Unlike its precursor, the sun and her flowers by Rupi Kaur is not painted in black. The cover is pale white and minimalistic, and and it is a good metaphor for this book because the sun and her flowers is more or less the paler version of Rupi Kaur’s first poetry collection, milk and honey.
They say success breeds imitation, but who knew that Rupi Kaur’s greatest imitator is Rupi Kaur. The thematic division of the five processes is akin to the one seen in milk and honey, but that is the beautiful part of the collection. The division of the poems into wilting, falling, rooting, rising and blooming shows Rupi Kaur’s particular brand of poetry, and it is a rather intriguing element in the book. If you thought this is all that this collection has in common with her previous one, you are wrong.
The poetry is exactly the same. And I don’t mean the themes are the same. I mean all of it. The ideas explored as well the ways in which they are explored are exactly the same as in milk and honey. It is frustrating because it seems like Rupi Kaur has gone from finding her voice to pandering to the masses.
The poems seem an extension of a single work. They are fragmented by the poet’s need to cater to the demands of an increasing fan base. If I had a book that says “I need to know that I am beautiful” in a hundred different ways, this would be it. This is not to say that there is something inherently wrong with reiterating the same idea again and again, but it isn’t surprising if reading this book becomes a tedious task after a point. It becomes a drag, and the voice of reason raises its ugly head to convince you to stop reading.
I feel like this book is a 2 out of 5. Even the two points that I gave were for the celebration of the traditional Rupi Kaur verse as well as the wonderful illustrations, but have no doubt, the verses in this poetry collection pale in comparison to what you have read in milk and honey.
If there is a nerd hell, Rupi Kaur is in it.