I bought this book after watching a brief Youtube video of Luke Kennard reading one of his poems, "The Dusty Era", to a live audience in the UK. There has been quite a lot of write-up about this young poet in England, and I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. As a rather jaded and tired working adult, I must confess I can't remember when was the last time I bought a book of modern poems (must have been when I had to study for the GREs?), but I am so glad to have bought this slim volume. Some of the poems are short, episodic prose pieces that are rather like flash fiction, which remind me of how far modern poetry has evolved. Kennard's poems are unpretentious, witty, lyrical, but most importantly, they are sincere. I can't claim to understand all of them, but I am not insecure. I rather like taking a stroll through his delirious world, just like I enjoy walking through the Centre Pompidou and the Tate Modern on a Sunday afternoon. You never know what you are going to encounter round the corner, but you can be sure you will glimpse the inner workings of a fevered artist who spent more time worrying about something that you should be worried about and yet lack the time, inclination, or ability to. In this era of easily digestible and brainless media, "The Migraine Hotel" is sparkling, challenging, and new. Time and money well spent.