Sneha Jaiswal (Twitter | Instagram)
‘Soon It Will Be Sunday’ by Lang Leav is supposed to be a poetry collection about home, heartbreak and other things. Or at least that’s what I thought at first. However, lots of it felt like scribbled notes an author would jot down on sticky notes or on their phone to maybe add it as a little descriptive line in a novel or short story later. Something they might think will read as a nice quote for readers to highlight or splash on a poster or mood-board or whatever.
Like this one fills an entire page:
“Creativity compels you. Passion Drives you. The combination of these two will make you unstoppable.”
I’d call it a quote, a pretty good one really. It’s neither a poem, nor a ‘micro essay’.
Then there were other ‘poems’ in ‘Soon It Will Be Sunday’ which read like a short daily post in a journal, because your therapist said it’s a good night-time activity. And look, I’d love to read a book that’s filled with someone journal notes, as long as it’s what I’ve signed up for. But on the other hand, I often argue with a particular friend that poetry doesn’t need to have a strict form, it can be just free verses, it certainly needn’t rhyme, but a certain rhythm is appreciated.
I’ve actually never read any of Lang Leav’s poetry before, but the cover for ‘Soon It Will Be Sunday’ had such a pleasant summer look about it and it was also free to read on my online library subscription (Kindle Unlimited). The stark blue cover with a woman might just be the most memorable part about it.
What does home feel like? What are you left with after someone you love walks away? Lang Leave sure explores a lot of things in the book, but I guess my expectations were far too different from what was served here.
The following ‘poem’ is a good example of what might as well be a random blog post.
You watch me upload a video on Instagram, then delete it within the first few minutes. You tell me I have nothing to prove but I am already wracked with anxiety. I pore through my email, unsubscribe from mailing lists, check my spam folder in case there is something crucial I’ve missed. I add soap powder and toothpaste to my online shopping list. Do you want anything? I ask. You smile, Only you. I scrutinize my shopping cart, agonizing over what to remove, what to keep, adding and subtracting from my self-worth. And that night, as I lay awake, my brain chewing itself raw, full of worry, I woke you up and you, without a word, sat up and turned on the light, let me talk for as long as I had to. – Lang Leav, Soon It Will Be Sunday
Only a few pages actually felt like poems in the book. The first page that I really enjoyed reading from ‘Soon It Will Be Sunday’ was titled ‘The Ocean Never Stops Asking’. For the first time, it felt like one was reading a poem and to my amusement, a note after the poem added that it was published in the Guardian Australia.
Honestly, I didn’t enjoy this book much, the poetry or micro-essays get tedious in the second half, some of them are repetitive. I don’t even know how to rate this book and would rather not get into it. But would I personally recommend ‘Soon It Will Be Sunday’ to a friend (and most of them read)? No.
The last poetry book which charmed me was a collection of poems by John Betjeman, even though admittedly, a lot of that old British stuff flew over my head.
If unlike me, you enjoy modern insta-style poetry, maybe check ‘Soon It Will Be Sunday’ out.
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