One of the most surprising books I reviewed in last month's column was the poetry collection Vs by Kerry Ryan (from Anvil Press). It was a surprise because as much as I can appreciate poetry I rarely review it. I just feel miles out of my depth when it comes to poetry; mostly all I feel like saying is that I like it but I don't know what - technically - makes a poem excellent.

For me it's all a visceral reaction of "wow that's powerful" or "god, that's gorgeous" and that's all I've got. For a long time I was intimidated by poetry. I think this goes back to school when I was all too often mystified in the class as poems were taken apart, analyzed and dissected. I felt frustrated in those assignments because, really, none of us knew what those poets meant by their words (most of them were centuries-long dead). We gave our answers based on what we thought we wanted our instructors wanted to hear which was mostly what everyone had been saying about the poems and the poets forever.

This always made me wonder just what the point was.

So, I generally avoid poetry in my reviews and leave it to folks who get it way better than I do. But when Anvil Press sent me their catalog and I got a look at Ryan's collection, which is based entirely on her experiences fighting in an amateur boxing match, I couldn't say no. I wanted to see why she decided to fight and what it was like to train and how it all felt. I was curious about this woman and what she accomplished. From my review you can see how much I loved the book. Here's a bit:

I could quote from dozes of poems in this collection (the ones about how her husband is so casually strong while she must struggle to put on muscle are deeply affecting), but mostly what I want to say is that it is honest and real and celebrates taking on a tough commitment in a way that should speak to anyone who ever hesitated on the edge of the room and dreamed of taking center stage. Ryan is saying "If I can do this, then you can do this," and she makes a believer out of her readers -- she makes us all feel a little better about taking our own chances at being strong. Ryan's poetry makes us want to be like her, and feel the experience of her brave moment in the ring. How could anyone resist such powerful words, or the positive message they contain?

And because I really loved this one in particular, here's a short poem that every woman should embrace:

"Weight Class"

From across the gym
coach asks my weight
like it's a shoe size or address,
the kind of question
a woman could answer
in a crowded room

But I'm used to
the indignities of the ring,
flaws in my body,
its operation

I've learned not to flinch
even as I say one-forty
out loud

[Vs. was sent my way by the publisher.]