Hello and happy Sunday. Yes, I finally read The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo. No, it wasn’t what I thought it would be. Honestly, it’s not even that I didn’t like this book, but I didn’t connect with it like I’d expected it to, based on the reviews I consumed when it was published. Part of it can be that I read the audiobook version, who knows?

This is a novel written in verse about Xiomara and her life and her new-found love for slam poetry. It it worth the read, and I think it remains relevant, even years after its release. I just think I was not the target audience for it, or I wasn’t in the right headspace so it didn’t hit quite as hard as I’d anticipated it to.