A review by versmonesprit
Food by Gertrude Stein
challenging
fast-paced
0.25
I wanted to love this, I really did. And at first I indeed did, the first titled poem, Roastbeef, was amazing! It was pure language without foregoing some sort of sense. I found myself smiling while reading!
And then things took a dive, very fast. I read all these out loud, and by just the third poem, I was exhausted, I barely had the breath in me. I was no longer able to find anything particularly enjoyable, and soon all sense was abandoned completely, with no rhythm or mastery of language to make up for it. Here and there, on rare occasions, I liked a few lines, but as a whole the book was a genuine stroke simulator. I even suspect Stein might have had a stroke while writing some of these. And I even suspected I was about to have an aneurysm myself, my brain hurt so badly it triggered a migraine attack. I am not alright.
And then things took a dive, very fast. I read all these out loud, and by just the third poem, I was exhausted, I barely had the breath in me. I was no longer able to find anything particularly enjoyable, and soon all sense was abandoned completely, with no rhythm or mastery of language to make up for it. Here and there, on rare occasions, I liked a few lines, but as a whole the book was a genuine stroke simulator. I even suspect Stein might have had a stroke while writing some of these. And I even suspected I was about to have an aneurysm myself, my brain hurt so badly it triggered a migraine attack. I am not alright.