Here is my book review on The Way of the Wind:
If you have to read a poem, read one of these.
No; wait. That's not quite what I mean.
I mean, if you hate poetry, you oughta read this.
Uh, that isn't what I was going for, either. Let me try one more time.
What I mean is if you think that poetry is all about rhythm and rhyme and meter and what was the author's reason for choosing this symbolism, (No, that's not right! C- for you!) then you would be pleasantly surprised by Ken's poetry. It's not about iambic pentameters at all. It's about some hard ground, and the hard-headed people who broke it. It's not just about my family, either. It's about anybody's family, everybody's family, your family, and the place they called home and the love for it that you inherited on your genetic string right alongside your brown eyes or freaky birthmark or your good ear for harmony.
Yeah. It is. It's about that.
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