As nice as it is to just wander a bookstore in search of something, something that you won't know until you find it, something that you won't find unless you go out wandering in search of it, there are always so many books that I already know about that I want to buy that it's difficult to work in the random finds, too. Still, I managed to sneak this one in.
I remember that it was on a display table at Barnes & Noble, but I don't remember what the display was. Something akin to Staff Recommends, I think (not that, but something like that). I was drawn in by the cover. That cover is absolutely beautiful and absolutely me; I would buy that portrait and hang it on my wall. What else is great is that Lang Leav also did her own illustrations for the book, so you'll find a couple more images on the inside.
Now, a cover is one thing and the inside can be another. This is a book of poetry and with poetry, well, it kind of just has to be your style. Either it is or it isn't. And it's usually easy with poetry to open up a book and read a random bit to get a sense of whether or not it's your style. I was so taken by Lang's style that I had to add this book to the ones already in my arms (the ones I'd planned to buy). Some books you just can't let out of your grasp.
"My Heart" and "Patience" are some of the early poems. When I read them, they hit me like waves. I was stunned. When poetry delivers beauty and personal resonance all in one, it just . . . isn't something you can describe. I felt Lang's words shockingly deeply.
Her style mingles poetry and prose. So every so often you'll come across a page or two of prose. "Patience," in fact, is prose. But it's all poetic prose and framed by verse, so it all combines. She writes in a style that's simple yet not stripped bare (which is a style that I don't tend to favor). Intensely emotional while also not sappy (though, granted, if you prefer not to read about emotions, well, then this won't be for you).
Basically these are love poems, some of the high points and some of the low points. That, honestly, isn't really what I'm used to reading. Maybe because of that I feel like I should mention that these words could potentially open up some heartbreak for anyone who might be missing someone, either someone they've never had or someone they once had. At the same time, though, that's kind of the idea of fiction: fiction opens us up and tears us apart and stuffs us with emotions partly ours or ours not at all. The more emotions it stirs up in us, the better we claim it to be.
Well. I suppose I'd better keep an eye out for more Lang Leav books (she has four more out; Lullabies was her second).