She Felt Like Feeling Nothing by r.h. Sin
My Rating: 1.5/5 TARDISes
Date Published: April 10th, 2018
Publisher: Andrews McMeel Publishing
Pages: 144 pages
Synopsis: From the bestselling author of the Whiskey, Words, and a Shovel series comes this poetic reminder of women’s strength.
There are moments when the heart no longer wishes to feel because everything it’s felt up until then has brought it nothing but anguish. In She Felt Like Feeling Nothing, r.h. Sin pursues themes of self-discovery and retrospection. With this book, the poet intends to create a safe space where women can rest their weary hearts and focus on themselves.
*I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review*
This is r.h. Sin’s newest collection, and though it was slightly better than Planting Gardens in Graves, it still felt incredibly underwhelming. Once again, my biggest complaint is the repetitiveness of the subject matter. I feel like the more collections I read, the less engaged with the text I become. And I absolutely hate to feel that way because I truly believe Sin could be a good writer and feminist voice.
Rehashing the same topic does not do justice to what skill he might have as a writer, and it overshadows the way he is trying to capture complex emotions in such a short space. I am feeling like less and less heart and substance is being put into these words. His use of the short, simple poems or phrases is feeling even more forced and random—it is not contributing to whatever sincerity or impact he is attempting to convey.
This time around, Sin put in some connection between some of his poems, making a bit of a story out of them. While I absolutely love that idea, the only problem with it was the fact that every poem is essentially the same, just worded differently. In fact, that was the case for the entire collection. The more I read his work, the worse my opinion becomes—mainly because of the predictability subject-wise—but also because it comes across as patronizing and self-absorbed.
While reading his work, I always come to some point where I feel like he’s treating us more like objects or—dare I say it—”mansplaining” our emotions, and even what it’s like to be a woman, to us. These poems feel less like speaking up to empower women and more like Sin bragging about the fact that he thinks he is the best man/partner in the world because he is supposedly the only one who understands absolutely everything about women.
I realize that my reviews of his collections are getting extremely repetitive, but they are reflecting the exact same feeling I’m getting from his work. It is the same condescending, somewhat contradicting, and occasionally crude musings on the same topics in every single collection. He needs to be more unique. We need more of the originality that I believe he could be capable of giving. I am interested in reading his Whisky, Words, and a Shovel trilogy of poetry collections, but going forward, I am not sure that the chance of me picking up any of his future works will be particularly high.