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krhea's review
5.0
I am not a poet. In fact, I am a person who would say "I don't GET poetry." Even as a person who loves words, I have found most poetry I've encountered (not that I've historically sought much out) to be high-brow and overly-intellectual or wearyingly flowery or willfully inaccessible. I'd be over here in my own head like, "Come on, poets! Stop your almost-saying, and TELL ME A THING, why don't you?" So I a little bit opened this book while sitting across a "Change My Mind" table from it.
...This review isn't an essay about me or about poetry, I promise. But I think my starting point when I picked up *The Art of the Almost Said* is relevant. Not every book has a noticeable before-and-after effect on a person. But this one did for me.
In his easily-approachable story-time voice--which, while incredible knowledgeable and passionate about his subject, never strays into a tone of arrogance or condescension--Robert Hudson gently re-framed my initial question when I picked up the book. I went from back-row-English-class "WHY poetry?" to an awakened-curiosity of "WHERE'S poetry?"
I think one of the most helpful things for me, was how very early on, he gave me sort of an unspoken permission I didn't know I needed: I don't have to enjoy all poetry. Or even most poetry. Which in hindsight, is so obvious. After all, I'd say I like movies. And I do. But in fact, I probably don't like (and haven't seen) MOST movies. And I'm not even a hard critic. So what I mean when I say I like movies is "I like the movies I like." Which is fine. That's what everyone means. And that was the starting point of how this particular author in this particular book started me on a journey of discovering: Hey. Some of these pretty-word-stacks are actually intriguing as heck.
This book is full of helpful, interesting creative exercises and a million resources and recommended readings. It made me think and reconsider and check some of my preconceived notions about what poetry is and what its limits are. And I honestly enjoyed it the whole way through. Me. The skeptic.
Frankly, I just really want you guys to read this book. That's all.
...This review isn't an essay about me or about poetry, I promise. But I think my starting point when I picked up *The Art of the Almost Said* is relevant. Not every book has a noticeable before-and-after effect on a person. But this one did for me.
In his easily-approachable story-time voice--which, while incredible knowledgeable and passionate about his subject, never strays into a tone of arrogance or condescension--Robert Hudson gently re-framed my initial question when I picked up the book. I went from back-row-English-class "WHY poetry?" to an awakened-curiosity of "WHERE'S poetry?"
I think one of the most helpful things for me, was how very early on, he gave me sort of an unspoken permission I didn't know I needed: I don't have to enjoy all poetry. Or even most poetry. Which in hindsight, is so obvious. After all, I'd say I like movies. And I do. But in fact, I probably don't like (and haven't seen) MOST movies. And I'm not even a hard critic. So what I mean when I say I like movies is "I like the movies I like." Which is fine. That's what everyone means. And that was the starting point of how this particular author in this particular book started me on a journey of discovering: Hey. Some of these pretty-word-stacks are actually intriguing as heck.
This book is full of helpful, interesting creative exercises and a million resources and recommended readings. It made me think and reconsider and check some of my preconceived notions about what poetry is and what its limits are. And I honestly enjoyed it the whole way through. Me. The skeptic.
Frankly, I just really want you guys to read this book. That's all.
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