Poems about pop culture, mortality, and the internet, written during the Coronavirus pandemic--for readers who are more likely to double-tap Instapoems than put their phone down long enough to read The Decameron.
Catalyzed by sheltering in place and by a personal challenge to give up alcohol for thirty days, Leigh Stein, the poet laureate of The Bachelor, has written a 21st century Decameron to frame modern fables of reality TV and wellness influencers, juicy thoughtcrimes and love languages, and the mixed messages of contemporary feminism.
Think Starlight, the first poem in this collection, written before any self-quarantine orders, imagined the likelihood that the United States would follow in Italy's footsteps in terms of caseload and hospital overwhelm. By March 17, 2020, the imagined was the real; New York City had closed schools, bars, and restaurants--with the rest of the country to follow.
With nihilist humor and controlled despair, What to Miss When explores fears of death and grocery shopping, stress cleaning and drinking, influencers behaving badly, everything we took for granted, and life mediated by screens--with dissociation-via-internet, and looking for mirrors in a fourteenth-century pandemic text, a kind of survival response to living casually through catastrophe.
Leigh Stein makes fun of what the internet is doing to us. She is the author of six books, including the critically acclaimed satirical novel SELF CARE and the bestselling gothic mystery IF YOU'RE SEEING THIS, IT'S MEANT FOR YOU. She has written culture pieces and personal essays for the New York Times, the Washington Post, the New Yorker online, Airmail, Allure, ELLE, BuzzFeed, The Cut, Salon, and Slate.
Stein airs all her “naughty” thoughts here on such timely topics as virtue signaling, political correctness, and the pandemic. I suspect many others are more or less secretly thinking along similar lines. A cathartic, playful, devious little read.
Leigh Stein’s collection of poetry written during the pandemic is *chef’s kiss* perfection. There’s a little bit of satire, a little bit of heart. There’s humor and guilt and fear and boredom. It is a flawless time capsule of the COVID year and the universal experience of so many privileged Americans. I had to reread a handful of poems because they mirrored thoughts and feelings I didn’t even know I had. Like this one:
“I wake up and touch my phone to see who was thinking of me as I slept.”
***Note: I received a free digital review copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review***
In her dazzling new collection, Leigh Stein has managed to create art from the mess of modern life, with poems both elegiac and flippant in equal measure. Whether she’s commenting on the pervasiveness of social media and its effect on our collective psyche or the vagaries of human behavior amidst the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, she manages to imbue each poem with just enough levity to keep the reader from losing hope. I cannot recommend this collection highly enough.
Truly this might be the worst collection of poetry I’ve ever written AND I’ve read parts of gabbie hanna’s poetry book. This was a nonsensical, conversational, meaningless collection of what I can only guess was randomly automated tweets. There was absolutely no imagery, or metaphor, or any poetic devices that make poetry, well… good. I know different strokes for different folks but this was truly just not poetry. It would better be categorized as witty diary one liners that on occasion warrant a chuckle. If you are a serious poetry reader, do not read this collection. I wish I could get my $16 back.
Poems mostly about COVID and the 2020 zeitgeist. It was (and is) such a contentious period full of vapidity and tension. Everything was (and is) either meaningless or paramount depending on your position on the political matrix. That's how these poems translate as well. There's a distinct bitter and self-pitying theme and I found the perspective to be overall kind of alienating. The Michael Jordan poem was killer tho.
Sing, O goddess, of the rage that fueled the last Achilles of the twentieth century; his name was Michael Jordan and his kleos was six hard-won championship trophies. Whenever I bring up my love for this series, my friends say, 'I heard he doesn't come across as very nice,' and I'm like Yeah, so? When I die I hope my legacy is more compelling than 'She was nice and succeeded in making everyone like her.'" (71).
If you are a poetry fan and enjoy contemporary writing with all the pop culture references, this collection is for you! Leigh references a lot of the 2020 experience, from Love is Blind to Tiger King to quarantine - it’s all in there and it’s all delightful!
COVID poems. I’m conflicted, to say the least. I am stuck between 2 and 3 stars as there are a few sparks of brilliance here that have me questioning whether I should have devoted some more time to the collection, or whether I am missing some nuance to Stein’s approach. However, I can’t deny that these poems often felt muddled and almost too abstract in addressing an issue that is so present for all. Something about this didn’t sit right with my spirit! But COVID poems likely never will, so take that with a grain of salt.
If you think The Onion just isn't outlandishly satirical enough to encapsulate our current mood as a country, and perhaps twitter just doesn't quite capture the level, depth or nuance of your rage, your rage backlash, or just can't handle your specific malaise, or general malaise, then oh boy fam, this poetry collection is for you. My first pandemic poetry collection and the bar is now pretty high, so be warned.
"I'm trying to translate this experience into an artifact that will mean something." This book of poetry by Leigh Stein is an extremely relevant work, a time capsule of the 2020 COIVD-19 pandemic. Where "Intimations" by Zadie Smith captures the early uncertainty and emotions surrounding the idea of a global lockdown, "What to Miss When" finds a bit of humor in the mundane parts of lockdown for those lucky enough to stay and work from home. With commentary on movies and documentaries that were popular or similar to life during lockdown to a moving tribute to those who lost their lives to the virus called "Memorial Day", there are poems for all to enjoy.
Vivid, cinematic poetry about the world we live in now. Beautiful and heartfelt. I found myself sailing on these thoughts and then dreaming about them later. Brava.
Let me start this out by saying holy sh*t....this was an incredible read.
What to Miss When is a bitterly hopeful look at the millennial experience of the coronavirus covid19 pandemic. It may very well be the most I've related to something about how the past year has gone. The poems range from confessional to riffs off popular movies from the 80's and 90's that will give the reader a small push back in time for a healthy dose of nostalgia.
I was so impressed at how well Stein's words paint a vivid picture in my mind especially when it came to the poem "Groundhog Day". My favorite one from this collection was "Truth or Consequences" as it hit home for me personally and my life pre-pandemic.
Leigh Stein's What to Miss When, written during the Coronavirus pandemic, is possibly the most of-the-moment book I've ever read. Her quarantine-centric poetry is lush with references, ranging from Boccaccio's Decameron to the 2020 film Palm Springs. Many of these allusions would be lost on members of earlier or later generations, but I, as a millennial, seem to be in Stein's target audience. I felt a wink and a nudge from the author as I contemplated both Tiger King and Mary Oliver, like we were in this pandemic together. Not all of the poems moved me, but there were plenty of zingers and plenty of moments that her words washed over me with the cool ennui of 2020.
Some really excellent poems hidden between some real boring ones. ("Heretic," "Think Starlight," "Halo Lighting for Amateurs") I have always loves Stein's pop culture-laden perspectives but I often found myself wishing she would let herself be more vulnerable. Not a huge fan of the pandemic angle (will have to re-evaluate in a few years), not as charmed by the movie references as I was in Dispatch. It usually felt like Stein was hiding behind her modern references, like she almost wanted to say something daring and real and raw, but couldn't let herself go there completely. (She seems to be aware of this, see "Vulnerability Hangover," but doesn't remedy it.)
I have a lot of thoughts I don't think I'll share about this book. Often, I find that 'satirical' poetry is written as though it is invulnerable. This is satire, it's a joke, it's light-hearted...it's really not that deep. I think I'll wait maybe another three years to read pandemic poetry. Or, I'll try reading pandemic poetry from people who either a) are writing outside the WFH/"Quar" perspective or b) acknowledge that such a perspective exists.
While there were certainly moments of brightness and provocation in this collection, I felt that What To Miss When could have benefited from marinating a bit longer. My overall impression was that it was a bit trite, words mashed together and published for the novelty of being one of the first poetry collections to cover the malaise of quarantine.
What I find most interesting about Leigh Stein is her ability to keep forcing us to hold the mirror to ourselves … and to keep holding it up.
At the same time however, she knows we can’t do that for too long, all too aware of our weaknesses and lack of self-awareness.
In her first collection of poetry in ten years, crediting her own ability to curb her drinking; thereby fueling her inspiration, Stein doesn’t hesitate to follow up one of my favorite novels that I’ve read this year, Self Care (June 2020), with more scathing truths about ourselves; most notably our hypocrisy.
I too tend to keep applauding when slapped in the face with reality.
“What to Miss When makes mischief of reality TV and wellness influencers, juicy thoughtcrimes and love languages, and the mixed messages of contemporary feminism.”
Part poetry, part social commentary, part parody and all parts why I read her work. ‘The narcissism of small differences is my universal theme.”
Nevertheless, in the selection Thrive, she continues to hold the mirror steady so that “When I’m ready for my nervous breakdown, it will be on my terms; this is America, where we livestream our freedom to hurt and call it content.”
In the poem, American History, it is only in America, where “liberty means freedom to make choices relative to your income bracket,” and ‘Karen’ is a woman who hasn’t learned how to correctly aim her rage.” Yes, What to Miss When was written during the pandemic: In Think Starlight, the first poem,
“Think Starlight, it took so long to touch us, we trusted we were spared.”
And yes, Stein did find inspiration in Boccaccio’s 14th century book, The Decameron; however,
“I must be some basic bitch to click “Decameron and Chill?” in Town & Country,” (Plague as Literary Motif), but this time it’s only Stein sharing the stories and it is we, the captive audience, secluded in our homes to escape the Black Death, pretending that our online lives aren’t our real lives.
I imagine like Emily, Stein prefers inside over out, working overtime on something that continues to touch the interior of our mind.
19$ lipstick, a shade called Anarchy (This was before the protests inspired Soho storefronts to elevate their plywood barricades with platitudes to prevent the destruction of luxury.)
Going somewhere just to say I went there isn’t what I miss. It’s the luxury of time I had when I was young and my mind was an autonomous zone, unregulated by the tiny slot machine I keep touching to see if this time I’ve won.
Truth or Consequences, MN was put on the map for poets to find
cul-de-sac: French for road to nowhere
juicy thoughtcrime: we’re starving for someone to blame for our broken systems
skincare became our collective coping mechanism
perform femininity by claiming you cannot control yourself around ice cream cake
internecine warfare of freelance feminists
ouevre of sixteen thousand tweets
now my body is a woman I remember: we both clicked yes to accept the new terms of service
I’d like to speak to the manager of this simulation
in the attention economy, there’s no incentive for reticence, like there is for laughing wild amid severest woe
Like Emily, I prefer inside over out, to sit in the same white dress, working overtime on something that might touch the interior of my beloved’s mind —yours.
Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home.
Let your body be a body in motion until your mind travels beyond the territory of your own despair. The world goes on, the wild geese keep crying for us to look up from the page.
If you don’t believe in an afterlife, you must seek all your glory here on earth.
Leigh Stein’s poems sit at the nexus of the intellectual ideals we strive for and the absurdity of our daily reality. In verse that alludes to classic literature on up to modern thought and pop culture and back again, she emphasizes the ways we want to be helpful but not if it means putting ourselves in danger, the ways we criticize inconsistencies as we try, and fail, to be consistent ourselves.
In “Memorial Day,” Stein grapples with the fact that acknowledging the significance of so many others forces us to acknowledge our own insignificance. In “Wild Geese,” she points out how much of our lives, particularly online, have become performative, urging us to live for ourselves rather than for the latest admonition: “Let your body / be a body in motion / until your mind travels / beyond the territory / of your own despair.”
Otherwise, she just has some great phrases, the personal–“Mark thinks I’m afraid of commitment, / but I always follow through / on my worst instincts”–and the political–“this is America, / where we livestream our freedom / to hurt and call it content.”
Certain lines feel a little too trendy or like they’re plucking the low hanging fruit of religious blindness or bite-sized attention spans. Others almost seem dated already since many of them come from 2020. Of course, right after thinking this I came across her poem “Outside Time,” which suggests that previous writers like Emily Dickinson were able to embed the universal in the trappings of their time. So maybe Stein is just as adept at doing the same.
If you haven’t read Leigh Stein you seriously need to check your V Card.
Stein’s latest gem, is a collection of poems that examines COVID life through an exceptionally honest female lens. I just adore her commentary on the digital self and especially how it has evolved in an even further isolated, compressed Zoom box. When your screen goes black, Stein’s words will reflect back onto you.
Here are some of my favourite passages:
In “Let’s Beauty Together,” Stein writes: “I apply glycolic acid to the only face I’m allowed to touch. I’m exfoliating until someone asks me what’s really wrong.” Ugh, she is so goooood! We are always quick to laser, scrub and fill all of our physical insecurities but where are the Groupons for mental health?
In “Thrive,” Stein writes, “When I’m ready for my nervous breakdown, it will be on my terms; this is America, where we livestream our freedom to hurt and call it content.” Is digital vulnerability real? Is everything performative now for likes and reshares??
And my favourite, in “Museum Studies,” I miss … “the luxury of time I had when I was young and my mind was an autonomous zone, unregulated by the tiny slot machine I keep touching to see if this time I’ve won.” You can’t win the Internet, but we are all trapped in some form of this game. Do you remember your analog self? Where did they go?
Each one of her poems is fodder for any book club discussion or deep self contemplation.
Continuing with my poetry reading experimentations. This one promised to be funny. I mean, there were pages and pages or praise preceding these poems that promised funny. That’s no joke for a book that’s only 128 pages to begin with. And the thing is, these poems were ok, but not especially funny. The last two years have given plenty of material for humorous observations, albeit on the morbid side. These poems kind of hit that, but also kind of do their own thing. There is some clever social commentary, but not as much as one might have liked or hoped for. It might be a good personal representation of the author’s experience, but it doesn’t have the wildly clever and oh so relatable universality of, say, Bo Burnham’s awesome Inside. If you haven’t seen that, do yourself a favor and watch it immediately. And then again. It’s that good. This book, it’s just kind of there. Middle of the road, at best, but read quickly.
a witty collection filled with references of American millennial life, sometimes in a rambling form of thoughts seemingly without connection, but relevant in that they filled the mind of someone in the specific conditions of: in quarantine, young and safe, on the internet. a few meaningful lines every few poems, most of it I breezed through without impact or relation
With a critical eye toward culture through the isolation of the pandemic, Stein offers a wry and perceptive collection of poems. Her style isn’t my cup of tea (which is any poetry that conjures within me a desire to put words on paper), but I commend this collection for being gutsy, subversive, and honest. Definitely worth checking out.
Pandemic poetry. I'm not sure I was quite ready for this collection of poems. Many of the poems were relatable and fun to read. A few of them, I didn't quite connect to. Overall, I think that this collection was humorous and charming. (3.5 stars)