海角大神

In 2016, Ross Gay set out to write an essay every day about something that delighted him. He wrote quickly and by hand to capture a moment, chronicle an encounter, marvel about the natural world, or ruminate on the mysteries of human behavior. That collection of charming essayettes turned into the 2019 bestseller 鈥淭he Book of Delights,鈥� in which he reflects on kindness, dreams, racism, books, politics, pop music, his garden, and more.

Gay found that the discipline of daily writing engendered a kind of 鈥渄elight radar鈥� simply by compelling him to pay greater attention to what he loved. And in 2021, he decided to reinvigorate the yearlong practice into a lifelong project. With his latest compilation, 鈥淭he Book of (More) Delights,鈥� we are gifted with essays that are just as quirky, engaging, wryly humorous, and sometimes strikingly profound as the first set. These missives are not a cloying gratitude list, as the title might lead one to expect, and they offer a provocative, episodic read that makes a strong case for looking for joy in the everyday.

Every delight, he writes, 鈥渋s a delight of record, even if you don鈥檛 record it with your pencil; it lodges in the body, particularly if you give it some lodging by noting it 鈥� is another little gnomic bit of truth, a mini haiku in all caps spray-painted on the rusty corrugated siding of a building that seems abandoned but who knows.鈥�

This time around, Gay is a little older and perhaps just a wee bit more cynical. He is a tad darker at times, noting a book of delights exists amid ample instances of 鈥渦ndelights.鈥� But he is still as unpredictable and eclectic, unfurling his prose in an unpretentious tone full of 鈥渄udes鈥� and cheeky vernacular. Essays often read like a chat with your most entertainingly anecdotal pal.聽

Gay, an award-winning poet who also has written the book 鈥淚nciting Joy鈥� and four collections of poetry, is still living in Bloomington, Indiana, where he teaches at Indiana University. Much of the book is a chronicle of life in a college town 鈥撀爄ncluding the little wonders he notices wandering the sidewalks of his community, chance meetings with friends and strangers, and discoveries of nature鈥檚 treasures in his own backyard.

But many of the essays are memories, musings on dreams (in both senses of the word), and ponderings on everything from hickeys to hummingbirds. He writes about a perfect notebook, the power of scent, a walking-stick lending library (鈥淥h, this is a thing,鈥� he marvels). One essay is a lovely elegy of his feisty Nana, another is a charming ode to dandelions, and yet another is almost a rant against Macy鈥檚 Thanksgiving Day Parade. Some are laugh-out-loud hilarious, while others can bring tears to your eyes with a surprising stab of recognition and poignance. I love his take on being open to wonder: 鈥淲onder鈥檚 opposite emotion is know-it-all-ery. The know-it-all鈥檚 job is to put a stake in wonder鈥檚 fat and gooey heart.鈥澛�

Gay鈥檚 style in this new collection of 鈥渄elights鈥� has become even more meandering, sometimes frustratingly so. He is the king of digression, from parentheticals that run on so long you almost forget the subject, to full-on tangents that often stray wildly from the initial idea. But you have to hand it to him 鈥� when he veers off course, the man commits hard. He also gives in to his love for 鈥渇ull-bodied, full-throated footnotes,鈥� some of which are nearly as long as the body of the essay. But always, always read these 鈥� most, like the plea to opt for human rather than digital interaction whenever possible, are so worth the detour.

At heart, 鈥淭he Book of (More) Delights鈥� is about the passage of time and what it means to be alive. It is a wise, insightful, thought-provoking, and appreciative reverie on the complexities of the human condition, fueled by what Gay calls his favorite curiosity 鈥� 鈥渨hy we are who we are.鈥�