Unraveling the Mystery of Poetry: A Review of Matthew Zapruder's "Why Poetry?”
“Poems are imaginative structures built out of words, ones that any reader can enter. They are places of freedom, enlivenment, true communion”
Poetry often feels like a contradiction to me. On one hand, it’s tedious and complex, like a puzzle with too many pieces. On the other hand, that very complexity sparks a curiosity that pushes me to delve deeper, to find simplicity, or perhaps accessibility, and beauty in what might otherwise seem confusing. Though it may not be everyone’s favourite, many still find a certain beauty in poetry, whether written or spoken. If I were to place myself on this spectrum, I’d find myself somewhere in the middle.
There are times in my life when I read poetry with a great hunger, even if I don’t fully understand it. In those moments, I imagine myself fully comprehending everything, though, more often than not, I am left bewildered, lost in the dissonance of sound and silence within the lines. It is this bewilderment and the search for meaning that Matthew Zapruder attempts to dissect in “Why Poetry?”. I picked this book out of wanting answers, hoping to understand why poetry feels so connected, even though in reality I feel utterly lost.
“Why Poetry?” explores not only why poetry matters but also how we might deepen our appreciation for it. It’s not merely about the technicalities of writing; it’s about the resonance of a poem, the way it touches and connects with us on a fundamental level. Not everyone wants to dissect a poem’s structure; some simply wish to experience it, to escape into its world. Poetry offers this escape, much like any other form of writing. The author reminds us that the simplicity of poetry is that it is story, it is art in the same way paintings are - they exist because someone needed to be seen. You can appreciate a painting without understanding it, and that is the approach we should take with poetry. Does it sound nice? Then it’s good enough.
What makes poetry special? According to the book, it is its unique ability to capture the indescribable, to create a space where time stands still. A poem can make the ordinary extraordinary, and sometimes, what you see really is what you get. This accessibility is often overshadowed by the fear of misinterpretation, of not seeing what others see. Yet, reading this book has shown me that poetry need not be intimidating; it can be a personal journey, free of judgment. You don’t need to disentangle Byron to claim you love poetry; the simplicity (or is that directness) of poets like Wendy Cope tells just as much a story. Poetry, like all art, changes as society does.
Unfortunately, as I turned the last page, I felt a twinge of disappointment. The book had answered its titular question, yet something seemed missing. I had enjoyed the storytelling, the analyses of various poems, the recommendations, but there was an unfulfilled promise of deeper insight. What I expected to be a comprehensive educational read turned out to be more of a memoir, rich in personal bias. But this is in itself the issue described at the start of the review, I went looking for deeper meaning and was left disappointed. Perhaps Zapruder did answer my queries after all. It is in personal bias where art matters, and that is why poetry, perhaps, often feels like it should be more than it is.
Despite this, “Why Poetry?” managed to convey an important message: poetry’s value lies in its ability to resonate personally with each reader. It’s not always about understanding every word or dissecting every line. Sometimes, it’s about feeling the rhythm, hearing the voice, and letting the poem wash over you. In this way, the book succeeded in deepening my appreciation for poetry, reminding me that the beauty of poetry often lies in its mystery. If you are starting out on your poetry journey, or you have a hefty pile of anthologies propped against a shelf somewhere, this book is a genuinely practical guide for anyone who finds answers through others’ experiences.