Now let me preface this article with this: I was having a rough week. I’ve been overwhelmed, anxious, and, frankly, depressed. So, when I was tasked to read “The Poet X” by Elizabeth Acevedo for my Women in Literature class, I wasn’t exactly jumping up and down with joy.
I had no motivation to get through my reading and for the first couple of classes, I came to class with only about half the reading done (sorry, Dr. Matz).
But on Tuesday night, it was different. I had procrastinated so long on my phone that I was bored of scrolling. So, for some change of pace, I decided that I might as well do my reading for class.
From the beginning of the book, I thought it was good. I loved the poetic verses and the narrative way the book was structured in poems. I really did enjoy it, even though I didn’t complete it for class on time.
But something clicked into place that quiet Tuesday evening. All of a sudden, I was hunched over my laptop, slurping up line after line. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the tightly packed verses.
Every line punched a deep hole in my chest. As the climax of the novel hit me, tears ran down my face, splashing on my fake wooden desk.
All of a sudden, I was overcome with sobs. I couldn’t keep it together. As I read about Xiomara, the main character, and her relationship with her mother, I was so vividly reminded of the relationship I have with my mother that my heart hurt for both of us.
Now, I know this is going to sound cheesy, but in that moment, all I wanted to do was call my mommy. I wanted to talk about nothing and be reassured that I still had that maternal support that I needed at that moment. But I couldn’t do that and I don’t have that.
In the darkest time of the book, when Xiomara’s relationship with her mother was at its lowest place, they were able to fall into an embrace. They were able to hold each other through the pain they were feeling.
I wanted that. I wanted it so badly that my frustration of not having it had my chest heaving and my face puffy from weeping.
And it felt good. It felt so liberating to have that tension come out in some physical way. The weight was lifted from my chest; not all of it, but I came out the other side feeling lighter.
This book was just that good.
For me, any book that elicits that much emotion, no matter if it is positive or negative, has to be a five-star read.
So, take this article about me falling to pieces as your sign to pick up “The Poet X” by Elizabeth Acevedo.