Going through Tao Lin's first collection of poetry after being introduced to him through Taipei and his second collection, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, is a bit odd. I'm inclined to say it's an almost preferable order, however, because I think starting with his strongest work and ending with his weakest would have left me with a more sour taste in my mouth than reverse did.
It's easy to see why Tao Lin rocketed to the top of the literary sweetheart list after this collection was published. If anything, that's likely due more in part to his prose and short-stories/novels than this book of poetry, but I'd like to believe the rawest, most sincere facets of his voice are embodied in You Are A Little Bit Happier Than I Am. The honesty, sincerity, and disarming sparsity that are now hallmarks of Lin's style are all here in their primeval form, and the effect is to create a delightful war in the reader's mind between wanting to hug the author as an entity, and also to berate him for being such a mopey sad-sack. The 'whining child' persona that some of Lin's dis-creditors have ascribed to him since his rise to fame is at full form here, but it's easy to cut Lin a break when his moments of agonizing honesty and sincerity break through.
Frankly, if anything has made me want to read more of Lin's work, this is it. I felt a mix of happy irony and earnest melancholy bleed through on almost every page: even when experimental poems repeated the same line over and over, or began sentence after sentences with rambling conjunctions, it seemed obvious to me that Lin didn't have anything other than sincerity in his efforts. The only poems that fell flat for me were the very long ones; this is probably why I didn't like Lin's second collection as much, where he went for long poems much more often than short punches of resonant brevity. Lin tends to ramble and get off track when he has too many pages to work with; the verses that complete in a page or less seemed the most powerful to me.
While a lot of Lin's poetry is lacking the hallmarks are what are considered 'traditionally good poetry' (concrete detail, centered imagery, etc.), he maintains a consistency of voice and focus on small, personal moments, with a sort of detail-oriented description that forces the reader to connection emotionally with the content in a more invested way. Whole stanzas go by with Lin detailing actions and events with no emotional context in his description (will include example here later). The result is that when Lin does decide to go for the throat with an emotional claw, it leaves the reader breathless. I found myself more than once completely staggered at a poem's conclusion, right when Lin decided to amplify the beam of his detail to an almost blinding intensity.
This collection isn't perfect, but few are—and, in contrast to Lin's second volume of poetry, it's a markedly more honest and engaging effort. I'd like to see Lin's future work return to the only subtle irony shown in this work, rather than continuing to traipse along the self-parodying ironically-morphological caricature of sincerity that his recent material has become. Maybe he's too big for that now, but I'll hold out hope for volume 2 of a book this compelling.
(will include favorite and least favorite poems later, as I left my copy elsewhere while writing this review :S)