A supernaturally less than average book.
Dates Read: 27/03/24 to 09/04/24
Star rating: ⭐⭐
Word to describe: Lacklustre
Genre: Poetry
I had bought this collection a few years back when I was going through my poetry phase. I knew the name Misha Collins but at the time couldn't for the life of me figure out why (I never watched Supernatural don't come for me). I had figured if I recognised the author's name then surely this collection must be worthwhile. The name is known enough that even though I can't quite picture in my mind why I know this person it must mean something. Boy, was I wrong.
Misha Collins is talented in many ways but writing compelling poetry is not one of them. The words used and the sentiment behind them was lovely, that I can admit, but for the majority of it it felt like verbal diarrhoea. Giving his readers the most basic of poetry and using his fame and fortune to sell a collection of unimaginative and simply boring musings. I truly don't like to be overly critical of books knowing that the author has put time and energy into them, albeit these poems do not feel although much effort was given. There is no emotion or even a deep sense of any feeling given to this text.
Each poem was bland. There is not much else to say. There was simply, nothing about this collection that made me thrilled to be reading it. I love poetry, and when a poet has a way with words that can not be described I will share those poems everywhere (I had a whole highlight on Instagram dedicated to poems that I had fallen in love with). Misha Collins did not make it anywhere on my must-read poetry list. He isn't even on my okay-ish poetry list.
I feel like there is so much more that could be done with this collection. Some things I can't tell you - please Misha never tell us again.
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