Hello, beautiful readers. I don’t normally offer book reviews, but I could not stop myself from reviewing this book in particular. I have never read any of Atticus’s work until tonight, and honestly I was quite disappointed.

My brother bought me The Truth About Magic by Atticus for my birthday. He had it sent to me attached with a sweet note. I loved opening the box and finding a poem book. I LOVE poetry. I am in the works of writing my own poem book, and love being inspired by other authors. I was told good things about this author and the pictures added a beautiful aesthetic to the whole work. However, I finished the whole book within maybe two hours, and a few things went through my mind. Before I get into that, I want to mention that I don’t claim to believe that my opinion is 100% correct. The beautiful thing about opinions is that everyone can have their own. I also don’t claim that there is only one right way to writing poetry. There is not. But one important thing to consider while writing any piece of work is, “how do you want to make the reader feel”. And this book made me feel somewhere in between fury and pity. Here are some specific thoughts I had on the book:

1.) you can 100% tell that this book was written by a man for women. He spent a large part of the book explaining when a girl looked beautiful, and most times it was when she was drunk or asleep in his bed. He literally wrote for a girl to not move otherwise it would mess up how beautiful his perspective of her is. I don’t know about you, but that sounds to me like beauty for women is as fleeting as changing an angle. This perspective is so toxic and keeps feeding the idea that women need to be the perfect idea to get a man. Read that again, that women need to be the perfect IDEA. Not only that, but it places him as the ultimate judge of this woman’s worthiness. That’s not how that works, my guy.

2.) It was forgettable poetry. Nothing stuck. Nothing left me with a lasting impression other than the fact that it was written by a man trying to tell women how to be in love. There was no thought-provoking material at all. It almost seemed like he had put no heart into his words. For someone who kept referencing how poets write and live, I feel like my life is more interesting and I’ve never been to Europe. For someone who kept talking about stories, the audience doesn’t ever hear a story. We only get someone talking about having a story as if it would manifest if enough people read it. There was nothing real about his poems. They were all idealizations. There was nothing moving about his words. They kind of tasted like cardboard just reading them out loud. There was no creative writing styles. They were just empty statements.

3.) I really want to know what he truly thinks about women. I want to see if his perspectives actually match his work. If so, then that would mean that he believes women are only concerned with beauty and being in love. He also appears to be writing a woman that doesn’t exist into existence. He sounds lonely, often drunk, and lacking of deep and meaningful relationships. Any person who has been lucky enough to clearly define the difference between infatuation from love would understand that the depth of these pages are nonexistent. my boyfriend said that it’s Nicholas Sparks stories in poetry form. But I disagree. Nicholas Sparks still had a story to tell. Atticus had wine and beaches but no content.

4.) There was a poem that mentioned someone else making you feel beautiful. This part really bothered me because I am just now coming out of the ideology that my beauty is dependent upon someone else’s perspective. As if my beauty can only be judged by others. This is toxic thinking especially for young women who are heavily pressured by societal expectations. This teaches girls that if others don’t find them pretty they will never be pretty. Women have been beautiful the moment they have been born into existence. Beauty is not something that can be fulfilled by others. Beauty comes from self-validation. Women are not walking around with holes in their chest to be filled by a man’s perspective of how hot they are. They are whole beings walking around thinking they aren’t and continuously looking for something to make them “better”. Baby girl, you are a whole Queen. Royalty. You are dripping in worth and you don’t even know it yet. Beauty does not come from someone else’s idea of you. It comes from you.

I know I’m coming down pretty hard on this author and this book. But, as someone who thrives off of authenticity, self-reflection, growth, intelligent conversations, and creativity and who happens to be a self-respecting woman, this book was not for me. I need to be challenged in the way the author writes their stanzas and drawn into the author’s life through every page. Superficiality does not inspire nor impress me. It does not make it to my Instagram captions. It doesn’t make me yearn for a life that’s not mine. It does not make me think I should change my perspective about life to equate that of a Hallmark movie. This book did not touch my soul the way that Maya Angelou or Rupi Kaur have and continue to. It does not make me appreciate creative works like Robert Browning or Lord Byron. It did not reach me at all.

Although this read was very disappointing, it was also a good experience. It was good to understand that every author is not for you and that’s okay. I sincerely appreciate raw authentic stories. If you have any to share, I would love to read them.

Thank you for reading!

Till next time.