Nature poetry is not a new genre. To quote Mary Fontana - shoehorn some meadows into your poetry and “find a shortcut to the sublime.”

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Franny Choi takes the exact opposite approach to her sophomore collection, Soft Science. Here, language isn’t flowy; it’s digitized. Cyborgs and Turing Tests program the pages. The opening glossary is full of imaginative leaps (of course, the antonym of mouth is mouth!) that promise an intelligent look at themes like identity, sexuality, and language in the modern world. As a sci-fi-loving poetry nerd, I was enthralled. 

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And then I kept reading. 

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After I finished, I spent three hours researching Turing Tests and soft sciences, trying to understand my confusion. I read the book again. Out of 34 poems, only five poems truly made sense to me. This led me to a theory: we need less intelligent poetry editors in the world, so they can ask stupider questions like ‘what the hell is happening?’ 

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Soft Science’s ideas often outpace its emotional connection. Cyborgs and humans blend without clear cues. Language flashes like code - dense and disconnected. Sexuality isn’t a starting point here, it’s often the end-all: “my stupid stupid need / my country / my cunt / i hate it why won’t / it work.” In the kindest way, it doesn’t get much more developed than that. You almost wonder if by abandoning traditional, accessible imagery, Choi loses the connection to the soft bits of humanity. 

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The incomputable part? Choi is a great writer. Her essay “Imitation Games” touches on similar themes as Soft Science, but adds context and warmth. It’s a great read. 

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Unless you’re a huge fan of Choi, skip the book. Read “Imitation Games” instead. If I can count on one hand the amount of poems I ‘got,’ maybe the poet should - occasionally - touch grass. 

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