The Book of Delights

In these turbulent and often-dour times, Ross Gay’s book is in my medicine cabinet. Primarily a poet, Gay takes up a daily practice of finding delight and recording it, developing what he calls a “delight muscle.” I think of delight as awe’s less flamboyant cousin: not flashy, but definitely related.

I love these short, spirited, funny, loose-limbed essays in which Gay shares discovered delights, often many more than one per essay, from the praying mantis on an abandoned pint glass at a café to the tomato seedling carried onto a plane, from the hard-to-break habit of annoyance to the surprisingly… show more.

This collection of short essays chronicles daily delights for a year. A much-needed reminder that we need to seek out and notice small moments of delight, even when they aren’t obvious. I’ll be reading this one again.

Sometimes you read a book that creates a seismic shift in how you view the world—The Book of Delights is that book.

Ross Gay shines light on wonderful little things in a poetic, deep, and introspective way that doesn't sidestep the fact that life is hard and ugly sometimes. Since reading this book, I’ve found myself noticing delightful things on a daily basis—a much-needed grounding practice when you’re feeling devastated by the state of the world.

In Ross Gay’s linked essay collection, The Book of Delights, the desire to record joyous observations, and to examine the complexities and “underbellies” of such quotidian moments—becomes, as the book progresses, an act of political commentary, and unexpected engagement of social justice. The essay, “Bird Feeding,” shows Gay obsessively watching a man feed a pigeon until their bodies—that of the man and that of the bird—seem to fuse together. “How often do you get to see someone slow dancing with a pigeon!” Gay exclaims, revealing the often-hidden tenderness that can exist between human beings and wild birds.