Be Holding: A Poem

Be Holding: A Poem

by Ross Gay

Narrated by Ross Gay

Unabridged

Be Holding: A Poem

Be Holding: A Poem

by Ross Gay

Narrated by Ross Gay

Unabridged

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Available for Pre-Order. This item will be released on October 8, 2024

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Overview

Winner, 2021 PEN/Jean Stein Award
Winner, 2021 Ohioana Book Award in Poetry
Winner, 2022 Indiana Author Award in Poetry

Be Holding*is a love song to legendary basketball player Julius Erving-known as Dr. J-who dominated courts in the 1970s and `80s as a small forward for the Philadelphia `76ers. But this book-length poem is more than just an ode to a magnificent athlete. Through a kind of lyric research, or lyric meditation, Ross Gay connects Dr. J's famously impossible move from the 1980 NBA Finals against the Los Angeles Lakers to pick-up basketball and the flying Igbo and the Middle Passage, to photography and surveillance and state violence, to music and personal histories of flight and familial love.*Be Holding*wonders how the imagination, or how our looking, might make us, or bring us, closer to each other. How our looking might make us reach for each other. And might make us be reaching for each other. And how that reaching might be something like joy.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly

★ 08/17/2020

The brilliant fourth book from Gay, his first since winning the National Book Critics Circle Award with 2015’s Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude, continues his now-signature inquiry into feeling. Shaped as a single poem in a long sentence of center-justified couplets, the drama of this unfolding sentence is impeccable, a suspension that mirrors its subject: basketball Hall-of-Famer Julius Erving’s midair “baseline scoop” in the 1980 NBA finals. An invocation of a video of Erving opens the poem’s investigation into flight, falling, and Black genius: “ave you ever decided anything/ in the air?” Gay asks in an interjection. In the space of that air, he crafts a book of associative digression, exploring photography, his own upbringing, and the afterlife of slavery in the U.S. “he cotton, the unshared crop,/ let’s hereon call it what it is,” he writes, “loot, plain and simple,/ which, too,// my great grandfather’s body was,/ loot, and his life, loot.” When, in interjections and asides to the reader, a period does appear, it is not as a halt or a command but a gesture of care: “But let’s breathe first./ We’re always holding our breath.// Let’s stop and breathe, you and me.” This extraordinary book offers an unforgettable flight from the conventional boundaries of the sentence. (Sept.)

From the Publisher

This book-length poem is a voice’s drive down center court. At once record, collage, group photograph, dance, and archive, Be Holding reveals a multifaceted intimacy and lyricism within the history of a game, tracing how this history is interconnected with the saga of our country. Ross Gay has once again proven himself one of our greatest poets.” —Claudia Rankine

“Nothing happens only when it happens. Right now, we’re all tree-borne watching the Doctor all but not come down, again and again. We feel the weight of our enjoyment, the heavy duress we’re under when it happens, where it happens, where nothing happens only where it happens. Behold! We are held in flight. Is that why Dr. J tried to give the last word on that move, saying it was ‘just another move,’ saying so all but sadly? Well, Be Holding unfolds that word, moves it and releases it, re-releasing that move in carefully watching, again and again, for all that differentiates it from all the descendant moves and for all that entangles it with all the ascendant ones. The flights in fallenness, the grave plays on stillness, the refusals of space and time, the reprovals of being and history, are so serious that it’s as if it were just a game, not a game, not a game, this practice of desperate falling into looking. We play it light, though. There’s no last word on what we hand and hold, or on what we behold, or on our beholding. Again and again, in the beautiful note he holds and hands, that’s what Ross Gay be saying.” —Fred Moten

“My Lord. The brilliance, formal dexterity, and deep generosity of this book. This book that makes me rethink what poetry can offer, both in a literary and holistic sense. Ross Gay takes one fluid human gesture and through it expands the lungs of personal and communal history so they might hold all joy, terror, and violence of this world. Be Holding is unlike any poetry book written in recent memory. In this terrible era, Ross Gay has written a book that breathes this broken world in and then returns it to us so we might breathe too. And break. And bloom into whatever it is we are on the path to becoming.” —Gabrielle Calvocoressi

"There are no idle spectators in this new bougainvillea book-length poem by Ross Gay.

Tender, incisive, double-dutching couplets, stretch end to end. We are hula-hooped

on and off the court then deposited inside photographs and lush gardens, calipers in hand,

ready to measure the honey, the scent, the circumference of our eyes, hearts, hand." —Nikky Finney

Product Details

BN ID: 2940191347288
Publisher: Hachette Audio
Publication date: 10/08/2024
Edition description: Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

Excerpt from Be Holding
 
and so Doc leapt,
he left his feet,
 
which means more or less jumping with the ball
with nowhere to go, and which
 
we’re warned against by coaches
from day one
 
for the ensuing requisite stupid pass
or more simply though no less stupid
 
travel, also called walking,
which the leaping often leads to,
 
keep your feet!
again and again,
 
which makes the leaping—leaving your feet—
sound sacrificial,
 
the way in certain places, certain
countries, or countries inside of countries,
 
you must leave by foot with nowhere to go,
which there is,
 
and Doc, you should note, after the one dribble
clasps the ball with only his right hand
 
without once at all in any shape or form
using the left, which, among other things,
 
friends, differentiates this from all
the descendant moves—
 
Kevin Durant, Dwayne Wade,
Steph and Giannis and Harden and Kawhi,
 
yes, Bron Bron too,
I shall not be moved—
 
and using only one hand,
which is amazing but not yet miraculous,
 
more a physical and therefore genetic fact
(thanks Ma & Pa Erving),
 
Doc’s hand becomes an octopus
gripping the ball nothing like prey,
 
and with that ball snugged in his mitt
Doc maybe kinda sorta thought something like
 
I am going to put this schmuck
(the schmuck in this case being Landsberger,
 
though do not, please, revert to a simplistic
allegorization of the journeyman,
 
which word I repeat advisedly)
on a poster,
 
though schmuck is a word I’d be
surprised to hear Doc say,
 
and the word posterize,
(common usage: posterize his ass)
 
you might be thinking,
is a bit of an anachronism in this poem,
 
in this move, which ostensibly occurred
in the 1980 NBA Finals,
 
though we all know that nothing happens
only when it happens
 
 

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