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ptstewart's review against another edition
3.0
Heavy Is The Head is a beautiful and exhausting collection in its work with blackness, womanhood, and black womanhood. The speaker confronts gender violence and race violence, mixed feelings about motherhood, and the ongoing challenge of trying to take up space as a black woman without offending the entire world. (I’d like to add here that as a white woman, I can neither comprehend nor effectively critique the expression of the female black experience as presented in this collection; I can merely respond to the work and assess the poetry itself while trying to frame it somewhat within the bounds to which I have fair claim, which is white womanhood). The speaker navigates fear and sorrow and sprays the whole thing in a fine mist of female rage, which is both effective and encouraging. We can see ourselves in some of these lines.
But every morning I have to wake / up and do my best impression of a moving target (Disposable)
You come here trying to make a meal out of me? / I will eat you alive. (Dark Chocolate)
You’re not always blameless. Sometimes you speak. Sometimes you leave the / house. Sometimes you say no and mean it. Each time you get uglier…/ You’re not guiltless, sometimes you breathe. (Scapegoat)
I feel most woman when I’m bleeding all over the carpet. There is nothing I / know better than to blend in with the scenery, than to make violence tender. (Girlhood, pt. 2)
The speaker expertly uses language in these areas to evoke emotion and address experiences that have been simultaneously buried and unearthed thousands of times. It is not an easy read for this reason; if your life as a woman is complicated, or you are wrestling with your womanhood as you enter adulthood, Heavy Is The Head does not allow its reader to escape unaffected by its assessment of the female—and the black female—perspective.
However, weaknesses arrive regularly in the form of a recurring ex; the poet’s conception of love and devotion to this character seem somewhat trivial and showcase some of the weakest and most imprecise work of the collection.
I place my tongue to the roof of my mouth / and say love, but your name comes out instead. / Your name, / also four letters. / Your name, / everything I want. ([Blank])
I hope you tell them about how you woke up one morning to discover I was / gone, / almost as if I was never really there, / leaving behind only the realization, / that I finally did it: / I finally left. (That Pit In Your Stomach Is Just The Hole I Carved When I Left)
It was going so well until you had to go and ruin it by calling me your dream / girl.
…
You tasted like / the rest of my life. I just wasn’t starving anymore. (Dream Girl)
The age and subsequent wealth of experience of the poet is obvious in these lines in a way that it is not in lines and stanzas that face womanhood and blackness with ferocity and grief. Rather, in lines meant clearly to convey longing and depression about the loss of this relationship, as well as anger, we are introduced to a speaker who seems palpably twenty-something, openly Gen Z. It is in these lines that the work becomes less accessible as it becomes more specific. Part of the excellence of the poems on blackness, girlhood, womanhood, familial structure, and the complicated relationships between women and the men in their lives is that we as readers can see ourselves in the language. We are familiar with the feeling of exiting our homes and knowing we are not safe, and familiar with being used and managing the expectations to be soft and nurturing. Poetry does not have to be relatable, nor does it have to be for anyone beyond the speaker. However, I argue that Heavy Is The Head finds its achievement in its communication of these immense experiences with the reader; to then exclude the reader by means of personal specificities is disappointing. There are lines that are reminiscent of the brainchild behind Rupi Kaur’s work: that mundanity (especially in language) such as leaving are poetic, or that the unique (and possibly infuriating) experience of being referred to as someone’s dream girl is universal. The violence, rejection, and abandonment characterized in these particular poems is more tangible to the average reader, but it becomes lost in the adherence to detail the speaker’s own life. Further, the uniqueness of some of these poems create a divide in the collection, which begins to feel as if it is three quarters about one thing, and one quarter about an early twenties break up.
Overall, the front half of Heavy Is The Head largely glows, while its second portion becomes somewhat less impressive as it reflects an individual personal life in almost equal measure to the broader and altogether more relatable challenge of being a woman.
Once again, my review does not fully assess the work here in relation to its analysis of blackness and brownness, as I cannot speak to these in the realm of being a personal relatable experience.
But every morning I have to wake / up and do my best impression of a moving target (Disposable)
You come here trying to make a meal out of me? / I will eat you alive. (Dark Chocolate)
You’re not always blameless. Sometimes you speak. Sometimes you leave the / house. Sometimes you say no and mean it. Each time you get uglier…/ You’re not guiltless, sometimes you breathe. (Scapegoat)
I feel most woman when I’m bleeding all over the carpet. There is nothing I / know better than to blend in with the scenery, than to make violence tender. (Girlhood, pt. 2)
The speaker expertly uses language in these areas to evoke emotion and address experiences that have been simultaneously buried and unearthed thousands of times. It is not an easy read for this reason; if your life as a woman is complicated, or you are wrestling with your womanhood as you enter adulthood, Heavy Is The Head does not allow its reader to escape unaffected by its assessment of the female—and the black female—perspective.
However, weaknesses arrive regularly in the form of a recurring ex; the poet’s conception of love and devotion to this character seem somewhat trivial and showcase some of the weakest and most imprecise work of the collection.
I place my tongue to the roof of my mouth / and say love, but your name comes out instead. / Your name, / also four letters. / Your name, / everything I want. ([Blank])
I hope you tell them about how you woke up one morning to discover I was / gone, / almost as if I was never really there, / leaving behind only the realization, / that I finally did it: / I finally left. (That Pit In Your Stomach Is Just The Hole I Carved When I Left)
It was going so well until you had to go and ruin it by calling me your dream / girl.
…
You tasted like / the rest of my life. I just wasn’t starving anymore. (Dream Girl)
The age and subsequent wealth of experience of the poet is obvious in these lines in a way that it is not in lines and stanzas that face womanhood and blackness with ferocity and grief. Rather, in lines meant clearly to convey longing and depression about the loss of this relationship, as well as anger, we are introduced to a speaker who seems palpably twenty-something, openly Gen Z. It is in these lines that the work becomes less accessible as it becomes more specific. Part of the excellence of the poems on blackness, girlhood, womanhood, familial structure, and the complicated relationships between women and the men in their lives is that we as readers can see ourselves in the language. We are familiar with the feeling of exiting our homes and knowing we are not safe, and familiar with being used and managing the expectations to be soft and nurturing. Poetry does not have to be relatable, nor does it have to be for anyone beyond the speaker. However, I argue that Heavy Is The Head finds its achievement in its communication of these immense experiences with the reader; to then exclude the reader by means of personal specificities is disappointing. There are lines that are reminiscent of the brainchild behind Rupi Kaur’s work: that mundanity (especially in language) such as leaving are poetic, or that the unique (and possibly infuriating) experience of being referred to as someone’s dream girl is universal. The violence, rejection, and abandonment characterized in these particular poems is more tangible to the average reader, but it becomes lost in the adherence to detail the speaker’s own life. Further, the uniqueness of some of these poems create a divide in the collection, which begins to feel as if it is three quarters about one thing, and one quarter about an early twenties break up.
Overall, the front half of Heavy Is The Head largely glows, while its second portion becomes somewhat less impressive as it reflects an individual personal life in almost equal measure to the broader and altogether more relatable challenge of being a woman.
Once again, my review does not fully assess the work here in relation to its analysis of blackness and brownness, as I cannot speak to these in the realm of being a personal relatable experience.
manderzreadz's review against another edition
1.0
Thank you to NetGalley for granting me access to this set of poetry for a review.
This book was more prose than poetry, and very repetitive and not very engaging. Yes, it tackled hard subjects which I applaud, but it was not done in any way that gave any hope or encouragement. Overall, it was a very hard read to get through.
This book was more prose than poetry, and very repetitive and not very engaging. Yes, it tackled hard subjects which I applaud, but it was not done in any way that gave any hope or encouragement. Overall, it was a very hard read to get through.
arianna171's review against another edition
5.0
this book made me find my love of poetry after a long reading slump
keelreads's review against another edition
4.0
Heavy is the Head is a beautiful and heavy collection of poetry exploring experiences that are incredibly human.
Enyegue's poetry was charged with so much emotion centering around trauma and healing, mental health, and other topics that way so many people down. I cried while in awe of Enyegue's eloquence with her words when discussing topics such as mental health, sexual assult, and being black. It was like a gut-punch as I realized that though each person's experience is different, the emotions and pain of trauma can be universal.
I cannot wait to get my hands of a physical copy!
Enyegue's poetry was charged with so much emotion centering around trauma and healing, mental health, and other topics that way so many people down. I cried while in awe of Enyegue's eloquence with her words when discussing topics such as mental health, sexual assult, and being black. It was like a gut-punch as I realized that though each person's experience is different, the emotions and pain of trauma can be universal.
I cannot wait to get my hands of a physical copy!
audgee122's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
reflective
slow-paced
4.0
Enyegue’s work is heavy to the point of seeming daunting on an initial press, but yielding to this collection and absorbing it was rewarding. Each poem’s structure is rock solid, and I was taken back at how good the sequencing was. I’d definitely recommend this to folks.
feefs_'s review against another edition
4.0
Thank you, NetGalley for this ARC!
I am without words. My heart hurts and I am glad because I can have a deeper understanding now about the topics addressed in this book. I know a lot of us have gone through it or know someone personally that has also gone through it. One of my favorite things about poetry books is that we are able to get a glimpse of the mind of the author and boy oh boy did we get a glimpse here in this book. I think Sumaya's mind is incredible and I want to give her a hug for all that she endured.
I am without words. My heart hurts and I am glad because I can have a deeper understanding now about the topics addressed in this book. I know a lot of us have gone through it or know someone personally that has also gone through it. One of my favorite things about poetry books is that we are able to get a glimpse of the mind of the author and boy oh boy did we get a glimpse here in this book. I think Sumaya's mind is incredible and I want to give her a hug for all that she endured.
moony_reads's review against another edition
5.0
ARC REVIEW
This debut collection is powerful, angry and honest - Enyegue tackles heavy topics, from generational trauma and mental illness to rape and blackness. Her ability to write a vulnerable refusal to accept that the current is not okay is inspiring and understandable, and her titles are poignant and gripping.
Enyegue captures womanhood, trauma and bitterness in a way that forces the world to see her.
Thank you to NetGalley and Central Avenue Publishing for the ARC.
This debut collection is powerful, angry and honest - Enyegue tackles heavy topics, from generational trauma and mental illness to rape and blackness. Her ability to write a vulnerable refusal to accept that the current is not okay is inspiring and understandable, and her titles are poignant and gripping.
Enyegue captures womanhood, trauma and bitterness in a way that forces the world to see her.
Thank you to NetGalley and Central Avenue Publishing for the ARC.
pussnb00ks's review against another edition
5.0
thank you netgalley for the e-arc!
This was a stunning collection of poetry. The poems are not easy, they don't go down smoothly, they burn and poke and expose very ugly things you have no choice but to face head-on. But that is the point. For those who are not black, it is easy, and sometimes unconscious, to create a level of separation between us and the pain that comes with being black and a woman in today's world. This collection will not let you look away, no matter your race, gender, sexuality, or any other identity, this collection demands your attention. The author does not shy away from difficult topics, she embraces them in a way that is raw, unwavering, vulnerable, and beautiful. I need a physical copy of this so I can annotate it and then force all my friends to read it. Incredible.
This was a stunning collection of poetry. The poems are not easy, they don't go down smoothly, they burn and poke and expose very ugly things you have no choice but to face head-on. But that is the point. For those who are not black, it is easy, and sometimes unconscious, to create a level of separation between us and the pain that comes with being black and a woman in today's world. This collection will not let you look away, no matter your race, gender, sexuality, or any other identity, this collection demands your attention. The author does not shy away from difficult topics, she embraces them in a way that is raw, unwavering, vulnerable, and beautiful. I need a physical copy of this so I can annotate it and then force all my friends to read it. Incredible.
tipsybookworm's review against another edition
4.0
Thank you, Central Avenue Publishing, for an arc in exchange for an honest review.
Enyegue’s debut poetry collection is a force to be reckoned with. A bold, gutting and honest expression of the human experience, girlhood and blackness.
I’ve followed Sumaya Enyegue’s work online for quite a few years now. She has a very distinct and powerful voice that is evident in every piece. This collection was visceral, evocative and comforting. I enjoyed the overarching imagery tying the collection together in a cohesive way.
I cannot wait to buy a physical copy of this collection to annotate and tab my favourite pieces. If you like spoken word artists from Button Poetry, you’ll enjoy Sumaya’s collection.
Enyegue’s debut poetry collection is a force to be reckoned with. A bold, gutting and honest expression of the human experience, girlhood and blackness.
I’ve followed Sumaya Enyegue’s work online for quite a few years now. She has a very distinct and powerful voice that is evident in every piece. This collection was visceral, evocative and comforting. I enjoyed the overarching imagery tying the collection together in a cohesive way.
I cannot wait to buy a physical copy of this collection to annotate and tab my favourite pieces. If you like spoken word artists from Button Poetry, you’ll enjoy Sumaya’s collection.