Milk and Honey
by Rupi Kaur
April 4, 2021 [12:47 PM — 1:11 PM]
Los Angeles, CA
I've always been interested in colossal accomplishments by the youth, I wanted to see what the hype was all about considering Rupi Kaur published this book when she was 22 and it sold over 5 million copies and got translated to more than 35 languages, staying in the New York Times bestseller for more than 3 years! When I told my cousin (she’s into poetry, studied & taught English literature) that it was next in my reading queue, she gave a kind of “meh” response regarding its context, labelling it as “instapoetry.” I can understand why that is, despite its sales, it’s extremely short (I read it in almost 20 minutes), speaks to an extremely specific audience (I couldn’t relate to anything in it because I’m a male who hasn't been a victim of an abusive relationship or has abused a significant other (I cut off toxic people and don’t allow them in my life)), and it’s very straight to the point with a few artistic brushes to the words but they can strike you like daggers. Due to the popularity & hype, I was expecting Rupi's work to be on the level of Rumi. This wasn't that at all. There are a few pages I liked, but I didn’t feel like I'd think deeply about it/discuss it later; the most I would do is post one of the nice pages on IG, that feeling represents what it is: instapoetry.
That being said, I congratulate Rupi on her success, the numbers are impressive, and the fact she had to self-publish this initially since she wasn’t able to find a publisher, using her design and editing skills that she learned in college & had a zero-dollar budget is applaudable. The material can get dark & graphic, I see how a young girl might find solace or refuge in her poetry, it made me think of a few of my friends who were abused/ in toxic relationships. It’s just not my cup of tea, it isn’t supposed to be anyways, I’m not her targeted audience. Rather than writing out the few pages that I liked, I’ll just post them. I mean that’s what I’ve always been doing, but this time it’s different, it's what instapoetry is made for, plus the images posted are the only ones I liked. Feeling a diminishing marginal utility from creative fiction.