Karen Ponzio Photos
Ross Gay: "The hope is to be unmade in the process.”
Ross Gay practiced what he preaches last night at Possible Futures, as the poet, essayist, and teacher offered a grateful crowd a selection of his work encompassing joy and tenderness that brought them from rapt silence to riotous laughter and everywhere in between.
A selection of Ross Gay's books.
Gay has authored four books of poetry — Against Which, Bringing the Shovel Down, Be Holding, and Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude, which won the 2015 National Book Critics Circle Award — and three essay collections, The Book of Delights, Inciting Joy, and his most recent release, The Book of (More) Delights. As the writer says on his own website, “Ross Gay is interested in joy. Ross Gay wants to understand joy. Ross Gay is curious about joy. Ross Gay studies joy. Something like that.”
Even if you are not familiar with Gay’s books, you still may have seen his poem, “Thank You,” from the book Against Which, that has found itself in permanent rotation across social media, and with good reason. It is a perfect example of Gay’s connectedness to the world and his ability to get to the heart of our common loves and losses.
Lauren Anderson.
That sense of community and communal word was ever-present last night at the Edgewood bookstore and gathering space even before Gay arrived at the podium. Owner Lauren Anderson thanked “our friends at Yale” who brought Gay to town for workshops, as well as an event at Battell Chapel (which happens tonight), and who also wanted to “spread the joy to the community” through the event at Possible Futures.
Anderson also shared her own connection to Gay and his work, noting that 10 years ago she had been an “ambivalent academic” who had given up reading for pleasure. After signing up for a poem-a-day email, she started gathering poems she loved. One of the first was a poem by Gay. That gathering of poems led her to start reading poetry collections, which then “nurtured” her towards a new career and the founding of a bookstore.
“Thank you to Ross Gay for helping me back to myself and to the place we are inside,” she said.
After offering some background information on Gay, Anderson then introduced writer, comedian, and “all around wonderful human being” Shawn Murray, who had gifted the space a poem titled “Possible Futures” that now hangs on the outside of the building for all to see. Murray, who grew up two blocks from the space, offered his gratitude to Anderson after reading the powerful and poignant poem, then introduced Gay to the appreciative crowd.
Gay arrived to the podium with a big hello and a big smile to match, mentioning immediately how the name of the space resonated with him when he realized what it meant.
“Oh, Possible Futures! That’s good,” he said to a bounty of laughter. “It’s so beautiful. I love it.”
The essay he began with, called “Improvised Pocket Parks,” was an apropos choice as he talked about “looking for a warm nook to sit in … a public place in which to do so,” and when he found no pocket parks, he then began “looking for seams in the propertized world.”
On that day, that meant a church. “A church, belonging to God, who is everywhere and everything, kind of belongs to everyone. Seems to me anyway.”
The next piece espoused the wonders of a now-closed “beautifully curated bookstore” called Joseph Fox’s, but after getting only a couple of lines into it, Gay stopped and said “I was needing a bell hooks book and I see there’s one right there. I don’t want to forget.” He asked to have it put aside for him, which garnered laughter and cheers from the book-loving crowd, who seemed to understand completely.
“A good bookstore is also a good nook store,” Gay read, and ended the piece with a line that brought audible agreements from the crowd: “these booksellers, these gods, these friends.”
The majority of the pieces were from Gay’s latest book of essays, The Book of (More) Delights, which picks up the same theme of The Book of Delights five years later, to write a daily essay that shares the delights he encounters, though he did read one poem titled “Burial” that describes the planting of two plums trees and scattering some of his father’s ashes among the roots; it becomes a magical meditation on death, life, and rebirth into another life as memory and more.
Gay also volleyed between the two Delight books to share two essays that spoke of two different experiences playing basketball against younger players that made him take another look at himself and his own judgments. He elicited laughter from the crowd as he talked about how he and his friend “kicked the shit out of them,” but also how the phrase did not have to be used because they merely scored more baskets.
Gay laughed and smiled along with everyone, having a blast throughout the reading. “I’m so glad to be here,” he said. “It’s so fun.”
He based his reading choices on the crowd, saying he could tell which groups he could read certain pieces for. After sharing a loving and touching essay called “Debarge” on Tiny Desk — about El Debarge’s NPR performance that he called “one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen” — he read another music-related essay from Inciting Joy called “Went Free,” which got the loudest response of the evening as he talked about a phrase his friend Patrick used to describe dancing. He then rejoiced in the exultation and exuberance with which certain songs can make you do just that. I’m pretty sure that if Gay had played one of those songs right then and there, the people in the crowd would have risen to their feet and went free right along with him.
A short question and answer period followed the readings. Gay talked about difficulties when assembling poems and essays, noting that he has gotten “more fastidious” as he has gotten older and has become a “perpetual reviser.”
“I love it,” he said with smile, adding that there’s “a lot of not knowing” and that he is happiest when returning to that stage.
He also spoke glowingly about his students and classes when asked when he was happiest as a teacher. “I love when people listen to each other in class,” he said. When asked about his work with the Bloomington Community Orchard, Gay noted how it has helped him learn “what it means to be a person.”
Before taking time to sign books for the crowd, Gay ended with questions about his relationship with aging and memory, as well as what he considers the scariest parts of the writing process.
“The reason I write is to unknow myself, to become unfamiliar to myself,” he said. “What arrives is difficult, but it’s also the pleasure. The hope is to be unmade in the process.”
There was something comforting about that thought to this reporter as both a writer and as simply (and not so simply) a human. It reminded me of the concept of beginning again, not just at different stages of your life, but each and every day. To find the delight, the joy, the magic in things you have seen a hundred times, but can experience for the first time in a new way. I couldn’t stop smiling even after I got my book signed. And I wasn’t the only one.
A reading and talk with Ross Gay is scheduled for today from 4:30 to 6 p.m. at Battell Chapel, 400 College St. It is free and open to the public, but you must register via the Belonging at Yale website in order to attend.