Kay Ryan: Elephant Rocks

My opinion of our current Poet Laureate went through the quickest evolution I have ever experienced. It was contempt at first sight. The first few poems I read--not necessarily the first in the book, but a preliminary flip-through--were bland and unremarkable. They weren't bad, just sub-laureate.

Beth swore they were good, so I persevered. How long does it take to read a book of poetry, after all? As I progressed on, the poems developed a sort of charm for me. My opinion went from "She's trying to be Dickinson" to "She's reminiscent of Dickinson". Indeed, although the topics are. . . odder than Dickinson would choose, the tone and rhythms are right on the money. As with the Belle of Amherst, the poems feel like interior monologues, as though they are being wondered aloud. The rhymes are always surprising, occurring where one doesn't expect them. Sometimes a word hit the end of a line, and I would go back looking for the word it rhymed with--only to find that there wasn't one. Words such as "Delightful" and "Whimsical" started coming to my mind.

As I read on, it got old. The slant rhyming especially ceased to feel whimsical, and began to feel lazy. It reminded me of The Sugar Hill Gang or some other seminal R&B group, so taken with their innovation that the fact a word almost rhymed was enough, and they would slow down and emphasize it. Lame. I thought my irritation was a factor of my mood, so put it down for a few days. Nope. Still lame.

Which is not to say that her ideas are not cute, and even profound on occasion, just that they get old. I can even picture taking a few of them and teaching them in a lesson on line breaks or fancy rhyming. A whole book though? Bleah. And a laurel? Please.