I received a free copy of this book from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
This book is exactly what it says on the tin - letters/poems the author is writing to younger iterations of herself - and yet it's exactly this that confused me while reading it and makes me not really know how to review it now.
First off, I'm unsure about how I feel about
calling
chopped-off sentences
with no real rhyme
or structure
(yes, yes,
free verse)
poetry,
but I do sometimes find them effective, both in this book and in general.
It was more the content that made me unsure of who this was meant for and where it was all going. The letters are sorted chronologically, but some of the earlier ones seem a bit too heavy to be messages to a 12-year-old girl (or maybe I'm just insensitive and underestimating kids?). They were deeply personal but also frustratingly abstract (is this a cop-out? or is it art?). They were, after a while, slightly repetitive, and uniformly depressing.
And then, suddenly...
my poems are all
starting to sound the same
they blur into each other
...
but i'm still writing these poems
even though they're all the same
because maybe you need to hear me tell you
it will be okay
in a hundred different ways
until you start believing it
... extremely meta:
i'm sorry that everything
you've read thus far
has been heart-wrenching.
i don't think i'm being fair.
life hasn't been all that bad
even though i've painted it to be
And, somehow, that was what threw me off the most, that the author knew how she was coming across, supposedly to her younger self, but really to her readers, was aware of the weaknesses in her approach and chose to forge on without changing it.
It begs the question of who the book is for. There must be an audience for it, someone who, like the younger iterations of the author, really does need to hear that they are important in a hundred different varieties. I liked a handful of said varieties, but wasn't really the right audience for the rest.