Member Reviews

"๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด โ€“ ๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ณ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ณ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜ง๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด."

On paper, this is exactly what I should like as a club kid myself, but I found the collection to remain as surfaced-level as house parties go. At times, the prose lifts from the page to make me appreciate the sweet nights of kisses and gatherings and midnight antics, but just as fleeting. Form and function with the inclusion of photographs in here are what make the collection sing and string together a bit better.

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Gorgeous poetry about a long running house party in London, the longing for a very specific time of your life that's gone now, and some astounding pictures to go with it. Definitely pick it up.

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๐‘ป๐’‰๐’† ๐‘พ๐’Š๐’„๐’Œ๐’†๐’…๐’†๐’”๐’• ๐ข๐ฌ ๐š ๐ญ๐ซ๐ข๐›๐ฎ๐ญ๐ž ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฐ๐ก๐š๐ญ ๐ข๐ญ ๐ฆ๐ž๐š๐ง๐ฌ ๐ญ๐จ ๐›๐ž ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐ , ๐๐ฅ๐š๐œ๐ค, ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฏ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ฅ๐ข๐Ÿ๐ž ๐ญ๐จ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐Ÿ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ž๐ฌ๐ญ. ๐“๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ฏ๐ข๐›๐ซ๐š๐ง๐ญ ๐ฆ๐จ๐๐ž๐ซ๐ง ๐œ๐จ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ž๐œ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐๐ž๐ฉ๐ข๐œ๐ญ๐ฌ ๐š ๐ง๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐š๐ญ ๐š ๐ก๐จ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ž ๐ฉ๐š๐ซ๐ญ๐ฒ ๐ญ๐ก๐ซ๐จ๐ฎ๐ ๐ก ๐ž๐ฅ๐ž๐ ๐š๐ง๐ญ ๐ฌ๐จ๐ง๐ง๐ž๐ญ๐ฌ, ๐ญ๐ž๐ฑ๐ญ ๐ฆ๐ž๐ฌ๐ฌ๐š๐ ๐ž๐ฌ, ๐ฉ๐ก๐จ๐ญ๐จ๐ ๐ซ๐š๐ฉ๐ก๐ฌ, ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ฎ๐ง๐ข๐ช๐ฎ๐ž ๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ๐ฆ๐š๐ญ๐ฌ. ๐ˆ ๐œ๐จ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐๐งโ€™๐ญ ๐ฉ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐จ๐ง๐ž ๐๐จ๐ฐ๐ง! ๐ˆ๐ญ ๐ญ๐ก๐ซ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ฌ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐ซ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐ข๐ง๐ญ๐จ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐œ๐ค ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ž๐ฑ๐œ๐ข๐ญ๐ž๐ฆ๐ž๐ง๐ญ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐š ๐œ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ฒ ๐œ๐จ๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ญ๐จ๐ ๐ž๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ซ ๐ญ๐จ ๐๐š๐ง๐œ๐ž, ๐Ÿ๐ž๐ž๐ฅ ๐Ÿ๐ซ๐ž๐ž, ๐š๐ง๐ ๐œ๐ž๐ฅ๐ž๐›๐ซ๐š๐ญ๐ž ๐ฅ๐ข๐Ÿ๐ž ๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ ๐จ๐ง๐ž ๐ง๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ก๐ข๐ฅ๐ž ๐ฌ๐ข๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ญ๐š๐ง๐ž๐จ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐๐ž๐š๐ฅ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ก ๐๐ž๐ž๐ฉ๐ž๐ซ ๐ก๐ฎ๐ฆ๐š๐ง ๐ž๐ฆ๐จ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง๐ฌ.

๐’ฏ๐’ฝ๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐“€ ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š ๐“‰๐‘œ ๐’ž๐’ถ๐“๐‘’๐’ท ๐น๐‘’๐“‚๐’พ, ๐น๐’ถ๐“‡๐“‡๐’ถ๐“‡, ๐’ฎ๐“‰๐“‡๐’ถ๐“Š๐“ˆ, & ๐’ข๐’พ๐“‡๐‘œ๐“Š๐“, & ๐’ฉ๐‘’๐“‰๐’ข๐’ถ๐“๐“๐‘’๐“Ž ๐’ป๐‘œ๐“‡ ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐’œ๐‘…๐’ž! ๐’œ๐“๐“ ๐‘œ๐“…๐’พ๐“ƒ๐’พ๐‘œ๐“ƒ๐“ˆ ๐’ถ๐“‡๐‘’ ๐“‚๐“Ž ๐‘œ๐“Œ๐“ƒ.

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Caleb Femi's composition of The Wickedest is superb with time stamps marking the progression of the event this collection celebrates. Described as a 'modern epic', Femi explores the 'institution' of house parties through stunning lyricism married with hazy, kaleidoscopic photographs. We are transported to the vibrancy, heady and breathing walls of the house in which people are dancing, falling in love, and drowning their sorrows.

The Wickedest is a masterful follow up to Poor, particularly in regards to how it positively embraces culture. This collection is palpably free and wholly symbolic of what it portrays.

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I'm thinking about the "long poem" in relation to what Stephanie Burt has written about the form, namely questions of: "What holds a book of poems together? What makes it feel like something more than, something other than, a gathering, a stack, a heap, a mere collocation?"

Caleb Femiโ€™s The Wickedest provides an easy and effortless answer: a nightclub, an epic party, a dance that never ends. The Wickedest is a sweaty & intoxicating poem, glowing luminescent darkness all the way through. The only comp that comes to mind might be Tommy Pico's IRL, or Luke Kennard's Sonnets (a collection of poems set in a sad house party). Where Kennard is more formalistic and philosophical, Femi is nimble and playful with language and form; this is language that dances on the page. There's a shutter-like quality to the speaker's eye as they move through the space of the club, weaving in and out of moments that range from existential (03.51am, "Max glances at Shelly") to diabolically comical ("Should you have fear or respect for the person who takes a shit at a house party?"). I love the way Femi describes DJs as weaving sound into "sonic Matryoshka dolls / (inside a song / is another song singing)"; so much of his language lingers in the hot glow of remembering that what makes a good party experience are those ineffable moments on the dance floor, moments where you lock eyes with a stranger and music pours back and forth between people who don't even know each other's names.

I already know a few friends who I will gift this book to once it comes out, friends who don't usually read poetry, yet who will understand when they see a thing they love being written about with such quick and sharp care.

A note on the digital edition: a lot of the photographs appear pixelated or low-res, not sure if this was an intentional choice on Femi's part (it does fit with the book's overall aesthetic) but I found myself squinting to read photos that contained text, like in "Jevon catches the fever" and the "Promotion Event Risk Assessment Form" (p. 34 of ebook). I haven't checked yet but I do hope there is alt text for the photographs, as they feel like an essential part of the book's vocabulary and flow.

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I didn't like it. Felt lacking in substance, A lot of noise, but the poetry is weak on satisfaction, not sure what the point of the work is, what the writer is trying to say. Feels like a desire to be cool, wouldn't recomend. The vibes are just off.

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I loved the journey this book took me on, it was a quick read with a lot to say from party antics to political stances. The addition of photos created an almost immersive experience while reading.

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