A poetry compilation recounting a woman’s journey from self-loathing to self-acceptance, confusion to clarity, and bitterness to forgiveness
Following in the footsteps of such category killers as Milk and Honey and Whiskey Words & a Shovel I , Fariha Róisín’s poetry book is a collection of her thoughts as a young, queer, Muslim femme navigating the difficulties of her intersectionality. Simultaneously, this compilation unpacks the contentious relationship that exists between Róisín and her mother, her platonic and romantic heartbreaks, and the cognitive dissonance felt as a result of being so divided among her broad spectrum of identities.
Fariha Róisín is a writer, culture worker, and educator.
Born in Ontario, Canada, they were raised in Sydney, Australia, and are based in Los Angeles, California. As a Muslim queer Bangladeshi, they are interested in the margins, liminality, otherness, and the mercurial nature of being. Their work has pioneered a refreshing and renewed conversation about wellness, contemporary Islam, degrowth and queer identities and has appeared in Al Jazeera, The Guardian, Vice, Village Voice, and others.
Róisín has published a book of poetry entitled How To Cure A Ghost (Abrams), a journal called Being In Your Body (Abrams), and a novel named Like A Bird (Unnamed Press) which was named one of the Best Books of 2020 by NPR, Globe and Mail, Harper’s Bazaar, a must-read by Buzzfeed News and received a starred review by the Library Journal.
Their first work of non-fiction Who Is Wellness For? An Examination of Wellness Culture and Who it Leaves Behind (HarperWave) was released in 2022, and their second book of poetry Survival Takes A Wild Imagination came out Fall of 2023.
They are a member of Writers Against The War on Gaza.
I'm not really someone that reads much poetry so i'm perhaps not the best person to review this. That being said i found some of these poems to be beautiful and captivating and others were perhaps a bit weaker and left me confused. There is no doubt however that the poems in How to Cure a Ghost are very personal to the author and came from the heart.
Fariha Roisin's poetry is beautiful and fearless. The struggles she faced as a queer, young Muslim woman puts into focus the parallel strife of the everyday brown woman. Highly recommend! ......... "Yet, I remain perversely stagnant, Not allowing myself to transform, Afraid of losing. I stay, stunted, awaiting my alluvial fate. I just want to be saved. " .......................
"But what i dont understand Is this: why we hate others complexities But expect to be seen in our own. why we expect love but can't give it?"
Tale as old as Milk & Honey: brown women damaged and gaslit by white men in the way only they can do in a relationship context. I’m acutely familiar with that, more times than I’d care to admit, so I couldn’t help but really relate to and enjoy some bits. (So. 2 stars) What this needed was an editor. There were some stanzas and lines that were just not very good and read more like a tumblr rant than a thought-out piece of work. I’m being a bit demeaning in the first sentence since many poems are not like that, and she talks a lot about her complicated identity and relationship with colonialism. The thing is that those poems weren’t that great and the solipsistic emotional ones were her mediocre best.
These poems are about experiences as an immigrant and Muslim. They were heartbreaking, beautiful and empowering. Some pieces made me feel seen. Many more told much needed stories that people need to know. Other reviews said it better: it packed a punch and asked me to hold my heart.
I cannot rate someone's life experiences, but I can rate their poetic language, arrangement, sensitivity, since all of them are publicly open.. and all that didn't work out for me. The language was foul at times and it took out the sensitivity it was meant to express. However, I felt the rage and grief those words tried to transmit. They reached me, but not in the way I expected them to. I can only hope the author was able to forgive those who wronged her and heal her generational trauma.
The cover and photos were gorgeous, as well as some bits here and there.
3.5⭐️, rounded up to 4.I don’t read a lot of poetry & am therefore not comfortable writing an in depth review. But what’s important is I enjoyed this work! Fariha Róisín uses her poems as a way to speak about what it’s like to navigate the terrain of colonialism in a brown, queer, Muslim body. I learned new things & I found moments that resonated with me. I recommend for fans of Fatimah Asghar’s If They Come For Us.
It's fine to "find" yourself, but you can't blame the white people. I myself am white, and I've never met her, nor harmed her in any way. Blaming the "bad white folk" is the same type of discrimination that Roisin herself rails against in this book.
Some of these poems are quite lovely, and I appreciate the poem about The Keepers, as my own family has suffered sexual abuse from the Catholic Church, but rather than rising above such stereotypes she embraces them, covering her contempt for another culture by claiming discrimination against her own.
If Fariha Roisin does not want to be judged for how she looks than she needs to work on not judging others by the same stereotypes.
A few poems are touching, and deep - I especially enjoyed those in which she talked about her relationship with her own faith. The illustrations also add a nice touch and bring depth to certain themes discussed in the poetry collection. With that being said, most of the poems just end up lacking maturity and falling into every single postmodern poetry cliche imaginable. 90% of them look like something you could easily find on Tumblr a couple of years ago. The underdeveloped metaphors along with the insistence of talking about the same themes that have already been discussed in plenty of other poetry collections before made me give this book only 1 star - it brings to the literary scene absolutely nothing new.
It always feels weird to rate a book like this, so personal. The author speaks about her own experiences, and I feel I have no right to say if they deserve a three, four, five, star rating. I can't rate a life, and although I understood and resonated with some of the poems, or some bits of them, they don't speak about my own experiences.
I can say, however, that the poems encapsulate her feelings in a gut-twisting way. While reading, you can feel her pain, her hurting and grief. I can't dive deeper into the meaning of the poems because they feel as a way to deal with her own trauma and feelings, and it feels wrong to rate them when I have not shared similar experiences.
yes, topics such as race, generational trauma, immigration, etc. are very important and should still be addressed… i just don’t think this is how i’d like to read about them personally. this felt like a very twitter thread-y take on these topics with an occasional sprinkle of SAT words. though some poems were very personal (i particularly liked “rumi” and “self portraiture”), the entirety of the book was distancing, and began to feel repetitive for me at around 30%. yes, such topics are “haunting” so maybe that’s a part of it.. but this sort of repetition felt redundant to me.
i think if roisin has written essays/prose i am more likely to enjoy that than her poetry.
This book is really aesthetically beautiful— the pages are colorful, the illustrations are gorgeous— but unfortunately that’s all it has going for it. I really hate being so judgmental about poetry because I’m sure this really means something to the poet, but it’s so disheartening to read poetry like this that has no understanding or appreciation of form or rhythm. Why the lowercase? Why does the line break there? What does it say? What does any of this say? What does it TRULY say that couldn’t be said in a tweet or a tumblr post? So many modern poets just do not get it and it makes me want to tear my hair out. Please take one poetry class, PLEASE.
To be completely honest, so far I find myself finding bits and pieces of her works that are really nice; complimentary in a way. Though, I feel like they drag on too long?? Majority of her works are completely killed by unnecessary cringe worthy instagram lines. I truly felt as if it fell short of what it was promised to be.
This isn’t a flowery, fluffy book of poetry. It’s very raw and intense and lovely in its wit. My favorites were “Golden Lube,” “Mansplain Nation,” “Rumi,” “This One’s with Teeth,” “What 9/11 Did to Us,” and “Belonging.”
A mix of brilliant verses and tumblr poems...I feel that if this were more condensed, without the filler tumblr-esque poetry, it would be a true gem. It's as if someone put two poetry books together for some reason. But the good parts are gut wrenchingly good.
such a shame the physical copy of the book is so pretty especially with the blue pages + white text/blue text and with the illustrations but the writing was just so …. meh not as enjoyable as i wanted it to be
I found I was not able to put this book down when I found it in a bookshop earlier this week. Fariha Roisin’s words combined with gorgeous detail by Monica Ramos and design by Diane Shaw is eye-catching and demands to be heard.
Roisin writes about identity, about trauma, and about finding the balance of yourself between the elements of family and culture. I found her writing to be raw, but also soft enough to gently draw out the words into a series of beautiful poems. Watching Roisin try to find substance in her life was relatable and honest.
i am bigger than this pain, a vortex of every narrative I’ve screamed together to have purpose frequency (13).
Where Roisin writes of maternal trauma, sex and sexuality I felt the most at home. But she goes beyond this into critiques of society and racism. We read of her experiences of 9/11, her family’s experiences of wars undocumented on white media, of 1971. Roisin is careful and powerful.
remember us, like you’d remember white death. Remember us with no guilt. Just remember that we lost so much more than what you’ve afforded us to lose (112).
For the most part I am struck by the power in Roisin’s writing, each word and comma. In other reviews I have seen curiosity about essays and nonfiction and I would echo these sentiments, hoping to see further exploration of writing styles.
That said I enjoyed this collection.
Favourites included: you feel me right, you feel me je ne suis pas folle loss becomes her how to become a ghost ii haruomi hosono sporting a new look it’s all love we go on sisters, we go on who’s right this one’s for me.
There's some really beautiful poetry in here. A lot of it hit me really hard—Fariha Roisin is not afraid to pack a punch, but there are also some really beautiful poems about self-love and empowerment.
Also thank you to the person who reviewed this and mentioned 'sexual mangoes' as a poetry cliche. This is how I will judge all poetry collections from now.
Certains des poèmes étaient hyper poignants et émouvants, on ressent sa rage, sa haine, sa fierté, son amour. Mais à côté certains poèmes étaient vraiment mauvais à mon goût ? J'ai l'impression que tout n'a pas été écrit par la même personne c'est bizarre. 3⭐️
alright. don't get me wrong. I can tell the poems are really personal and meaningful to the author and others with a similar experience. amazing for those people. the struggles of an immigrant really spoke to me. what I didn't appreciate were the opinions relating to the middle east thrown in the mix. it seemed like the author only used the narratives that were conventionally aligned with hers. some went as far as being triggering for me as an Iranian. overall, I don't really think I expected much from this book.