Overused Words in Poetry Reviews
I read a lot of poetry, and I read and write a lot of poetry reviews. I have a rule about reading poetry reviews, however: if I’m reviewing a book of poetry, I don’t read anyone else’s review until after I’ve written my own.
Poetry reviews come in all shapes and sizes, from the blurbs on the front and back covers of poetry books to the extended, in-depth and often footnoted reviews in Poetry Magazine and American Poets. Typically, reviews of poetry books are by other poets, most likely because most of the people reading poetry books these days tend to be other poets. (This is a corollary to my poetry theorem that only three people in the United States make a living from writing poetry, and two of them are Billy Collins.)
If you regularly read poetry reviews, after a while you begin to notice something. It’s not that all poetry reviews tend to sound alike. They don’t; they are as diverse as the people writing them and the poets the reviewers are writing about.
But reviews do tend to have something in common.
Certain words.
Certain words that are used to the point of overuse. Trite. Banal. Boring.
It’s almost as if you can’t write a poetry review without including at least one or two of these words.
Or, poets run out of things to say about the poetry of others, and so revert to the stereotype of the high school junior who has to write a paper on Spring and All by William Carlos Williams and finds a list of key words in an online poetry review.
I’ve identified six words, all adjectives, which I’m nominating for “The Most Overused Words in Poetry Reviews Hall of Fame.” I also have three contenders.
If one adjective wins the National Book Award for most overused word, it’s “luminous.” Some days it’s hard to find a poetry review that doesn’t use “luminous” to describe the poems, the verses, the words, the lines, or even the title. Some reviewers seem to be conscious of this overuse, and turn to a variation on the theme—instead of being luminous, a collection or a poem is “filled with luminosity.” Or they’ll fall back on the shorter and not quite as fetching word “lucent, ” or become really inventive and substitute “incandescent.”
I see the word “luminous, ” and I think light bulbs. Thomas Edison. Fluorescent lights. High school physics and formulas for measuring lumens. Halogen bulbs. The rotten light bulbs the U.S. EPA is making us replace the good ones with.
Not poems.
We have a strong runner-up for the most overused word in poetry reviews: “breathtaking, ” or my favorite variation on it, “literally breathtaking.” I read a poetry review this week in which the writer claimed the poems “literally took my breath away.” Unfortunately for the rest of us, the reviewer’s condition didn’t last; she survived the experience.
I have read poems that struck me with beauty and insight, or used words and metaphors in new and interesting ways. But I have yet to read a poem, any poem, which took my breath away. And no collection can take your breath away for the duration of reading it, since even the shorter collections take anywhere from 30 to 45 minutes to read. Try having your breath taken away for that long.
Another overused word is “exhilarating.” Roller coaster rides are exhilarating. So is bungee jumping. I might be impressed or moved by a poem or an entire collection, but exhilarated? I read a poem that has me racing around the block in a frenzy, frightening the neighbors? I don’t think so. Yet there it is, showing up in poetry reviews like the proverbial bad penny.
Then we have the more staid “engaging, ” as in, “Her poems are invariably engaging.” Well, yes. Tell me something I don’t know. If a poem wasn’t engaging, I would not likely be reading it, would I, and that applies to entire collections as well. Publishers of poetry generally don’t print books that aren’t engaging in some way. Telling me someone’s poetry is engaging is like telling me I need oxygen to breathe, especially after reading something breathtaking (literally).
One adjective I’ve begun to see more and more in poetry reviews is “miraculous.” It’s not the most overused word in reviews, but it may win the prize for being the most overstated. I have yet to read or hear of a poem that cured disease, won someone the $400 million lottery, or stopped planes from crashing. How this word came to find itself in poetry reviews is beyond me, unless the reviewer was overcome by luminosity to the point of having their breath taken away (literally), and read a poem that restored their breathing to normal. Then it would be okay to use “miraculous.”
When all other overused words fail, there’s always that old standby, “profound.” Of all the overused words, this one probably has the strongest element of truth in it. Poems, and their lines and images, can be profound. What usually happens with this word in reviews, however, is that the reviewer rarely tells us why a poem or collection is profound. The statement is simply thrown out there, and we’re left in complete puzzlement, or at least have our breath taken away (literally) so that we can’t ask why it’s so profound.
Three words are emerging as contenders as the most overused in poetry reviews.
I find the word “legendary” a bit presumptuous. It usually takes longer than the time for one poetry reading to determine if something is legendary. People who use this word likely spend too much time on Twitter, where any trend lasting longer than an hour becomes legendary.
“Urgent” is in the same category as miraculous. Precious few poems in this world could be called urgent, unless they’re about rushing one’s wife to the hospital to have a baby. But it’s showing up more in reviews.
And the contender I find most fascinating is “oracular.” Oracular? As in, like an oracle? Seriously?
If you find a luminous poem that takes your breath away (literally), please let me know. It would be urgent and exhilarating, not to mention miraculously profound. The writer of such an engaging poem may even become instantly legendary, or at least oracular.
Oracular? Seriously?
Photo by Ed Ivanushkin, Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Glynn Young, author of the novels Dancing Priest and A Light Shining, and Poetry at Work.
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Martha Orlando says
You certainly made me chuckle today, Glynn! Not that I review any poetry, but I will certainly be on the out look for those words, my friend. 🙂
Glynn says
Thanks for reading, Martha!
Sandra Heska King says
This takes my breath away.
Glynn says
(Literally)?
L. L. Barkat says
Most amusing!
And I know you’ve used the word “profound” in reviews before, so I figure you are poking a little fun at yourself as well with this. Reviewing is a special talent. One of my favorite reviews ever of one of my own books was from a journalist who had a real flair with reviews. He told me that the trick is to show a certain kind of personality in the review. My favorite line from his:
“This is the kind of spring from which tours de force.” Contender: “To state the pleasurable, Barkat is a damn fine writer.” Whether or not anyone agrees with him, it’s clear he has a personality he exerts in his reviews.
(Next up: you need to write a post on how to actually review a poetry collection 🙂 )
Glynn says
True confession: To my shame, I have used the word “luminous,” in a poetry review. Once. But like the raven said, “Nevermore!”
L. L. Barkat says
I think it’s okay to do that. Luminous is a lovely word. And poems can give a kind of metaphoric light to us. Probably good to let the word go once it becomes too popular. ( I do believe you once called my poems luminous! A few years ago 🙂 )
L. L. Barkat says
One more thought about this. Why do you suppose reviewers come to use these words? (And then, at some point, overuse.) Is there something about poetry in particular that begs for such language? Also, there have been times when I really do catch my breath (if only momentarily) when reading something that has a strong impact (though “breathtaking” is one of my taboo words). This makes me think of Emily Dickinson’s “top of your head off” reference—as to how we know something is good. In other words, the best writing (poetry or prose) often produces a physical response.
Laura Brown says
I think sometimes it’s simply the mouthfeel of a word. I’ll have what she’s having/I’ll say what he’s saying. It reminds me of this very small piece (poem? short story?) by Lydia Davis. (Let’s see if I can get the formatting right.)
They Take Turns Using a Word They Like
“It’s extraordinary,” says one woman.
“It is extraordinary,” says the other.
Heather Eure says
There’s a challenge! How does one write a poetry review without sounding like a twit? We need a second part. You can’t leave us hanging. DAZZLE us, Glynn!!
(Pretty sure “dazzle” rounds out the top 10)
Monica Sharman says
What does it mean for a poem to give off unnatural yellow light (’cause that’s what “incandescent” makes me think of)?
This is the funniest part: “Unfortunately for the rest of us.” I did a double-take before realizing it was supposed to be “unfortunately” instead of “fortunately”!
Glynn says
Monica, you have to watch those sneaky poetry reviewers. They can sometimes be oracular.
Erin Lyndal Martin says
This was hilarious and I enjoyed reading! I noticed this bit as well, the part about it being unfortunate the reviewer survived. I know, I know, hyperbole and riffing off “breathtaking.” But joking that a reviewer should have died and therefore been unable to complete a review is just way, way, over the line.
L. L. Barkat says
On the spectrum of wit, definitely “dark.” And it’s always interesting to me what strikes people as too dark. (I tend to sit more on the middle of the spectrum, but some of my friends find dark humor extremely appealing.) What do you suppose makes the difference?
Marsha Reagan says
“Dark” is too gray-scale; how dark is dark? Need some luminescence here. So many vague adjectives – can’t we be explicit? Is this poem/collection for me or isn’t it? Praising has been done seven ways to Sunday. Unless we’re talking about an established, or really a famous poet, then do we really believe the praise before we read? Doesn’t it come off as pretentious or off-putting, (considering the source of said praise, of course). If it is, actually a “Bukowski” – it has to be the Bukowski or Plath or whomever; and they need no praising intro. – we already know. When writing blurbs or reviews, when do we get to say what we mean and mean what we say, artfully, descriptively – but, factually. Empty praise just seems so lazy. If she writes about her rude foolishness, drunken sexual excursions, walks of shame and lack of regret – tell me. I might want to actually read that more than about her profound, engaging, luminous and breathtakingly insightful reminiscences on miraculous, legendary, exhilarating experiences with urgent immediacy.
Mary Sayler says
Oh, Glynn! Your profound words are engaging and urgent, too, as they miraculously arrived just before I prepared to review a new book of poetry. Hopefully, I’ll avoid being oracular, but I do hope my reviews on the Poetry Editor & Poetry blog will become legendary in time. Sadly, so much poetry today is trite, banal, and boring, which makes me hold my breath, waiting for the end. Unfortunately, such poems are also l-o-n-g, which would literally take my breath away were it not for my strong belief that poetry is worth living for, never dying. So, with my thanks and blessings, I shall now highlight your luminous post on the Christian Poets & Writers blog for real 🙂 http://www.christianpoetsandwriters.com
Glynn says
Mary, thank you. Your words are achingly haunting (Hat Tip to Will Willingham for that favoriter poetry review phrase).
Trish Hopkinson says
Loved this! I just wrote my first lit mag review (which was mostly poetry) and I am proud to say I didn’t use any of these words :). This is my first time coming across your site and I’m looking forward to spending some time here.
Glynn says
Trish – that’s wonderful. Someone may accuse you of being original, however.
Sandra Heska King says
Welcome, Trish! We’re so happy to see you here! May I suggest you wander into the Mischief Cafe for a little orientation? We’ve got some cinnamon toast and tea waiting for you. 🙂
https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/mischief-cafe/
Glynn says
And beer. Don’t forget the beer.
Heather Eure says
I’ve got the beer funnel, Glynn. Unless we should do a celebratory keg stand, instead.
Rick Maxson says
Stunning essay! I am utterly speechless.
You forgot Mary Oliver and Mary Oliver; they make a pretty good living.
Glynn says
Rick, they’re the other one of the three.
Violet Nesdoly says
Enjoyed this, Glynn! Three words that I may overuse are “resonate,” “crafted” and “accessible” (that last because I like reviewing poetry that I get). Perhaps the solution to this overuse is to make up some new words. How about – urgendary; miracufound, breathgaging, lumocular?
Glynn says
That’s a limocular idea!
Surazeus Simon Seamount says
The oracular song of Orpheus glows
with luminous visions of profound hope
that fills my dark heart with urgent desire
to fly swift on wings of breathtaking faith
and dance with exhilarating compassion
on the legendary stage of illusion.
Glynn says
I like this!
Jody Lee Collins says
This was such a fun read AND I learned a new (mostly maligned) word–‘oracular.’ Seriously, that’s a word??
I am terrible at reviewing anything as details of why I enjoy something leak through my mind like a sieve (yes, Glynn, that cliche was on purpose.)
My one and only attempt at a book review on my blog was in response to Karen Swallow Prior’s “Booked-Literature in the Soul of Me.”. I wrote her a letter instead, telling her how much the book spoke to me. She enjoyed it immensely as did my readers. (Thank you TSPoetry Press).
Glynn says
I really enjoyed “Booked” as well. Thanks for reading and commenting, Jody.
Donna Hilbert says
Glynn,
Thanks for you take on reviews. It also applies to blurbs–the over-used positive words anyway. I long ago vowed to never write reviews, but I find myself committed to writing blurbs regularly & I find it harder than hell.
Donna Holbert
Donna Hilbert says
I miss-spelled my own name! More coffee.
Glynn says
I agree, Donna. Blurbs are harder – essentially a very compact review.
Robin Houghton says
Hehe. I think blurbs more so than reviews. It’s what the publishers (publicists?) want. ‘Sharp eyed’… ‘needed to be written’ (but possibly not read?) … ‘essential’ etc
L. L. Barkat says
On a totally different note, just needed to pass this along from Sara:
“It is so satisfying that there are six cherries.”
Who knew.
Laura Brown says
I must’ve been reading in “skip adverbs” mode, because I didn’t notice the “unfortunately.” But I noticed the 6 right away. She’s right. It is satisfying.
Ann Kroeker says
I assumed she picked the six-cherry photo on purpose!
S. Etole says
Are the cherries telling us those words are the pits?!
JC Reilly says
I love the humor here and the insight in this post. I don’t write reviews, but if I did, I’d certainly be aware of the words to avoid. Also, I’d point out that these words also creep into blurbs on the back of poetry books, time and again. You’d think, since the people who are generally writing the reviews are themselves poets, that we could be a little more unexpected in our language. Maybe now we can be!
Karen Paul Holmes says
Who woulda thought? Thanks for illuminating me. Good info and entertaining.
Ed Shacklee says
Thank you for these tart observations, which made me chuckle. Myself, I’d just as soon they slapped a poem on the back of a book instead of blurbs, which tend to have a lot of “blur” in them.
Maureen Doallas says
Re-viewing Our Reviews
so much depends
upon
getting good reviews
sometimes
we forget that
reading
poems is what
matters
Heather Eure says
Glynn, I liked the essay and the humor. If poetry is serious business, then sharing and discussing it needn’t always be SO serious. I laughed out loud (literally, none of that fake LOL stuff) with the “unfortunately for the rest of us…” bit.
It seems that overused words have some of their beauty deflated and their meaning diluted. As a result, those words become small.
Until they grow out of fashion.
Aidan Semmens says
Very droll, but you don’t seem to inhabit quite the same poetry world as me (maybe it’s a transatlantic thing, or maybe it’s stylistic preference): I may have to plead guilty to ‘engaging’ (not certain, but it seems possible), but I’m quite certain I’ve never even been tempted to use any of the other words you cite in any review, of poetry or anything else, and I can’t say I’m used to encountering them in that context either. If I read that a poem was ‘urgent’ I’d think it meant it caused the reviewer to dash to the loo (that’s ‘bathroom’ to you) 🙂
L. L. Barkat says
Aidan, that is ticklish. So… what six words are overused in the reviews you see?
Michael Flory Ogletree says
The shadow structure of a sestina — neat!
Megan Willome says
Loved this, Glynn! I like your policy of reading reviews after you read, especially if you’re going to review.
I think using adjectives in reviews, in general, is just lazy. They don’t say anything. Instead, give me specifics–what are the poems about? Who wrote them? Include a good one. Mention what didn’t quite work. Maybe include something personal,
(By the way, Glynn, these are things you already do.)
Diana Trautwein says
Great piece, great comment thread. Thank you.
Sheila Seiler Lagrand says
I propose that a League of Intrepid Poetry Reviewers be formed. Members of this league will make the following substitutions when tempted to use the words listed above. Then we’ll see if anybody notices.
Luminous —> lumiluscious
Breathtaking —> breaststaking
Exhilarating —> exhilaritating
Engaging —> engadabouting
Miraculous —> midalacritous
Profound —> prodhound
Legendary —> legerdemairy
Urgent —> ungulate
Oracular —> optacular
Further: I propose that membership in this league be open to anyone willing to learn the secret handshake and sport a ridiculous hat.
The charter board of directors shall consist of: Laura Barkat, Glynn Young, Laura Brown, Nancy Franson, Sandra King, Megan Willome, and Tania Runyan.
Hope S. says
For the record: I would be willing to start reviewing poetry simply so I could use the word “engadabouting.” The secret handshake and ridiculous hat are just a perk.
Sheila Lagrand says
I am smiling my legerdemairy smile.
Sandra Heska King says
Ha! I missed your original post, Sheila. Hystericicalicious.
Sheila Lagrand says
Indeediddly!
Carol A. Stephen says
A lot of reviews, rather than use the same tired words, go far beyond that into the realm of Who-knows-what-THAT-means. At least, many of the ones I have given up on reading. They use the same kinds of babbledegook wine-tasting pseudo-experts use. (I was heartened though when I read an interview with a poet where the interviewer used the same kind of language as he discussed the poet’s work. The poet kept saying “I don’t know what that means…” and then proceeded to answer in recognizable English.) I can’t offer examples because, not understanding the phrases either, I haven’t retained them.
I think my all-time top winner for overuse has to be evocative. We hardly ever learn what is actually evoked. And next, unfortunately, is accessible. I like accessible poetry. But the phrase itself is generic. It does sound better, I suppose, than saying “This is poetry I get.” However I think that reviews should also be accessible, or what’s the point?
C.
Dinah Dietrich says
I am a poet, and I live for poetry writing, and poetry in general.
Reading poetry is a very important pursuit too.
Still, when I read a poem, or a collection of poems, I find it hard to put into words
why I like it so much.
When my own first book came out, the reviews and reviewers became important.
The reputation of my poems and my self as a poet were at stake, after all!
It can be difficult to say how much you are sorry that you ate the plums in the icebox, according to William Carlos Williams, or why so much depends upon a red wheelbarrow beside the white chickens. (Also poem by WC Williams.)
You cannot paraphrase poetry. Poems speak for themselves.
India says
I’m now going to be on the hunt for those words… Thank you for the smile.
Manpreet says
unless the reviewer was overcome by luminosity to the point of having their breath taken away (literally), and read a poem that restored their breathing to normal. Then it would be okay to use “miraculous.” – WOW!
It was such a fun read. 😛
And it does make a lot of sense. I want to read more blog posts of yours. They’re great.
Aimée says
I don’t tend to read many reviews for poetry (as in the bits from poets that they use to sell the book) — I rather read a few snippets/quotes from it to get an idea if I’ll like it or not/it interests me, perhaps paired with theme. I’m not particularly interested in how ‘miraculous’, ‘profound’ etc someone thinks it is — it doesn’t tell me anything. It’s why people like it that is more helpful than that there exists some people who are willing to say that they do.
I do read the quotes for fiction books more often — especially sci-fi and fantasy ones. Those I find eye-roll worthy. Similar to the poetry reviews, they like the themes of ‘profound’ and ‘legendary’, but often there is at least one review that does so in the form of comparing it to at least one other book/series in the genre that is generally wildly liked/perceived as a ‘go to’ or a ‘classic’ of the genre (‘classic’ is another word they like to use for this sometimes).
If anything, the fact that so many reviews are so non-descriptively glowing makes them unanimously carry less weight, whose ever name is propped next to it.
Oliver D. Grossman says
You forgot the bane of poetry … ‘thing’