Ryan Ruby's 'Context Collapse' and Poetry's Dystopian Present
Ruby's buzzy new book revives the verse essay; this post revives the 2017 Rupi Kaur plagiarism beef
Ryan Ruby’s book Context Collapse, claiming to be a “poem containing a history of poetry”, was recently buzzing on Poetry Twitter, followed by a few prominent write-ups hailing it as a kind of revelation. As a poetry boi (with a standing policy of never missing out on some juicy discourse), I decided I had to give it a read. I’ve since seen some other pieces about it and have gathered that this book is pretty polarizing. I, too, was polarized by it, though in two directions at once.1
I’ll admit: on the one hand, I loved reading Context Collapse. I will also admit that stylistically, it was often very frustrating. For me, the history Ruby takes readers through is about as revelatory as all the hype promised. Where it didn’t succeed was as a great epic poem or a genre-breaking “new” or “revived” poetic form, despite what its marketing seemed intent to imply.2
The book’s central poetic conceit—that it is an epic poem or at least a “verse essay” disguised as a parody of an academic essay, or perhaps the other way around— falls a little too squarely into the “gimmick” trap it later deconstructs, unfortunately, and Ruby shoots himself a bit too much bail in the intro with all the who-can-say-what-a-poem-or-a-poet-even-is equivocation. Likewise, Ruby’s stance of “I’m parodying academic texts with this poem, but it’s a serious joke, and you should read it seriously as both a poem and an academic text” is a pretty transparent attempt to critic-proof a conceptual approach that straight up doesn’t work. All this is a bit of a bummer, since both the subject matter and the creative potential of the conceit seemed so intriguing from a distance.
These things aside, I resonated deeply with Ruby’s central arguments: that poetry might best be understood as a technological innovation, and that the ontological “purpose” of poetry3 is primarily ethical. Reading the second point was particularly refreshing, even if it seemed obvious, because after countless classes and workshops in recent years, I’m not so sure it is anymore.
The collision of poetry throughout the ages with other cutting-edge technological advances (through the written word, the printing press, and up to and including AI, LLMs, and even bioengineering and designer genetics) is the crux of Context Collapse, the most recent examples of which were particularly startling. They were also particularly easy to appreciate, because however much creatives instinctively resent technological innovation, I’ve resented the reticence to investigate any of it in a more methodical way. Often, the sentiments you’ll encountered are reactionary, without any real curiosity about how these developments will change what “being a human being” means, how they are already shaping our consciousness, how the momentum of these changes-in-progress will make them virtually inevitable to succeed, regardless of whatever resistance we might mount against them—and importantly, why none of this means human-created-and-oriented poetry is no longer worthwhile or necessary.
Ruby’s disclaimer that his “history of poetry” is incomplete feels a lot more genuine and in good faith than his creative disclaimers, and whatever incompleteness there is as he traces the origins of Western poetic forms has only inspired me to do some additional reading. I agree with the implicit argument: I’d like to have a more complete picture of the real, lost origins of the art form I love, and I’d like to examine whatever forgotten implications those origins have on whatever poetry I’m trying to write in 2025 and beyond.
Also: on some level, Ruby is right. Who am I to turn someone away from a “bad” poem when the guidelines for what constitutes a poem or a poet are so fluid—and when I myself have such an incomplete understanding of the medium’s conventions? I’m able to see the poetic merit of the Ashberys, Baudelaires, and Carsons of the world as well as the creative merits—and I’m being genuine here—of a poet like Rupi Kaur at the same time. Can’t Context Collapse have its own set of merits as well, even if they are presently lost on me? More pointedly, doesn’t Context Collapse have at least as much poetic merit as something like Kaur’s Milk and Honey?4
If this seems like an absurd comparison, know that I make it (partly) in jest—it’s just ironic, given some of the book’s arguments, that Ruby is so glib and dismissive in his assessment of Kaur’s work and where we should situate her in the arena of poetry’s digital transformation.5 Normally, these would be slight details, but in the context of a sweeping survey of watershed developments in poetry from antiquity to the information age, not addressing them head-on and with a little more nuance feels like a pretty significant oversight (one that could potentially call some of the scholarship supporting the book’s more substantial arguments into question).
To be clear, I’m not arguing that Kaur’s poetry is unusually “good”, that she’s innocent or guilty of plagiarism,6 or that she’s had an overwhelmingly positive effect on the world of contemporary poetry. The comparison is only to make a point. Whatever alleged crimes Kaur has been accused of committing against the poetry world writ large—that she has somehow cheapened the medium, that being an “Instagram poet” (or, God forbid, a “content creator”) is somehow creatively disqualifying, or whatever other arguments people will try to make—are vastly overstated. I also expect a serious cultural critic to notice those nuances, rather than simply jumping on the bandwagon to build rapport with some hip, imagined reader.7 8
It’s a little too easy to implicitly and dismissively frame yourself as automatically better, creatively speaking, than one of the most technologically influential and objectively successful poets of our time, regardless of whether or not you respect her—especially when your book is centered on the collision of poetry with technological capitalism while considering what remaining routes exist that we might take out of the labyrinth (Kaur’s career seems to hold some possibilities, here).
The unexamined flip side of this is that Ruby makes a passionate case that Gertrude Stein is actually the most accomplished and influential modernist of her era, a take as contrarian as the one above, albeit in a more elitist direction. Again, I’m not saying there’s not a case to be made, nor am I denying Stein’s impact or claiming Kaur can stand beside her as a stylist, but Stein has also written her fair share of poems that are only "readable or influential in the loosest sense of those words. Without caping for any one camp or fandom, one should take care when throwing stones from a glass house, even if you suspect your neighbors will turn a blind eye when you do it—but I digress.
All of the above are admittedly minor quibbles, and truthfully, nobody needs to stump for either Rupi Kaur or Gertrude Stein. All other things considered equal, Context Collapse is both concise and staggeringly broad, which makes it pretty difficult, as an author, to avoid every possible rhetorical or artistic trap as you unearth them all, so I leave this whole project with a willingness to be extremely forgiving.
I’m also aware that I’m forcing a connection here that I doubt virtually anyone cares to make, but I think it might be relevant to help adjust readers’ expectations. If you’re coming to this book for thought-provoking theories and heterodox history delivered in rapid-fire succession, Context Collapse will likely feel like an overwhelming success. If you’re coming to it expecting the first great epic, conceptual hybrid poem in the first third of the 21st century, you may be sorely disappointed.
For the informed reader, there is a ton to like here as well as dozens of avenues for further reading. For my part, I will still be recommending this to many a poet out there (though I already dread the discourse that will ensue).9
Which, coincidentally, is how a massage therapist once described a set of opposing muscles in my shoulders that were particularly knotted (“You really never see that—it’s usually one or the other…”).
One of the book’s “paratexts,” as Ruby puts it, which he argues are critically inextricable from any text-in-itself.
If it can even have one in a capitalist society, which Ruby also momentarily questions.
To be blunt again for a moment: Kaur and Ruby are working different sides of the street, but even if I try to measure each one by its own set of standards, the results are at best very, very close. If I’m being a little less generous, by my estimation, Kaur actually has the edge on Ruby when it comes to poetics.
And all this without even touching on Kaur’s accusations of plagiarizing Nayyirah Waheed, which are probably the most potentially damning details I’ve read about her (and, again, are particularly relevant considering all the thorny new questions in the social media culture wars about the limits of authorship, the difference between cultural appreciation and appropriation, the internecine (partially, at least) conflicts between Black and WOC activists over the finer points of misogynoir—the list goes on.
Philosophical debates about plagiarism only more relevant when weighing the influence and implications of AI and LLMs…
For quite a while now, the major lines of critique against Kaur have started to feel like scapegoating, dogpiling, and idle trolling, especially in light of the fact that she’s shown exponentially more spine about speaking out against the genocide in Palestine than many of her contemporaries and with exponentially more to potentially lose for doing so. After all, consistently standing up for humanist-oriented ethics with entire chest is the entire telos of being “a poet” that Ruby consistently argues for…
Also, before you label me a Rupi Kaur apologist: I’ve read Waheed’s collection salt and I suspect Kaur probably did lift from her quite a bit (and for the record, salt is considerably better than Milk and Honey). I also did (and still do) love the “—Rupi Kaur” memes 😂
With all my dick-measuring snark now behind me, I’ll shoot Ruby some creative bail of my own: For whatever wasn’t fully clicking in the main text, my man was legitimately cooking in the final Tornada section, both poetically and conceptually, so credit where credit’s due: as a poet, he is certainly capable. Poetry, like technological innovation, is an iterative practice where even the greatest practitioners often fall short of their ambitions. As the saying goes, if you wow them at the end, you’ve got a hit—and the only other popular hit piece I’ve read about this book was written by someone who, after browsing his Substack, seems not worth taking seriously.