Magic City Gospel is a love song to Birmingham, the Magic City of the South. In traditional forms and free verse poems, 2015 Rona Jaffe Writer's Award-winner Ashley M. Jones takes readers on a historical, geographical, cultural, and personal journey through her life and the life of her home state.
Wow this book is beautiful. All of it, everylittlebit. Like how the first poem is about Sam Cooke & fear. I esp. love the endings of these poems. "your accent heavy as oil, it sounds like a proverb—clean tomato, sovereign God." Poems about Alabama (which I love bc my fam is from Alabama) & blackness & black women & black boys & God & food & the South. Oh how I love poetry and this book was a perfect and gorgeous reminder of why & why & why.
Magic City Gospel is stunning on a line level, on a poem level, on a book level. Jones is a master of poetic forms: in addition to free verse and prose poetry, this book boasts a sonnet, villanelle, sestina, abecedarian, haiku sequence, and golden shovel -- all unimpeachably, fluidly rendered and pitch-perfect not just as specimens of forms but as poems generally. With a strong, authoritative voice, these poems take on history, geography, culture, and memory, bringing Alabama to life so vividly that you can taste it, its foods and even its soil. The tender brushes shoulders with the harrowing in these poems; scenes of racial violence, historical and contemporary, are treated with world-wisdom that makes painfully clear how intrinsic such scenes are to any narrative about this land. And this is all done through gorgeous images, shimmering spot-on metaphors: a songstress's legs are "shotguns waiting to be loaded up with bullet beats," a young man's cause of death is "the metallic tantrums / of an officer's gun," a beloved aunt has "sweets, tucked like children, in her cheeks," and a budding writer discovering her love of language is described with infectious enthusiasm this way: "Inside, you tilt with excitement. You light up, a pinball machine of colloquialisms."
a. You finally get the courage to use the word when you’re sixteen. When you finally wear a real bra and can count on your hips to fit into a skirt the right way. Your tongue is a bit looser these days—you even get the jokes when you’re talking with your mom and all the women in her family. When grandmother squeals out a dig at someone you don’t know, you find something slippery in it and laugh, finally, with the throat of a woman. Someone asks you who you went to the store with the other day. Mama’nem, you say. Inside, you tilt with excitement. You light up, a pinball machine of colloquialisms.
b. At school, you’ve become a comedian. You’re quick with jokes about race—you’re the only black girl in most of your classes. It is easy to blend in and stand out. You offer opinions when they are required—during Black History Month, during the unit on the Atlantic Slave Trade, when you and the teacher are the only ones who can name a black poet who is not Langston Hughes. You have perfected what you call "the Klansman:” a short impression you pull out when there’s no more conversation amongst your peers. They are impressed with your feigned Southern accent. They are more impressed with how you wield the n-word. Me, Billy-Ray’annem gon’ round up some niggers, you say. You watch your classmates laugh. Their eyes bulge like hot dough.
This book left me in awe. In *Magic City Gospel,* Jones takes on the work of poet, historian, educator, activist, and disciple, mastering them all from cover to cover. She interweaves public and personal histories to cast a transformative spotlight on Birmingham, Southern culture, and even readers' own self-reflection. Rich, candid, and alive, *Magic City Gospel* led me to a new love for poetry and inspired me once again to "keep shining in this weary world."
If you're not sure you like poetry, but want to try and see, this book of love for Birmingham Alabama may be just what you want. Published just this year, Ashley M. Jones writes about what it feels like (and smells like, and sounds like, and tastes like) to grow up as a black girl in AL, with a steady eye on realism, and an eye glowing with hope. It's beautiful, and a pleasure to read.
A stunning prayer of a book. Jones writes: "Nothing good in life comes without stirring--/the promise of butter, the salty whirring/of pressure in a pot." And these poems stir the pot of history and memory to create a word painting of great beauty and power.
I complain a lot about modern free verse and then a collection like this comes and reminds me that generalizations are false and some people come and Rumplestiltskin the heck out of some straw.
Beautiful, forceful, evocative. I read this in one sitting in a Mobile, Alabama, coffee shop and sometimes found myself rereading poems and mouthing them because they filled me with the kind of emotions you can't hurry through.
"Rammer Jammer," "God Speaks To Alabama," "Viewing A KKK Uniform at the Civil Rights Institute," "How To Make Your Daughters Culturally Aware and Racially Content During Christmas," "List of Famous Alabama Slaves," "Ingredient list: black girl," "The History Books Have Forgotten Horace King," "Riddled In the Heart of Dixie" - these are the highlights for me personally but just about every poem in this collection is worth rereading.
I'm really excited that I have a job now because that means I can buy this book and have it ON MY VERY OWN SHELF.
I had the pleasure of listening to her read some of her poems when she came to visit my class at FIU. I love her inspiration. My favorite poem from this collection is "Coming of Age".
I received Magic City Gospel as a Goodreads Giveaway and I'm so glad I did, this book of poetry is lovely. Tackling race, the south, racism, literacy, slavery, and a little of everything in between.
Jones paints pictures with precision and punch. From "(I'm Blue) The Gong Gong Song, or America the Beautiful": Those legs - shotguns waiting to be loaded up with bullet beats... Anna Mae is much softer than she / looks from far away. Easier to press a thumb, a fist, into.
From "The First Time I Heard About Slavery": that my skin / was not a modern-day maker of things to come. My fingers had / never bled, so I did not know the pain of picking cotton... I did not understand the curse of soft breasts peeking, / brightly, through a cotton dress.
Be sure to pick up this collection of poetry, you'll be glad you did.
AMAZING. Especially perfect for lovers of poetry and Southern literature and culture. Ashley Jones's style is smooth like the Alabama heat and thick gravy she describes in her poems. Her poems are simple in that anyone can read them, but the content and context are from simple. Jones writes about racial history in Alabama by revealing the immense history within an object or a person, no matter how small or seemingly unknown. Great for a quick read but the poems stick with you long after.
If you're looking for poetry about Black history and/or Alabama that employs stunning musicality and gorgeous narrative technique, Ashley M. Jones's Magic City Gospel is the book for you. This was the perfect read this February for Black History Month.
This book is a love letter to Alabama, but it is a full and honest love that is not afraid to confront and grieve the past and re-imagine the future. As Jericho Brown so aptly says, "This is a poetry book that knows how to be a history book, a religious text, a book of redemption."
Magic City Gospel showcases a jaw-dropping mastery of form. Ashley seriously uses the haiku, abecedarian, prayer, dictionary entry, sonnet, elegy, list poem, golden shovel, refrain, rhyme, recipe, and prose poem forms in a singular book. Effectively. I'm still in awe and have been reading and rereading these poems out loud, over and over, for the past week.
I'm so thankful for Ashley's voice and talent. And I'm SO glad I own a copy of this lifechanging, timelessly relevant, beautiful book of poems by a fellow woman poet of faith. The world needs more poets with the insight and wisdom of Ashley M. Jones.
i’ve been living n farming in rural alabama for bout 1/2 a year and here now a poem about what the dirt tastes like in greensboro and about cooking grits and about how the heat will show you who you are and this is all her life & mind & vivid which is all to say maybe all art is voyeurism but then also, at least right now, so is my life. sometimes surreal and sometimes sharp and funny and always inheriting her world
“Let me wash you in Alabama heat and tell you who you are.” Magic City Gospel is stunning. Anyone who has ever lived in, visited, or heard of Birmingham, Alabama should read this.
It was high time for a reread of this beautiful collection. Still just as wonderful as it was the first go around. If not more. Jones’ writing and love for Alabama feels timeless.
Jones is, now, something more than a new (emerging) voice: she's a growing force to be reckoned with in contemporary American poetry. It's a "post-post-" world we're trying to inhabit (post-post...Modern... Colonial... Atomic...? Digital...? Millennial...?); the poems in Jones's first collection, "Magic City Gospel," provide some vital guideposts and touchstones for us to make our way in this (new) New World. These poems are rooted firmly and unapologetically in the received forms of American history, 20th C. pop culture, and family lore. Sammy Davis Jr -- Black Santa -- Pearl Bailey -- Sally Hemings's lost son -- ...these (and more) are the saints and avatars of Jones's personal mythography (her "good news," as it were), and in poem after poem, Jones uses them to convey a depth of understanding -- personal, political, poetic, spiritual -- that is worthy of a text that will, no doubt, quickly become sacred to anyone seeking insight into the current rough-and-tumble of our times. The real good news, though -- best news of all for those of us who love poetry -- is that this talented young poet has only just begun to prophesy.
In "Magic City Gospel," Ashley M. Jones, an accomplished poet, and educator, delivers a profound collection that resonates deeply with the rich, multifaceted tapestry of Southern Black identity. As an English professor at a historically Black college or university (HBCU), I am particularly drawn to Jones's ability to intertwine historical narratives with contemporary themes, reflecting the lived experiences of African Americans in the South.
Jones's poetry is a masterclass in form and structure, showcasing her adeptness at blending traditional poetic forms with modern sensibilities. Her work is characterized by a rhythmic cadence that echoes the musical traditions of the South, while her use of vivid imagery and metaphor evokes a powerful sense of place and identity. This collection is a testament to Jones's skillful manipulation of language, as she seamlessly weaves personal narratives with broader cultural and historical commentary.
"Magic City Gospel" delves into themes of race, heritage, and resilience, offering a poignant exploration of what it means to be Black in Birmingham, Alabama, a city steeped in civil rights history. Jones's poetry captures the essence of Black life in the South, celebrating its beauty and complexity while confronting the harsh realities of racial injustice. Her work serves as both a tribute and a call to action, urging readers to recognize and honor the ongoing struggle for equality and justice.
For students at an HBCU, "Magic City Gospel" provides an invaluable resource for exploring issues of identity, cultural heritage, and social justice. Jones's poetry invites readers to engage critically with the past and present, fostering a deeper understanding of the African American experience. Her work encourages students to reflect on their own identities and the ways in which they are shaped by history and culture.
Ashley M. Jones's "Magic City Gospel" is a significant contribution to contemporary African American literature, offering a powerful and resonant exploration of Southern Black identity. As an HBCU English professor, I find this collection to be an essential text for understanding the complexities and triumphs of Black life in the South. It is a work that not only educates but also inspires, reminding us of the enduring power of poetry to effect change and celebrate cultural heritage.
I really liked "On Martin Luther King Day, A Noose Is Hung In Blount County" and "Virgin Mary, Re-imagined"
This collection of poems surprised me with its variety of forms. It felt accessible enough, with references to works like A Raisin in the Sun and Their Eyes Were Watching God. Perhaps it comes with being a POC, but consuming content written about struggle feels more at home than some other poetry I've picked up recently (looking at you, Ferlinghetti, thanks Hank). Many of the poems made me feel a certain way, hopefully it was even a tenth of what Jones felt too.
Onto the part of the review I think people should ignore. I don't know shit about poetry but after reading Lerner and Vuong, there's a certain tightness and rhyme / rhythm that I now expect from poetry. I don't necessarily think that it was Jones' goal to follow in that style but I found myself hoping for more of a desire to re-read poems because the sound was so special or the concepts massage my mind in a gratifying way. Reading the last line I wrote makes it sound like I'm a junkie for technicality and that may be my current bias. Anyway I'd highly discount my opinion since I've only just started reading poetry.
After the 60th anniversary of the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing and the opening of Dawoud Bey's "The Birmingham Project" exhibit at the Birmingham Museum of Art I re-read this collection. Originally I got the book because I had just moved into the city and I wanted to read from local poets. I loved it the first time around for Jones' ability to capture the essence of being born and raised in the house, her ability to teach me more state history than I learned in 17 years of schooling so poetically.
This time around, I am reading with the perspective of Birmingham being my home. It's not just a place I live anymore, it is home to me. My community is here. I love this collection so much because it celebrates the joy of sweaty cicada song summers and gives perspective to history white Alabamians refuse to talk about. I cannot remove myself from my southern heritage, and I don't feel the urge to anymore. Alabama cannot remove racism from its roots, but has not overcome its wish to erase or down play the violence that built our cities. Jones respects the state, the city, the people enough to invite us to share in this beauty and heartache of this place & its history. Phenomenal.
Picked this up from a display of poetry books at my library. I’ve been trying to read more poetry in the last year, trying to understand it.
This collection closely reflects the poet’s experience of being African American and living in Alabama. I’ve noticed most poetry collections are akin to snippets of a memoir. Jones writes some in a paragraph format, others line by line. I don’t know enough about poetry form to recognize it—is paragraph format a poem, or brief essay? I took a creative writing class in college that included poetry, but I was terrible at it (my professor agreed, and was relieved that I was by far better at prose). That was decades ago, and I remember nothing about poetry, apparently, beyond that.
Overall I liked the poems, I found them reasonably accessible which isn’t always the case. I particularly liked: “Sonnet for Sopping”
Magic City Gospel is a book of poetry that beautifully articulates growing up in the south and highlights the racial divide still present in today's society. It is interesting that words can have so many meanings. Author Ashley M. Jones was able to pour her heart out on to the paper. Her poems are moving and she shows you what is in her heart. It was a very compelling read and I glad I picked it up.
This is an awesome poetry collection dedicated to the love of Birmingham, AL. Ashley has an amazing way of bringing the imagery before your eyes in a subtle way. I know why this book has received many great reviews.
"I'll make my body a desert if it means I'll be untouched, quietly holy, un-eclipsed by a man and his mouth, his body, the machine of romance and religion, the saline of saliva and an indoor pool."
"You want to know the secret to birthing on your feet? Just squat real low, and when you feel it, honey, let the tide flow." -Sojourner Truth Speaks To Her Daughter, 1843
I asked my local bookstore for "poetry, preferably female, packs a punch" they haven't let me down yet. In this case, bonus points for being local to my area.