections discussing, for example, the murder rate of trans sex workers or black men and police brutality are not. I personally think that using content warnings should be consistent; either use them in all potentially triggering cases or none.
These are fairly small points, and I really do only bring them up because the book itself is so important and so beautifully realised. I would absolutely purchase this as a primer on gender for all those with even a peripheral interest in the topic. The addition of the author's personal experience with gender at the end was a wonderful touch. I'm glad this book exists.
(Copy received from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review)
Hoo boy, this book was not for me. At 173 pages, I couldn't even finish it. Too vague, too wishy-washy, no concrete ideas whatsoever. I have a Master's in Narrative Theory and this was so theory-based, nothing tangible to hold onto at all, that it was completely incomprehensible. I got 40 pages in and I literally could not continue. The use of parentheses every other sentence (to add meaning? Usually with interrogatives? For no apparent reason?) really, really didn't help the flow. It came across as fragmented, and in a book which is already difficult to get a foothold on, that was the nail in the coffin for me.
This book might be someone else's favourite. I'm sure someone else will be able to parse some meaning from it. I wish I could be that person, but I am not.
Hoo boy, this book was not for me. At 173 pages, I couldn't even finish it. Too vague, too wishy-washy, no concrete ideas whatsoever. I have a Master's in Narrative Theory and this was so theory-based, nothing tangible to hold onto at all, that it was completely incomprehensible. I got 40 pages in and I literally could not continue. The use of parentheses every other sentence (to add meaning? Usually with interrogatives? For no apparent reason?) really, really didn't help the flow. It came across as fragmented, and in a book which is already difficult to get a foothold on, that was the nail in the coffin for me.
This book might be someone else's favourite. I'm sure someone else will be able to parse some meaning from it. I wish I could be that person, but I am not.
I just inhaled this book and it's one of those little poetry collections that sort of makes you feel like maybe you've lived a hundred lives and also like maybe you're Anne Boleyn, which frankly is not a feeling that I get from enough books. The author is writing a novel at the moment, and if I was excited for it before I read this book, then I'm doubly so now. There's a lovely delicate feeling to these poems, which absolutely does not translate to a lack of weight. My favourite sections were the ones about myth and historical queens, and my absolute favourite poem may have been Helen of Troy's for its wittiness and snark. Definitely a writer to watch.
