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sarahjanespeedreading's review
slow-paced
2.75
I feel awful rating this so low, but I think the editor’s did the poems a disservice by making this anthology so long. I would’ve loved to have read it as a series of collections instead of one long book.
charvi_not_just_fiction's review
I don't know why I do this every time. I see a pretty poetry book and pick it up, forgetting that I'm not a poetry person. This is a me thing, please give the book a chance, I just couldn't enjoy it.
Dnf at 30%
Dnf at 30%
mallard_duck's review
5.0
They say This world isn't for you
Why then was I born into it, if it wasn't for me
(Phurbu Tashi, The World Isn't for You)
In giving this anthology 5 stars, I'm steering away from my usual rating criteria. I can’t say that this book as a whole swept me off my feet – but that’s entirely an it’s not you, it’s me situation.
Reading poetry is always hard for me. Even with my favorite poets (of which there are admittedly very few, since I go for prose 95% of the time), there are usually some poems I absolutely love and, well, the rest. This definitely contributed to my rather neutral reaction to most of the poems in this anthology; it’s my own personal failing that I find it hard to appreciate this art. (In fact, if I hadn’t read this as a part of the Reading Rainbow Book Bingo, I doubt I would’ve picked a collection of poems as my second read of 2024 at all.)
That said, I’m not even attempting to judge the quality of the poems included in this tome. In the preface, Aditi Angrias and Akhil Katyal pose a very valid question – what even is ‘quality’ poetry? How does one define a ‘good’ poem – or a ‘bad’ one, for that matter? Scholars and academics who’ve spent years studying poetry might have a say in this, but I certainly don’t feel confident enough to make that call when it comes to something so raw and personal. There were a few that resonated with me, and a lot that didn’t. That alone doesn’t make any of them ‘good’ or ‘bad’.
Which brings me to the second reason why I may not have been so enthralled by this collection: in the end, it wasn’t written for me. The authors are all queer, which is one thing we have in common, but other than that, they come from backgrounds and cultures entirely different than my own. While their works give me a glimpse into their lives, their experiences are not ones I can easily understand, having only surface level context for most of them. Likewise, I can’t fully grasp the impact of publishing an anthology such as this – but I can imagine that this may be an important publication to people whose cultures are represented in the book. To me, largely unfamiliar with the complicated landscape of nationalities, ethnicities, and faiths in South Asia, the sheer representation provided by this anthology was impressive (and also quite heartwarming).
All I know about being queer in South Asia is that it can be a complex, incredibly nuanced thing, steeped in a multitude of contexts which are often unknown to the Western audience (however reluctantly I use this term for myself, being from the weird cultural spot in Central-Eastern Europe). This anthology gives Pakistani, Malay, Indian, and other South Asian authors a platform to say: we are here, being queer isn’t something that only people in the West get to be. For someone looking in from the outside, like me, it stands (proudly) in opposition to the narrative (present in some circles) that there are no queer people in other cultures – and it serves as a reminder that the fight isn’t over for a lot of us.
What these poems mean to queer Pakistani, Malay, Indian, and other South Asian readers – I can’t know, but I hope they find it.
In giving this anthology 5 stars, I'm steering away from my usual rating criteria. I can’t say that this book as a whole swept me off my feet – but that’s entirely an it’s not you, it’s me situation.
Reading poetry is always hard for me. Even with my favorite poets (of which there are admittedly very few, since I go for prose 95% of the time), there are usually some poems I absolutely love and, well, the rest. This definitely contributed to my rather neutral reaction to most of the poems in this anthology; it’s my own personal failing that I find it hard to appreciate this art. (In fact, if I hadn’t read this as a part of the Reading Rainbow Book Bingo, I doubt I would’ve picked a collection of poems as my second read of 2024 at all.)
That said, I’m not even attempting to judge the quality of the poems included in this tome. In the preface, Aditi Angrias and Akhil Katyal pose a very valid question – what even is ‘quality’ poetry? How does one define a ‘good’ poem – or a ‘bad’ one, for that matter? Scholars and academics who’ve spent years studying poetry might have a say in this, but I certainly don’t feel confident enough to make that call when it comes to something so raw and personal. There were a few that resonated with me, and a lot that didn’t. That alone doesn’t make any of them ‘good’ or ‘bad’.
Which brings me to the second reason why I may not have been so enthralled by this collection: in the end, it wasn’t written for me. The authors are all queer, which is one thing we have in common, but other than that, they come from backgrounds and cultures entirely different than my own. While their works give me a glimpse into their lives, their experiences are not ones I can easily understand, having only surface level context for most of them. Likewise, I can’t fully grasp the impact of publishing an anthology such as this – but I can imagine that this may be an important publication to people whose cultures are represented in the book. To me, largely unfamiliar with the complicated landscape of nationalities, ethnicities, and faiths in South Asia, the sheer representation provided by this anthology was impressive (and also quite heartwarming).
All I know about being queer in South Asia is that it can be a complex, incredibly nuanced thing, steeped in a multitude of contexts which are often unknown to the Western audience (however reluctantly I use this term for myself, being from the weird cultural spot in Central-Eastern Europe). This anthology gives Pakistani, Malay, Indian, and other South Asian authors a platform to say: we are here, being queer isn’t something that only people in the West get to be. For someone looking in from the outside, like me, it stands (proudly) in opposition to the narrative (present in some circles) that there are no queer people in other cultures – and it serves as a reminder that the fight isn’t over for a lot of us.
What these poems mean to queer Pakistani, Malay, Indian, and other South Asian readers – I can’t know, but I hope they find it.
Body, I am trying to come home to you
but you are a country my passport does
not recognize
Body, all these foreign curves beautiful on other women
is an unfamiliar geometry that does not make sense to me
Speaking of sense, I say ‘other women’ as if
it is a we
but the other is so strong I am left cold on
the outskirts
Body, you feel like a stranger occupying the same space
because I am too polite to ask you to leave
Body, even when you feel like a suffocating
amount of too much
I am too afraid to mark you wrong for the
fear of being lost
(Fatema Bhaji, Body/Lost in Translation)
PS Reading other reviews, I love how different people quote many different poems that resonated with them.
PS Reading other reviews, I love how different people quote many different poems that resonated with them.
thegreenship's review
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
sad
tense
fast-paced
5.0
One of the best books I've read this year!
moonchildjuli's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
4.5
gracetreesa's review
5.0
"eyes that spoke in bold italics brimming with kohl"
I HIGHLIGHTED TOO MANY THINGS FOR THIS REVIEW AND I'M VERY SAD I CAN'T FIT THEM ALL
I HIGHLIGHTED TOO MANY THINGS FOR THIS REVIEW AND I'M VERY SAD I CAN'T FIT THEM ALL