The Most of It

Let me begin by stating that this book was a stretch for me, so some of my response may be a pulled muscle. Har har. My reading diet used to include some poetry, but I rarely read it in middle age. Some list or other recommended “The Most of It,” and I thought it was worth a go.

This collection of poem/essays is something. And that something is often not very good, such as “The Diary,” which had me rolling my eyes from sentience one; it was like the output of a junior high writing exercise. Babyish, really. Other times, the thought of the narrator are just dumb and spiral out of control dumbly, such as in “A Glass of Water” or “Hard-Boiled Detective.” I am not irritated by a lack of education here, but the author trying way too hard to present thoughts that are just trying way too hard. Spare me from such stuff!! When I throw a book down in disgust (a library book, so I wasn't as violent as I would have been with a book I owned), that is a clear indication.

From time to time, the imagery or stream of consciousness presentation did work, such as “My Pet, My Clock” or “Woman With a Yellow Scarf.” Even those two pieces, which did stick to my ribs a little afterwards, fell apart at certain points.

Just to make sure I wasn't being too closed-minded or thinking things through, I read both selections that I felt were bottom of the barrel and top of the heap to my boyfriend. Subsequently, we discussed the poem/essays and I found that I could further crystallize exactly what was lacking in this book and where the few shining moments were. I will not present the dissections here, although I'd love to further discuss this book should the opportunity arise. To sum up the lab results, the selections carry a good idea or image that just never gets fleshed out OR, even worse, are just plain ruined with nonsense. Not Wodehouseian nonsense, either.

“Surely you can tell I am pretending to write.” [from “If All the World Were Paper] That quote pretty much sums up what Ms. Reufle is doing; lame attempts at whimsy, too sloppy (at least not in that good way), and not worth the hour taken to read it.