Stephanie Burt succeeds with the goals she states in the subtitle, the introduction, and several reminders later in the book.
“If this book works as I hope it will, you will evolve your own reasons for liking poems too, however you find more of them (in anthologies, on websites, in single-author volumes, via audio or video): they will be reasons not wholly congruent with my own six categories (feeling, character, technique, difficulty, wisdom, and community).
Burt sometimes commands readers: "Don’t assume poetry ever means only one thing, other than maybe a set of tools for making things with words, as music means a set of tools (beats, rhythms, harmonies, textures, instruments) for making things with sounds.” Usually, however, she encourages readers to judge for themselves the individual poems she quotes AND any other poems they choose to read: “The more you learn about poetic techniques—about what rhyme can do, how line breaks work, about the uses of zeugma and anthimeria and a thousand other techniques that you might recognize and enjoy without every looking up the names for them—the more you can like, and the more you will be able to say about what you like and why.”
Burt's political stand appears explicitly in some of her declarations: “Too often, school-approved literary history has placed (whether or not the teachers intended to do so) white, rich, urban, cisgender men at the center, treating their experience as universal and other poets as special cases.” She consistently urges readers to think for themselves: “Such monumental models (canons, if you like) can be useful guides but also (sometimes inadvertent) bullies, discouraging you from reading widely, from loving obscurity, from figuring out what you really like, as against what you’re supposed to like or what will be on the test."
Burt's broad critical approach includes dozens of individual poems, background information about the poets, and her informed reasons for including them. The six "categories" in the chapters overlap and never become rigid as features of judgment. They expand rather than limit ways to read and hear poems. An analogy late in the book reinforces that overlap.
“The TV chef Alton Brown likes to say that his kitchens have (with one exception) no single-taskers, no implements, like a grapefruit spoon, that will do only one thing. The limited space on his shelves is, instead, reserved for tools that can accomplish many tasks in many recipes: skewers, slotted spoons, a quality knife. You can say the same thing about the mental ‘shelf space’ that we reserve for our favorite poems. Some poems become famous fast, or matter a great deal to certain readers, because they’re so good at just one thing, like a fire extinguisher (Brown’s one exception). But the poems that stick around for decades or centuries, the poems that outlast typewrites and survive revolutions, are usually more like pans and knives: they can speak to many readers in many ways, have many uses, can do many things.”