The Anatomy of Being

by Shinji Moon

As Shinji Moon's debut book of poetry, The Anatomy of Being is youthful and fragmented, a journey inward from the perspective of the hopes and pains of adolescence. Broken up into four chapters, she holds your hand and takes you inward with her, from skin to flesh, to flesh to bones, from bones to all that lies within. Both heartbreaking and hopeful, The Anatomy of Being marks a very distinct time in a young girl's life, and aches and aches to be heard and devoured.

2013 Goodreads Choice Awards Poetry Finalist

Genres: Poetry, Nonfiction, Contemporary, Adult, Romance, 21st Century, Love

102 pages, Paperback

First published April 1, 2013

About the author

shinji moon is from new york and currently resides in the pacific northwest, somewhere by the ferns. she is the author of the anatomy of being (lulu 2013).

Reviews

[Sasha · Rating 5 out of 5]

Oh. This book.
Okay, the backstory - I stumbled upon Advice from Dionysus on tumblr and fell in love and some months later I recieved this book as a birthday present. And...

"Tell this poem how you stood at the edge of the world with a beautiful someone, how you didn't know the last kiss would be the last, and how you never thought that you would spend the rest of you life looking for that same feeling in every city you ever woke up in."

Part of why I love these texts so much is definitely that Shinji Moon is so young; everything is so familiar and it makes something within me ache (on the same note - my favourite chapter was definitely four). More things are underlined than they should be.

I once heard the expression We will probably always break while longing for more and it fits so very well. This book shattered me, but it came with a manual how to piece myself back together.

To summarise; I have a new favourite poet and I will need to buy a new copy of this book within three years.

[Edita · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Why do you write poetry?"

Because I have forgotten everything else.
Because there are questions that no one has answered. Because there are dreams that have snuck up from behind me and left burns in the places that I can’t reach with just my hands, with just my skin. Because there are muscles that I’ve only just discovered the uses for. Because there is no other place for me to go but here, a place where there are only more questions - only more metaphors, only more excuses. Because I’m scared of cutting into myself with a knife, and have found that this page is an incision, that these words are sharper than the blades that people have dug into their stomachs. Because there is light just as much as there is darkness; because the man who works in the falafel truck on Third Ave no longer knows my name. Because there is such a thing as love. Because there is no such a thing as love. Because I have only just reacquainted myself with my parents-have seen them as humans instead of holes.I write because I am finally giving in to my own name, am no longer running from where I have come from and am no longer running towards anything and because the only place where I can feel myself feel is in paper. Because margins are no longer cutting it for me. Because there are gaps between teeth and gaps between people and people still wonder why there is such a thing as loneliness. Because there are dead that don’t want to rest. Because there are living that want to be dead. Because my Writing Teacher told me that my favorite author was an asshole. Because I’m trying to prove that I exist, that I’m alive, that I’m not a mistake but something blooming. Because there is still no cure for sorrow. Because skin. Because I can no longer look at the world without metaphors. Because there is no answer. Because there is no skin. Because there is no vessel but this. Because this book is yours as much as mine. Because I keep answering questions with more questions, and there are question marks between myself and other people and I can no longer keep myself from wandering why that must always be so. Because I have seen love - have witnessed love, have touched love, have fought with love, have tried to drown love only to see it again one morning, making me coffee in the kitchen - humming a song that I thought I had forgotten. Because there are people that I’m scared to call. Because when I think of voicemails I think of bad news. Because my stepfather had a stroke. Because my father is a different man. Because I have lived so many lies. Because my grandfathers were great men. Because there is a world that I will never see. Because you broke my heart. Because I broke yours. Because we still don’t understand how that could be so. Because. Because. Because I still love you. Because I always will. Because you are the most honest verse I have ever never written. Because fuck poetry. Because fuck me. Because please. Because yes. Because you.
Because this.

[Liz Janet · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book was read for the #readwomen month.
“You will lie to everyone you love.
They will love you anyways.”
If you need someone to understand you, this is the person that already does, and then decided to write a book of poems about all the things we need to be understood about.
“I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much
as I will drown everything you have inside.”
These are poems about self-love, and about how someone will truly know you once they touch every scar and mark on your body with tenderness and care.
“Let the word in and sooner or later people will see the oceans pouring out of you. You'll walk down the street and someone will mistake you for the sky. You are beautiful because you let yourself feel, and that is a brave thing indeed.”
Have any of you seen Sense8? This made me feel like parts of the show became her poetry.

[Nicolette · Rating 5 out of 5]

This has been sitting in my Amazon cart for months, and I finally ordered it. It arrived, feeling thin and fragile in my palms. Assuming I would be able to clip through it in an evening, I was floored by the themes of loneliness, youth, and lust seeping through the pages. They stained my hands. Couldn't finish it in one night or I would risk walking in a dream for the rest of the week. I want to devour every word she wrote and learn it by heart, put it to rhythm, put it to music, and put it to silence.

Buy it. You won't regret it. If you're like me, you'll carry it with you wherever you go for the rest of your life.

[Yune · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was drawn in by the introductory prose-poem:

...This is how we discover language when we sail through it without a compass. Skin: two oceans colliding. My salt dunes. Your dimples like sand dollars. Our bodies tangled like seaweed. This is what you would find if you ran your hands over these bones in the dark and tried to turn me into braille. These are the distress signals that our body knows before we do. Morse code. Heat rising. Our skin, flushed. This is driftwood, and this is our drifting. These are my hand on your hands. These are my poems on your poems.

(Chapter One)

There's some really beautiful language and sentiments in this slender volume (stuffed with a generous hundred pages' worth of poems), although occasionally it teeters into overwrought, both in terms of figurative language and emotion. Given that these were written when Moon was between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, I can understand the emphasis on grandiose, desperate love, the sort that's so powerful it becomes painful, and often seemingly inseparable from physical love. To her credit, Moon seems self-aware of this:

I hate seeing poetry in everything I touch.
I hate that I can no longer love you without turning you into a metaphor
— that it can never be simple as looking at you and saying

                  yes,
        yes.
                                yes.

("Questioning Without Answering")

And I was often tickled by these metaphors, like using parking meters to pay for time in a relationship ("Pocket Change"), or:

Do you remember how raw the night seemed
when we cracked the moon over our teeth and let its yolk
run down our throat?

Salmonella or not,
I loved you then.

("Flash Storm")

And there's a graceful, heartfelt poem about maternal love kept carefully unsuffocating ("A Letter to My Own Daughter at 18") that makes me very much look forward to Moon's future works, as I expect her themes to broaden in scope.

[Meggie Royer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Worth every penny. The best poetry book I've ever read. These poems cut to the bone.

"I love like a leaky faucet or I love like a dam breaking. There is nothing in between."

[Marwa · Rating 4 out of 5]

It is not often that I come across such honest words that can shake the mountain of my being.

[Mugren Ohaly · Rating 1 out of 5]

Moon, sea, and anatomy metaphors are grossly overused. There's no creativity.

[Kin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Love it!!!

[Amber Smith · Rating 5 out of 5]

I wept, felt pain, felt hope. My heart was open & raw to absorb the beauty that spilled out on almost every page. My book is full of dog eared pages so I can revisit these words again and again like a secret lover under a full moon that you just can't say goodbye to, no matter how badly it hurts your heart. If you are not moved by Shinji Moon's words.... You may be dead.

[nathan · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Anatomy of Being(2013) by Shinji Moon is a collection of poems that yearn to be touched by human hands that have once made love or none at all. That sweet and shy high school girl that always sat by herself during lunch whom you always wondered why nobody ever approached her when you yourself never approached her is the best way to describe the author and her tone with these poems. The collective, a lonely girl curled up in her bed, only asks that you lie next to her and tell her that you love her, and actually mean it. The only critique I had is that reading this collection was like reading years worth of her creative work..thus I felt some of her tricks and language were a bit overused and redundant. Highly recommended and meant to be read over and over again.

*excited for more of her published works!

[Rachel (Into a Story) · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 Stars

Although there were some typos and some repetitive themes, this was a beautiful book. I love her writing. I first fell in love with her poetry when I found a line of hers on Pinterest:

“There is a shipwreck between your ribs. You are a box with fragile written on it, and so many have not handled you with care.”

This book left me feeling so inspired to work on my novel and write poetry and make films and open my eyes to all the beauty in the world.

Please publish more books, Shinji!

[Asma · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was quite an emotional experience. The poetry, though longer than what I'm used to reading, is so raw and pure. The confessional style both hits home where its relatable, or bounces off base, but the imagery is so specific and engrossing, I could almost feel what she wrote about. This book didn't contain poetry alone, but prose as well, which also followed the confessional theme. The tone was equal parts dark and brooding, and hopeful. The Anatomy of Being has the sense of an artist who has put her soul into her art, and it shows. There is precision in her pain and reflections, and nothing pretentious in her journey. There were poems I couldn't relate to, but I couldn't help admiring purity of it.

If you're into poetry, this is a book worth delving into.

For more book reviews, visit by blog A Reading Kabocha.

[Devin The Book Dragon · Rating 4 out of 5]

There is no doubt that Shinji Moon is an amazing poet. She questions things no one seems to questions, and seems to view the world from a different perspective than anyone else.

The only reason I gave this book 4/5 is because a lot of her poems seemed a bit samey.

However, if you’re looking for a small poetry book to read slowly and drink it at night when you’re feeling kind of sad and philosophical, read this. It contains many poems about love, lust, emotions, relationships, and people. I feel like this is a great book to read to anyone new to poetry, as it is easy to understand.

I will definitely read more of her work should I come across it in the future.

[Melanie · Rating 5 out of 5]

really like shinji's work & can relate to being an asian living away from home

favourite parts in this book include love being described to be the moon's yolk in which we let drip down our chins / 'salmonella or not, i loved you then'

and

'when i talk abt flesh, what i mean is that i want for my words to be touched gently,
as if you had never seen my sort of dialect before
as if you never wanted to read anyone else again'

[Ben · Rating 2 out of 5]

The 4th chapter, which focuses on themes of family, is elegant and I enjoyed it the most. However, I couldn't foster any connection with the narrative voice and so the poems didn't engender any emotion. The first three chapters were often thematically and lyrically repetitive - which wouldn't be bad if you were into it. I'm probably not in the target audience for this collection. 2.5/5 stars.

[Iris · Rating 5 out of 5]

this is an utter jewel that i will read over and over again for the rest of eternity

[Carin Lundqvist · Rating 5 out of 5]

"There are certain things about myself
that I romanticize, like the way I have Orion's belt on my chin
or the way my grandmother gave me her hands:
gift-wrapped and covered in flour.

Yesterday, I found a birthmark on my inner thigh
of a heart or spilt milk
and this morning I found that
there's nothing a person can do
to make me feel more beautiful, than to
trace me like I hold
simpler lines
beneath me.
[...] "

These poems always give me comfort and provide voices for feelings I cannot fully express myself. I absolutely adore this book.

[Daisy · Rating 5 out of 5]

beautiful. bought it on a whim when i saw the link to purchase on tumblr randomly one day. i'd read their poetry before but nothing could prepare me for the experience of it all together like that in my hands. i cried more than once.

also you get a lot of content for the price you pay. a lot of poetry collections can be a little thin on the ground with what's actually inside the book but this definitely isn't one of them. loved.

[Aakankshya Adhikari · Rating 3 out of 5]

I liked this a lot but will probably appreciate it more when I read it for the second time after someone has very kindly broken my heart.

Favourites:
Self Portrait
What The Body Knows
Kintsugi
Cartography
Flash Storm
What I Mean When I Say Touch Me
A Love Letter to a Stranger
This Is What Distance Does
If I Left You A Voicemail This Would Be It
Miscommunication
This Is What My Mother Taught Me
This Is What My Father Taught Me
Here Is What I Wish They Said

[Jasmine Wang · Rating 3 out of 5]

Although the writing was touching, it was full of cliches. After about halfway through the book, the endless metaphors comparing life/love to print became tiring and uninspiring. The poems are very nice in small doses though if you keep in mind the author is quite young. I enjoyed the prose selections.

[tamazawareads · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Let's call it social hemophilia. Someone touches me and I bleed for days."

It's as though someone had found my dark confused soul, condensed it into ink and imprinted it onto paper. Never before has a book resonated with me so bone-deep and done it in only a few pages.
Wow.
Just wow.

[Nina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Still got me.

[Kira Schumacher · Rating 3 out of 5]

There wasn't any poem that I actually strongly disliked, I just felt like most of these I had read before in similar ways (which might be because I have read a lot of poetry coming from the same time and the same platform). This was mainly on me for mismanaging my expectations, the poems seemed to circle what they truly wanted to say and therefore had only a low impact on me.

But I can imagine someone else finding thorough enjoyment in this.

[Karolina Zych · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really love it but i still think honey and honey was better.
I'm planning reread it in future

[belljareads · Rating 2 out of 5]

meh

[Bella · Rating 4 out of 5]

reminiscing on my tumblr era <3

[Florence · Rating 5 out of 5]

september 2020
still beautiful. still a shit review from me.
____

june 2016
lol that review was gross to read. but i'm rereading this for the third time bc i really do love it a lot.
____

sometime in 2014, who really knows
What a breathtakingly beautiful and raw book.
I have never read anything more revealing in poetry than I have in this.
The intricate compilation of words inspire me, and I can only wish that I could be half the writer Moon is.

We bleed emotions,
It seeps through our wounds;
The wounds on our skin,
And the wounds on our heart.
These wounds won't heal
Until we stop picking at them.
We irritate and infect,
And we lose to ourselves.

"Because I'm scared of cutting into myself with a knife, and have found that this page is an incision, that these words are sharper than the blades people have dug into their stomachs."
I say Ellen Hopkins is a poetic genius,
But Shinji Moon is poetry.
She lives poetry,
Breathes poetry,
And bleeds poetry.
Her writing is flawless,
And I found myself for the first time tabbing pages that I
love.

Thank you, Montana. Best present ever.

[Na · Rating 5 out of 5]

As a self-proclaimed cynic, I have a really hard time finding poetry that resonates with me (until now). Moon's writing was absolutely beautiful, unapologetic, and vulnerable. She allowed herself to feel everything and I find that incredibly brave. Modern day romance is filled with unnerved, scared, and cautious people trying to dissect each other instead of allowing themselves to stop and just...feel. I guess this applies to me also. This book reminded me of something that I may have forgotten and I can't thank it enough. If you're not into poetry but you love beautiful writing, I would recommend this book as well.

This is my favorite poetry book thus far.

[Kelly · Rating 5 out of 5]

Here is what they don't tell you:
Icarus laughed as he fell.
Threw his head back and
yelled into the winds,
arms spread wide,
teeth bared to the world.

(There is a bitter triumph
in crashing when you should be
soaring.)

The wax scorched his skin,
ran blazing trails down his back,
his thighs, his ankles, his feet.
Feathers floated like prayers
past his fingers,
close enough to snatch back.
Death breathed burning kisses
against his shoulders,
where the wings joined the harness.
The sun painted everything
in shades of gold.

(There is a certain beauty
in setting the world on fire
and watching from the centre
of the flames.)