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Review: Frayed by Natalie Scott

This small collection of poetry was found hidden on the shelves of my local library.

 
The image shows a hand holding up a small book. The front cover has text which reads "Frayed Natalie Scott" and a has an artistic drawing of a rose. The background of the image show oak bookshelves filled with numerous books. The photo was taken inside a library.
@shereadsbooks.sometimes

Dates Read: 18/06/2022 to 18/06/2022

Star rating: ⭐⭐

Word to describe: Confusing

Genre: Poetry


I found this less than 30 pages poetry collection hidden amongst the shelves of my local library. I had arrived early to return several books and was waiting for the book club to start when I spotted it. From the cover alone I was intrigued by what this collection would have in store. I didn't recognise the poet (most likely due to the majority of my poetry being penned by instapoets) and was compelled to test out their writing skills.


Whilst there were few poems that piqued my interest and a handful that I enjoyed I found that the overuse of metaphors meant the meaning behind the poetry got lost in a jumble of confusion. The better part of the writing, including a break-up being expressed through a shopping list on the fridge, were exceptionally written and thought-provoking. The metaphors for these poems served their purpose and added a sense of elevated understanding to the writing.


The former of which, by that I mean the not-so-good poems felt lacking. The meaning behind the poem was shadowed by an overcast fog and the trees rolled in the background setting flightless birds asunder with pain and torment... See what I mean? An overuse of descriptive metaphors meant that the initial point of the poem became lost. Instead, the poetry focused on over-extending these metaphors until they made no sense at all.


This poet clearly loves nature and a lot of her poems are centred on natural imagery. In particular animals and nighttime skies. There were times during my reading of the book where I felt Natalie Scott was reminiscent of a young Edgar Allen Poe breathing out the words to The Raven and then at others, I could only picture a child being asked to describe a pineapple with as many words as possible.


This collection felt mundane. The final few pages were a reader's torture - one where the book felt neverending but you were secretly hoping it would improve so you carried on reading anyways.

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