Citizen: An American Lyric

Lyric, poignant, biting. Ms Rankine recounts moments of racial violence committed during the acts of daily living in America. For readers seeking to understand the impact of racist micro-aggression on a visceral level, these prose poems are a must read.

This was a reader/book mismatch, and I try to avoid criticizing books simply for not being my thing. But I do want to provide the information that would have been helpful to me in deciding whether to read it.

So, I'd heard that this is a brilliant new book about race in America, and only afterwards that it is poetry, which is most definitely not my thing (that whooshing sound you hear, that is the sound of a poem going right over my head. I love words, but I am literal-minded). But then I read a sample, and it is nothing like your typical poetry. These short pieces that you will find in the excerpts on the store and at the Poetry Foundation have been called "prose poems," and while I suspect "prose poem" is simply a fancy way of referring to regular old good writing in small fragments, the fact remains that these brief, self-contained pieces are excellently-written, hard-hitting, and easily understood.

And having read Rankine's work, I think "prose poems" are probably the ideal format for writing about microaggressions. ("Microaggressions" are small, often thoughtless actions that are offensive or hurtful because of their cultural context. Examples: a salesperson suspiciously following black shoppers around a store; a white college student telling a black one that she was probably admitted because of affirmative action.) By their nature, these small and unconnected events would be very difficult to write an interesting and cohesive novel about. As distinct fragments that don't have to connect to one another through some larger narrative structure, though, it works, and the reader gets a sense of the psychological effects of dealing with such disheartening situations on a regular basis.

What I didn't know before reading this book was that fewer than 50 pages are comprised of these pieces. For the rest, there's some rather more traditional poetry; some photography and images, whose meanings were often obscure to me; some essays, which seem to omit crucial background information on the assumption that readers are already familiar with the situations discussed (for instance, the long essay on bad calls made against Serena Williams); and some experimental pieces, identified as "scripts for situation videos," which are perhaps best described as stream-of-consciousness pieces from the point of view of characters inspired by recent events. The best word for this whole collection is "experimental," and if you are into experimental writing you should absolutely give it a try. I, unfortunately, am not, and so most often this book simply left me baffled.

OMG, imagine if you found yourself queer, or, OMGOMG, Inuit, or, OMGOMGOMG, black.

You should read this book, as should every white (black), straight (queer) (all kind) person in this country & the world.

But most people won't read it because Rankine is an artist, she writes poetry & poetic prose, she is intelligent & associatively articulate, aka not as straightforward & graspable as a peanut butter & jelly sandwich.

Rankine feels deeply AND can put those feelings in words that burn me as if they were my own feelings, as if I had suffered what she has suffered & continues to suffer her life long by/for being a black person in our 21st century still-extremely-prejudiced US.

Recounting her own experiences, Rankine pays homage to all who are similarly slighted, she respects rage & despair, she honors deaths at the hands of self-righteous louts, she stands up for what she has not been always able to say aloud in real time but has taken home to sift & spell.

I've only just received this book, only read it once, these are freshest, rawest responses. More reads ahead.

"At the end of a brief phone conversation, you tell the manager you are speaking with that you will come by his office to sign the form. When you arrive and announce yourself, he blurts out, I didn't know you were black!

I didn't mean to say that, he then says.

Aloud, you say.

What? he asks.

You didn't mean to say that aloud.

Your transaction goes swiftly after that."

******

"I knew what ever was in front of me was happening and then the police vehicle came to a screeching halt in front of me like they were setting up a blockade. Everywhere were flashes, a siren sounding and a stretched-out roar. Get on the ground. Get on the ground now. Then I just knew.

And you are not the guy and still you fit the description because there is only one guy who is always fitting the description."

******

"because white men can't
police their imagination
black men are dying"

******

"Your friend is speaking to your neighbor when you arrive home. The four police cars are gone. Your neighbor has apologized to your friend and now is apologizing to you. Feeling somewhat responsible for the actions of your neighbor, you clumsily tell your friend that the next time he wants to talk on the phone he should just go in the backyard. He looks at you a long minute before saying he can speak on the phone wherever he wants. Yes, of course, you say. Yes, of course."

Being black in America. Claudia Rankine brings that home in a way I haven't experienced before, in Citizen: An American Lyric. It's an amazing, heartbreaking book.

In September 2016 I read that Rankin used the MacArthur Genius grant funds she was awarded for Citizen to study Whiteness and I felt compelled to read Citizen. Three months later I live in a dystopian reality and Citizen, in hindsight, is downright prophetic. The micro-aggressions of Rankin’s poetry, that were so easily dismissed as “playing the race card” or “being too sensitive,” were the harbinger of the macro-aggression now taking place all around us.

I am strongly reminded of Elie Wiesel’s recounting of Moshe the Beadle in the beginning of Night who escapes the first round of Jewish pogroms and comes back to warn the village. Moshe is written off as insane because no one believes it could really ever be that bad. Later the whole village is imprisoned or liquidated.

When I began Citizen I felt that, as a white woman, I could put the book down and be completely isolated and insulated to the horrors my fellow citizens of color encounter as their daily reality. I could see the horror if it, acknowledge the need for change, and even support change – but I still felt that at any time, I could close the book. Now, three months later I am waking up to the fact that the horrors inflicted on one citizen will, eventually, be shared by all. No one is isolated in a community. Citizen is exemplary witness poetry. Rankin’s speakers don’t prod or beg the reader to intervene – only to hear out her witnesses and acknowledge that our responses, as citizens, creates the community we all share.

Claudia Rankine's Citizen intimidated me because it is a book of poetry and essays, often with references to modern art, video collaborations she's worked on, and past events. I do not read a lot of poetry, and I worried that I wouldn't get as much out of this book as Rankine put into it. That I wouldn't really "get" a lot of what she referenced if I didn't know how to approach and analyze art.

But once I started reading Citizen, it felt much more approachable. It is, first of all, a beautifully published work. The cover, with its strikingly poignant image of the hoodie so often associated with black males. The spacing of the words in the essays and poems. The full-color reproductions of art pieces, video screen shots, photographs. The shading of letters on one page that just has line after line starting with "In memory of..." and then lists black victims of police violence. The haunting poem across from that list:

Because white men can't
police their imagination
black men are dying

But Rankine spends the bulk of Citizen discussing microaggressions, those small, subconscious acts we do that speak volumes about our beliefs and can lead to so many misunderstandings. She talks about a friend who, for some inexplicable reason, referred to her as a "nappy-headed ho." Cashiers who ask only black customers if cards will swipe without issue. People never taking the available seat next to a black man on the subway. Colleagues assuming that Rankine only got her job because of her race.

(Even in my book club, some members speculated that this book only won so many awards because of Rankine's race and the current political environment.)

One of the situations that stood out most to me was when Rankine had her (black male) friend babysit her children. People thought her friend, taking a phone call outside the house, looked suspicious and called the cops on him. After the incident, even Rankine mentioned to her friend that perhaps in future, he should take his calls in the backyard, not the front yard. Her friend looked at her for a long, hard moment, and then told her he could take phone calls wherever he wanted.

Rankine spends quite a bit of time at the start of the book discussing Serena Williams. I found this entire section absolutely fascinating and eye-opening. As I am writing this on Super Bowl Sunday, I would say this section made me think of the way people complain about Cam Newton being too celebratory when things go his way. People think this is unprofessional. They generally don't mind when white football players celebrate, though. Serena Williams' displays of emotion on the tennis court has rubbed many people the wrong way. Rankine digs deeply into this, into the way the Williams sisters respond to criticism, into the number of times they have felt rage but had to shake it off. Because calling people out on things like that is unsportsmanlike behavior. You can't bring up subconscious racism in professional sports; people think that's unsportsmanlike behavior. You're just being a sore loser.

There are so many moments like that in this book, and I am so glad that Rankine wrote about them because they make racism more personal, more approachable. I became more reflective. How many times have I perhaps stood by and watched someone be stereotyped against? Why didn't I speak up, show my support for the victim? What can I do to make my world a more welcoming and kinder place for people who do not feel safe or valued?

There is a poignant free verse essay/poem in which Rankine describes how she got on a train and saw that everyone avoided sitting next to a black man. She went and sat next to him, did not make eye contact or interact with him in any way. She just wanted to show solidarity. She wanted him to know that she saw him. It was very moving to read.

Usually, I stand on public transportation. Mostly because I think the seats are probably pretty disgusting. But the last time I got on a train, I too noticed that many of the seats next to black men were empty; people chose to stand instead of sit. So I went and sat down. And, surprisingly, the man turned and smiled at me, welcoming me to the train or to the city or just greeting me, acknowledging my presence and our shared space. I smiled back. I like to think that Rankine inspired a moment of connection in a situation that most often is one of silent anonymity. Hopefully, the book will inspire many such connections.

The prose in this work gives voice to all those who have experienced everyday indignities suffered by a person of color in America from cradle to grave. It reads like a diary, tallying slights, rude comments, unwarranted crude behavior endured for no other reason other than the color of one's skin. Imagining living and going about your everyday business in a country where the worst is automatically assumed of you all day, everyday, one can understand why people collectively boil over in rage upon seeing yet another person of color being fatally manhandled by authority figures, leading to yet another injustice as a result of institutionalized apathy.when death at the hands of authority figures continues to go unpunished -- it becomes the last straw -- again, and again, and again.....and....

This book provides answers to every white person who asks why a person of color is "defensive", "sensitive", "suspicious of authority figures", etc.

Be a better human being -- read this book.

Claudia Rankine has an indescribable gift, and I am so very grateful she shared that gift with us in Citizen. Everything about this piece amazed me: the structure, style, rhythm, elegance, eloquence, rage, insight, historical analysis, and so much more. The inclusion of visual images alongside written text provides an additional layer of depth to what is already an immensely nuanced piece. Rankine lays bare the thoughtless and malicious prejudice hidden (or on flagrant display) in everyday interactions as well as the Black pain (both emotional and physical) that accumulates in response. This is definitely a must read.

This is an incredibly important book when you consider what's happening in the United States right now. The writing is powerful and forces you to take a long, hard look at what our country has become (or more accurately, what it's always been). That being said, some of the writing ventures a little too far down the road of obscurely metaphorical poetry, making it drag a little more than it flows. But overall, I highly recommend this book to everyone.

This book was picked for a book club this month. It is a book of poetry unlike poetry I've ever read and yet it was so powerful I found myself walking away from it from time to time, rereading sections, and even reading them aloud to really understand them. And that's what they presented to me, moments, painful, confusing and infuriating moments that are the crux of microaggressions. I am not black or African American and yet I was put in a place of anguish reading about this compounding existence of slights and insults she experienced or saw others experience across the country. A discussion about race, racism, and racial microaggressions has to start with recognizing the validity of individual experience (yes, that really did just happen to you) and not lean on the tendency to dismiss as aberration or coincidence (I dont think they meant it like that or Maybe you heard him wrong). By the end of the book, I felt exhausted. I can't even begin to try to understand the exhaustion, the fatigue, she must feel experiencing it herself.

This epic poem often had me leaning forward to find out what would happen next, even when — especially when — Rankine is narrating a tennis match she’s watching on TV. The general “poetic” parts about feelings/sensings were not particularly compelling but they acted as a respite from the racial parts, which fill you with rage. “because white men can’t/ police their imagination/ black men are dying.” And “Hold up, did you just hear, did you just say, did you just see, did you just do that? Then the voice in your head silently tells you to take your foot off your throat because just getting along shouldn’t be an ambition.” Grade: A

Claudia Rankine’s blend of lyricism, analysis of current events and artwork is the perfect blend that makes “Citizen” a fantastic read. She begins with a compilation of micro-aggressions which (alone) do not appear to be harmful to the mind. Piled up, one after another, they leave a lasting and impactful message, emulating the way in which thoughts can live in a person’s mind for long periods of time. Rankine’s use of the second person invites the readers in and allows them to feel more connected to the author. It makes the implications about race even more real because the reader feels as if he/she is experiencing each story.

The placement of each piece of art is haunting and allows the readers to draw their own conclusions about their implications. As an avid sports fan, I appreciated the instances in which Rankine comments on racial tensions, as well as gender issues, in the worlds of tennis and soccer. This gives her the ability to reach such a broad audience and share her ideas on racial issues.

As an African American woman, experiencing “Citizen” was rather refreshing. Reading her stories, which are so similar to my own, I felt myself nodding in agreement with each turn of the page. I think this lyric essay has the potential to give white America the opportunity to understand the life of a black woman who is just trying to survive as a citizen in this country.

By far, this is the most potent thing I've read this year.

Like a scalpel, Rankine's poetry and essays cut right through our cultural myopia; surgically exposing the deep and dangerous subtleties of racial prejudice.

Breathtaking. Powerful. Electrically prophetic.

--Tristan Sherwin, author of *Love: Expressed*

Claudia Rankine’s Citizen: An American Lyric is an exceptionally important work of contemporary African American Literature. Throughout her extended prose poem, Rankine explores the persistent presence of racism against African American, as manifested in modern American society, in a manner that is both deeply disconcerting and aesthetically challenging. Indeed, the greatest virtue of Rankine’s work may be its artistic experimentation in approaching this subject; however, the author’s formal choices are not merely arbitrary, but reinforce the pertinent thematic concerns of her work. Perhaps the most notable aesthetic element of Citizen is the author’s incorporation of the rarely utilized second-person point-of-view throughout the work. The impact of this aesthetic choice is the creation of a “forced empathy” of sorts, wherein the reader is not able to remain passive, but must assume the role of the author, being in this case, an African American woman. In doing so, Rankine expresses the dehumanizing effects of racism, often implicit in quotidian life, in a way that is not abstract but deeply personal for the reader. As a white male, I must say that this formal choice is exceptionally effective; indeed, my conception of the nuances of racism in the United States has been greatly enhanced after reading Rankine’s work.

Alongside her experimentation with literary form, Rankine’s work is very impressive in its physical presentation. The book is printed on heavy, glossy paper and incorporates a number of relevant photographs and works of art as a means of reinforcing the dominant themes of each of the work’s seven sections. Perhaps the most notable feature of the work’s presentation is the striking amount of white space that takes up each of the works pages, set starkly against the black text. Again, it is a great virtue of Rankine’s work that this formal choice serves a fundamental artistic purpose; here, this organization of the text serves as an aesthetic reflection of the quote from Zora Neale Hurston which Rankine appropriates as an exemplification of the work’s overarching theme, namely: “I feel most colored when I am thrown against a sharp white background.” (25)

The aesthetic strength of Citizen may, undoubtedly, be attributed to Rankine’s own background as a professor of creative writing at Pomona College as well as her position as a chancellor of the Academy of American Poets. Citizen, in many ways, may be seen as a companion piece to Rankine’s earlier work Don’t Let Me Be Lonely (2004), a collection of essays and television images which also bears the subtitle An American Lyric. With Citizen, however, we see Rankine adopt a more broadly social perspective, perhaps reflective of the increasing social turbulence concerning race relations in the United States. That Citizen has been critically acclaimed as one of the preeminent works of African American Literature published within the past few years reflects the emergence of what the editors of the Norton Anthology of African American Literature cite as “the community of black women writing,” (918) as a dominant force in contemporary African American Literature.

Beautifully written and powerful. Timely poetry in a non-traditional format, it presumes the reader -"you" -are her, a black American woman, cleverly and clearly putting you there, sometimes unevenly, for the duration of the book. This is not the type of book I normally read but I loved it-I felt like I learned something and saw the world a little differently. She has a strong voice that should be heard. I didn't agree with everything and I didn't even understand everything but I came away with some new perspective and having really thought about the book after I finished and that's more than a reason to recommend it!

Great book. Gives you many difference scenarios to understand and empathise with the struggle people of color go through, especially women. It's a call for change on opression and racism - and a voice for black people.

I understand it IS required reading for freshmen at some universities. I think it should be for freshmen in high schools as well. It is sweepingly modern with roots in very old prejudices, illuminating how far we still have yet to evolve. The mixed media turns adverse experience into art, breaking what might turn into a cycle of adversity, and that's such an important message. Highly recommended to any American, and any citizen of the world.

It’s certainly an attention getting book, if not at times confusing and frustrating. However, for a young adult who has lives somewhere we don’t have the division of society that is prevalent in the south and even the Midwest, it’s almost impossible for me to understand because I don’t see this happening in my society. Found it not to my liking and style, though I most definitely would not designate it as poetry.

Poignant and painful at times as I recognize the slights, the micro aggressions I've experienced being black in the US. Some parts, such as the words used to explore the story of the white kids using a truck to drag a black man on the ground, were too painful to absorb and grasp the style of narrative.

A powerful collection of prose poetry that confronts the problem of race in America in the era of Trayvon Martin. This is not an easy book, heartbreaking, poignant, thoughtful. The images used add to the book's elements of desperation and pain. Powerful and important; highly recommended.

A woman I was falling in love with mailed me her copy of Citizen and I read it what felt like three long breaths. It is eye opening. It is beautiful. It's hard to read at times because of the way it punches you in your guts and pries your sleeping eyes open. Highly recommend this book.

Calling out, naming, discussing, uncovering racism is an honorable task. Racism is repulsive. But, writing about racism doesn't make the writing aesthetically pleasing, doesn't make the effort an achievement. There are not many insights in this book. Perhaps if one is not widely read, one will judge the book as thought-provoking and revelatory--it isn't. It's bad poetry, at that, and mostly prose, moreover. All bad poetry is sincere--Oscar Wilde. The noble emotions that go into the making of a painting or a poem or a novel do not make the finished product an aesthetic achievement: they only make it sincere, and well-intention'd, but an artistic failure for all its warmth and goodness. I can suggest a thousand books to read before this one (I read it at my job as a librarian for a program a patron started), and the book is only more of the same one encounters over and over in today's cultural climate. Good intentions, weak results.

I can't say that I really liked this book, but it is thought provoking. It makes you look t yourself and your own actions and reactions towards race. This is especially important right now, during the current racial issues that have appeared in America.

I had to read this book for a class, but intend to give it a more deep and engaged reading at several points in my life. The style is very refreshing. Pure poetry and unbelievably relatable. Wonderful!

Excellent book - beautiful/insightful thoughts and words on a difficult and timely subject. If you have an once of empathy and a bit of patience for introspection, read this. If you don't, get some and then read this book.

Writing is sometimes quite confusing - although it is a book, it is neither a collection of poetry or just prose. Rankine's message can get lost in this confusion. Although she seems to have some important points she wants to make, they never bloom or fully develop; and it can be a bummer if the writer struggles with the simplest things and cannot communicate to the readers effectively. Not a bad book - it has some references to some fascinating artwork, but Rankine's writing is never realized as interesting or important as the artwork she cites.

I read this book and it is stunning. I recommend letting the words and the reality they portray wash over you. Let them seep into your consciousness. Then be a part of the solution instead of adding to the problem.

Beautiful and harrowing. An inside look at the mind, life and loss of seeing the world through a shaded lense. The view from the court, when the ball is played in all fairness and then put out of play by irrational and unjust bias. This is a learning curve mixed with a touch of just and lack of justice. Poetry as it needs to be - dark, smooth, terrifying and enlightening. My eyes are open and I'm thankful for this window. I'm thankful for its opening and for its closure.

“Citizen: An American Lyric” might be one of the most important books published this year – about American race relations, about human interaction, about art. The book is a crochet of vignettes – emotionally stinging poetics that sit alongside relevant contemporary artworks. Part poet, part social commentator, part art curator, Claudia Rankine has accomplished what so many artists and thinkers try to, reminding us of the severity of racial transgressions and the potential of written and visual expression. Get this book, read it, and keep reading it, even when its intensity makes you want to put it down.

I was taken into Rankine's grasp after reading the first sentence of this passionate and heartfelt narrative lyric about what is like to be Black in contemporary America. It is a world in which words are said to you person to person and in public that you overhear that are laden with stereotyping and many times unintended hurt spoken by people who are oblivious to the damaging messages that their words contain. This is a powerful book and I can see why it is getting all the acclaim that it is. This is an eyeopening commentary on race.

I was about to purchase this book, but first I checked with my local library and there it was, so I grabbed it. It was a good decision, not enough here for me to have bought it. This form of prose poetry didn't really work for me. Although clearly she has some poignant pieces in this collection, and I understood what she was was conveying and where she was going, the way there sometimes left me thinking, this must be deep.

At the risk of dating myself, I was reminded of the words of Gil Scott-Heron, the great poet/artist who spoke of poetry as a vehicle for communication. He said poets often tried hard to be poetic, and so sometimes he would get handed poetry, and the author would want to know what he thought, and his response would be, "this must be deep", because there was a failure to plainly connect. Gil would ask the question "Why would you need a poet to make things more complex?"

There is a powerful short piece in memory of men recently killed by the hands of police:

because white men can’t

police their imagination

black men are dying

Doesn't get any better than that.

This book is beautiful and moving. The storytelling within the poetry captures feelings and thoughts that can be so difficult to articulate and does so in such a seamless and accessible way. It's a short and meaningful read.

I've never written a book review before now. I enjoy reading, but never considered myself as a literary type, if that makes any sense. I can't comment on things like prose or writing style. I will only say that this book provides insight as to why we sometimes find it hard to breath.

As a white male reading a book written by a black woman I have to open myself up to experiences well outside my somewhat small realm of existence. I have found that this book along with others such as Toni Morrison and Frederick Douglass fits into a category you could call, "race theory" and in reading this book I realize that as much as I can do as an individual white person in a much larger system, there is little I can do to affect great change. Rankine is buffeted by almost 45 different entries on micro agressions, they take many different forms, some last only a paragraph, others take a page or two, then there are much longer entries detailing some instances in popular culture where Rankine perceives a misconception. In thirteen pages we hear a story of Serena William's interaction with a line judge during a televised match. She also creates several "scripts" detailing notable events in American history such as Hurricane Katrina, Trayvon Martin, and the Jena Six all of which are centered around an African-American perspective. Some of the stories are written in a more prose-heavy style while there are other entries that are much more poetic. Rankine really gets across to all readers the stacking process of microaggressions and the sense of how repeated offenses can really add up to something unpleasant. Again as a white person I can only read this book sort of as an onlooker, so beyond any personal connection I have to find positives in the book based on her writing style and on this front she does stupendously. This book is a ride, the pages fly by but the information lingers. It's wonderful to read and really fun.

I purchased this book a few weeks ago, but just read it today. This is the same day as the Charlottesville riot. I only finished it a few moments ago. This book is stuck in my throat, and it should be. The importance of this book, especially in this moment, can not be overstated.

Every word of this tight, powerful volume is essential. Rankine has identified and illuminated the central race issues of our time and brought them alive with poignant, painful stories. Everyone in America needs to read this book.

Citizen is a profound reflection on race in America, especially necessary now, as we have all been caught up in the murders of Treyvan Martin and Michael Power. This is an extraordinary, surprising book in which Rankine examines the variations of discrimination that remain and proliferate in America. There is a unifying consciousness that shapes the private and public encounters with racism Rankine deals with. It's a frightening story she tells, which should cause the reader to examine the ways in which racism is present in her own life.

I especially loved Rankine's detailed narrative of Serena Williams' experience of racism on the court. This amazing woman, strong and talented, lives with and ultimately surmounts the racism which pokes its nasty head up both on the court and in the media, i.e., the "Crips Walk."

I strongly recommend this book to anyone who is trying to make sense of race in America.

An absolutely vital book for this time, and all times. Beautifully written, haunting; a formally innovative treatment of the lyric. A masterpiece of 21st century American poetry and letters. Certain moments will be permanently seared into your own consciousness, your own "cupboard" of memory, as Rankine writes.

Lyrical, poignant, ceaselessly hopeful of human connection and understanding. This is a book to read again and again, to ponder, to see ones self in the light and shadows it casts, and to ask "How can I be more aware, more human?"

This author was all about pulling the victimization card over the survivor. She was wanting a high about of pity from the readers. Many of the situations were blown way out of proportion and there were numerous cases that the average person goes through. The pictures that were within the novel were supposed to have a significant meaning when in truth they degraded the short stories even more.

Citizen is a powerful narrative poetry collection that rehashes the shock and clamor of abutting oppressive systems. Citizen is sometimes contextualized in terms of major (i.e. nationally known) catastrophes, but is much more often the idiosyncratic and daily battles. Rankine wrestles in ink and her struggle and openness and vulnerability are beautiful.

The ultimate opportunist; Claudia Rankine made a shocking discovery: that racism exists in America!
The revelation of that discovery takes place in a pedestrian, bland prose that bears little resemblance to
interesting poetry. The acclaim of the entire world does not alter the middle-brow, mediocre quality of this
inconsistent work. Rankine has made an "art" out of political correctness and the announcement
of truths that are so well known as to be copywrited forty years ago. The realities she speaks of are,
of course, real and tragic, and deeply important. Rankine is a mediocre articulator of them, however.

A book full of complaining. The book attempts to put you as the reader into the authors perspective. It Doesn't really work and it reads as a list of complaining. The author seems over sensitive and writes about such subtle things that hurt her feelings. I can honestly say this is one of the most boring, non thought provoking books I've read.

Claudia Rankine's poetry has not been subjected to critical scrutiny, so we do not know how it will fare over the long term. It is unlikely that Helen Vendler, for example, will study Rankine's poetry, much less write an essay about it. My point is that, while Rankine is wildly popular as a public intellectual, we do not yet know whether she will be taken seriously as a poet over the long term. It would be, particularly, interesting for Rankine's poetry to be evaluated by a Post-structuralist theorist since Citizen promotes binary thinking [White : Black]. Apparently, Rankine views Race as a stable rather than an unstable property of an individual or a group. Although, Citizen references Judith Butler, Rankine apparently does not understand that Race is "performed" and that Race, therefore, is literally as well as figuratively "constructed". As Butler might say: "I Race; and, I am being Raced." Consistent with Post-structuralist thinking, particularly, that of Julia Kristeva, Race should be viewed through the lens[es] of Psychology, Behavior, Sexuality, and Language, not, only, History & Politics. Kristeva would, also, point out that Collective Identity is subordinate to Individual Identity. Helen Vendler says something similar when she states that Race and Gender are secondary to "Temperament". Post-modern & Post-structuralist theorists will, at some point, "weigh in", also, about whether, with Citizen, Rankine has created yet another Race Meta-narrative and/or Allegory. We will have to wait until the music quiets down as well as figure out why the noise was so loud to begin with.

This is not poetry. It's also not a novel or a collection of short stories. It's a rambling, indifferently written collection of petty racial grievances, filled out with photographs of no particular relevance or aesthetic merit. See? It's not so hard to get great reviews and win awards. You just have to know your audience, that's all.

I've long held that poetry is for people who aren't capable of writing prose; this book did nothing to change that opinion. This book was disorganized and chaotic and basically unreadable.

Some people will argue that that's the point and that we're supposed to feel uneasy. That's why there is an inexplicable photo of a calf with a doll's face on page 19. That's really stupid.

This is not good poetry, good prose poetry, or good prose. It is politically-minded angst determined to call "foul!" (or "fault!" as per Rankine's discussion of Serena Williams.) It prefers magnifying a few failures over celebrating countless examples of progress. It resembles news media, distorting "reality" by focusing on ugly flaws in the current racial landscape while ignoring its beauties. It reads much like the gush of an angry undergraduate in her Creative Writing 101 journal: second person p.o.v, present tense, loosey-goosey abstractions, emotionally one-sided, with very little attention to craft. It spins complex human conflicts into racially motivated cruelty, and it exploits recent events in troubling ways. I'm not sure why it was chosen as a finalist for the National Book Award. Maybe because it fabricates a context in which saying, "I don't like this book" is like saying, "I'm racist." Well, I'm not afraid to say it: this is poor poetry in a sexy, political package. If you want to read an interesting contemporary poet who touches on similar themes, try Thomas Sayers Ellis.

I understand the bitterness but was still somewhat bored by the writing. For me it was too narrow for all readers and not exactly poetic. The writer is clearly talented, but this work's high points cannot recover the loss caused by its broad strokes. It is best to quote the writer Janet Evanovich; "...The thing about books is, there is a book for everyone, sort of like the "There's a lid for every pot" adage. My "just not good" is probably someone else's "all-time favorite," and that's the great thing about books..."

No depth, only shallow hate that doesn't look beneath the surface to investigate the truth. Anger and sadness is fine, emotion is great, but this is utter ignorance and hate, pure and simple. If you are looking for a political manifesto, this book is for you. If you are looking for skilled poetry, look elsewhere.