Lush reflections on ordinary lives, displaying “formal talents and [Jackson’s] capacity for expanding the lyric potential of narrative” ( Rain Taxi ). In Hoops , Major Jackson continues to mine the solemn marvels of ordinary lives: a grandfather gardens in a tenement backyard; a teacher unconsciously renames her black students after French painters. The substance of Jackson's art is the representation of American citizens whose heroic endurance makes them remarkable and transcendent.
Major Jackson is an American poet and professor. He is the author of four collections of poetry: Roll Deep (2015), Holding Company (2010), Hoops (2006), finalist for an NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Literature-Poetry, and Leaving Saturn (2002), winner of the 2000 Cave Canem Poetry Prize and finalist for a National Book Critics Award Circle.
His poems have been published in literary journals and magazines including The New Yorker, The American Poetry Review, Callaloo, Poetry, and Tin House. His poetry has received critical attention in The Boston Globe, Christian Science Monitor, Parnassus, Philadelphia Inquirer, and on National Public Radio's All Things Considered. His work has been included in anthologies such as The Best American Poetry 2004, The Pushcart Prize XXIX: Best of the Small Presses, Schwerkraft, From the Fishouse, and The Word Exchange: Anglo-Saxon Poems in Translation. In 2013 he edited Countee Cullen: Collected Poems. [wikipedia]
Not that I can write a good poem, but Jackson's second effort got me thinking about my role as a writer in this contemporary world, my lineage, and the forces good and bad acting to shape my life of ideas. The book is cut three ways. The first section courses through the basketball-dreams inspired title poem and a score of short lyric reflections on coming of age and responsibility to memory and community. The second section continues the "Urban Renewal" series of Jackson's National Book Critic's Circle nominated collection LEAVING SATURN, in which Jackson examines the roles environment plays in his allegiances and maturation. A few of the poems in this second section are homage to his grandfather and a former teacher who tried and failed to instill in her students the transfigurative value of renaming oneself. The final section, and the book's heart, is an epistolary to the late Gwendolyn Brooks, who honored the young poet by asking him to read alongside her on one of her last reading/lecture tours. Here, in spare, rhymed narrative stanzas, Jackson explores the poet's tenuous link to social and personal history and the lineage that shapes an aesthetic. Where much of poetry today seems to forego clear moral questions, Jackson dives headlong into this old form, and emerges with a difficult, at times long-winded, but overall very rewarding and engaging exploration of one's responsibility as an artist to time and history. An engaging, if shaky, step forward for this poet I'm anxious to watch grow.
Brilliant 120-page collection of poems from W.W. Norton. Deft le mot juste ability. Formal poems that relate to BLM before it was a movement (basket ball, African American historical figures, Fisk University, pop culture, matters of violence, etc.). Quatrains of abab, and quatrains of axxa. Such symmetry in the stanzas and lengths thereof. The poem called "Urban Renewed" begins with part XIII. The poem "Letter to Brooks" is almost 70-pages long, with titled sections and numerical sections within--all composed of seven-line stanzas of ababacc. Such wherewithal to write such sustained epics. Freedom of interweaving the personal conscious with the collective. Genius.
Enjoyable, at times challenging, and usually pretty accessible, this collection is a kind of double homage to the author's inspirations, most especially Gwendolyn Brooks and Langston Hughes, but also to the extraordinary ordinary, the wellspring of daily life in black communities that demands to be sung.
I got my MA at University of Vermont, where Major Jackson teaches, and though I met him I never took one of his classes. I kind of wish I had, while I had the opportunity.
The first two portions of this collection are inspired by Jackson's hometown of Philadelphia and its culture, particularly playing basketball, rap, and drug culture. Many of the poems deal with basketball, as a way of being together in the community and experiencing connections with one another. Some deal with attempts at urban renewal through gardening or the arts, some deal with crimes, some deal with poverty and despair.
The second portion of the collection consists of poems written as letter to Gwendolyn Brooks, and they largely discuss the state of US culture, the state of US arts/literature/poetry, the state of Black American culture, and the state of academia. https://youtu.be/XtE7wRoF9vw
1. Try to understand what the author wished to do, and do not blame him for not achieving what he did not attempt. - Well the book was all poetry and i'm guessing the author wanted people to read his (Major Jackson) feelings in the book instead of him showing it. He wishes to show his feelings in a book then in person.
2. Give enough direct quotation—at least one extended passage—of the book's prose so the review's reader can form his own impression, can get his own taste. - In page 123 there is this poem called "Spring Garden" and this was one of my favorites from the book, me and the author have the same taste when it comes to this poem.
4. Go easy on plot summary, and do not give away the ending.… - Well the book is based in south burlington.
A lot of the poems are about philly and playing hoops- how could I not read it? Prolly closer to a 3.5 stars... all the poems are nicely executed, but the style ( a lot of end rhymes) and the need to call out l-a-n-u-a-g-e poetry is not my thing.
Do we really still need to label/classify for the sake of boxing/condemning/criticizing? How about we all just try and write damn good poems and not worry about who is doing what?
Or maybe we can just have silliman and jackson spar ala ben stein style-ha!
Major Jackson's second collection of poems, Hoops, is outstanding. His language is hip and fresh, reflective of the Philadelphia neighborhoods and basketball courts he grew up on as a kid. The most endearing part of this collection, however, is his letters in verse to the late poet Gwendolyn Brooks, Jackson's mentor. As Jackson states so well in verse, in the post-9/11 world, we need more intellectuals like Brooks around to make sense of the madness.
"I begin this stop all wrong: you should be Living at this hour. We need your bolts & resounding poems like we need Sweet Honey In the Rock's sacred songs, a revolt Against plain figurings, new and bold Metaphors to help us keep people always In vision, to fight the corporate bug away."
With tight syntax that intensifies musicality, these poems are full of verbs--action occurring as rapidly as allusion, as Gwendolyn Brooks meets Tupac Shakur. Here are some of my favorite moments:
"The whole city is here swiveling on a throb."
"the city its own bitter shrine."
"A squeegee blade against your tongue's length. Most dances are crimes against the face."
Jackson's book had me constantly smiling with its verbal inventiveness--rhythms evoking Langston Hughes, Gwendolyn Brooks, and (as the September edition of Poetry got just right) early T.S. Eliot--but it goes beyond that, and speaks to something substantial about modern American life and poetry. I'm looking forward to picking up Jackson's two other collections as soon as possible.
This is a wonderful book. Jackson combines pop inner city culture with erudite themes. The last section of the book - Letters to Brooks - is the most fun I've had with poetry in years. Keep on Major Jackson. We desperately need voices like yours.