• The reader reads aloud, with a sing-song up … then down … then down again cadence. My mood shifts from merely reluctant to derisive. It’s a tired reading style. I’m sick of it. It attaches more importance to the words than the words themselves—as they’ve been arranged—could possibly sustain, and it gives poets and poetry a bad name.

    Gabrielle Hamilton (2011). “Blood, Bones & Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef”, p.104, Random House