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The Study of Human Life
The Study of Human Life
The Study of Human Life
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The Study of Human Life

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Winner of the Paterson Poetry Prize, and longlisted for the Griffin Prize and the Massachusetts Book Award

An acclaimed poet further extends his range into the realm of speculative fiction, while addressing issues as varied as abolition, Black ecological consciousness, and the boundless promise of parenthood

Featuring the novella “The Book of Mycah,” soon to be adapted by Lena Waithe’s Hillman Grad Productions & Warner Bros. TV


Across three sequences, Joshua Bennett’s new book recalls and reimagines social worlds almost but not entirely lost, all while gesturing toward the ones we are building even now, in the midst of a state of emergency, together. Bennett opens with a set of autobiographical poems that deal with themes of family, life, death, vulnerability, and the joys and dreams of youth. The central section, “The Book of Mycah,” features an alternate history where Malcolm X is resurrected from the dead, as is a young black man shot by the police some fifty years later in Brooklyn. The final section of The Study of Human Life are poems that Bennett has written about fatherhood, on the heels of his own first child being born last fall.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherPenguin Books
Release dateSep 20, 2022
ISBN9780525508328
Author

Joshua Bennett

Dr. Joshua Bennett is the author of The Sobbing School (Penguin, 2016) - which was a National Poetry Series selection and a finalist for an NAACP Image Award. He is also the author of Being Property Once Myself (Harvard University Press, 2020), Owed (Penguin, 2020), The Study of Human Life (Penguin, 2022) and Spoken Word: A Cultural History, which is forthcoming from Knopf. He has received fellowships and awards from the Guggenheim Foundation, the Whiting Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Society of Fellows at Harvard University. He is a Professor of English at Dartmouth College.

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    Book preview

    The Study of Human Life - Joshua Bennett

    Cover for The Study of Human Life, Author, Joshua Bennett

    ALSO BY JOSHUA BENNETT

    POETRY

    The Sobbing School

    Owed

    NONFICTION

    Being Property Once Myself: Blackness and the End of Man

    Spoken Word: A Cultural History

    Book Title, The Study of Human Life, Author, Joshua Bennett, Imprint, Penguin Books

    PENGUIN BOOKS

    An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

    penguinrandomhouse.com

    Copyright © 2022 by Joshua Bennett

    Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

    Sunday Afternoon from Magic City © 1992 by Yusef Komunyakaa. Published by Wesleyan University Press. Used by permission.

    This page constitutes an extension of this copyright page.

    library of congress cataloging-in-publication data

    Names: Bennett, Joshua (Poet), author.

    Title: The study of human life / Joshua Bennett.

    Description: [New York] : Penguin Books, [2022] | Series: Penguin poets Identifiers: LCCN 2022006597 | ISBN 9780143136828 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9780525508328 (ebook)

    Subjects: LCGFT: Novels. | Poetry.

    Classification: LCC PS3602.E664483 S78 2022 | DDC 813/.6—dc23/eng/20220224

    LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022006597

    Cover design: Lynn Buckley

    Cover photograph: Justin Hardiman

    Designed by Alexis Farabaugh, adapted for ebook by Estelle Malmed

    pid_prh_6.0_148350563_c0_r0

    for my family

    Acknowledgments

    Sincerest thanks to the following journals for publishing earlier versions of the work featured in this collection:

    Academy of American Poets: Dad Poem (Ultrasound #2)

    Colorado Review: Dad Poem (We play Cam’Ron at eleven) and Trash (The Knicks were trash)

    The Kenyon Review: Trash (All the men I loved were dead)

    Poetry: The Book of Mycah

    Poetry Daily: Trash (All the men I loved were dead)

    Puerto del Sol: Trash (Saturdays, it was my job to pick the bones)

    The Southern Review: Trash (Abolition), Trash (I bought a house by the trees), and Trash (The American Negro is an invention)

    The Wall Street Journal: Dad Poem (No visitors allowed)

    The Yale Review: Dad Poem (The New Temporality) and Dad Poem (Your doula’s name is Perpetual)

    Thank you to the family that raised me: my late grandmother, Charlotte Elizabeth Ballard; my aunts and uncles; my big sister; and my mother and father, who taught me that strength was inextricably tied to gentleness. That poems, like all good things, were meant to be shared.

    Thank you to my editor, Paul Slovak, for his keen eye and willingness to try something new with me every time we put one of these together. Thank you to my Langston’s Legacy family for workshopping several of the poems in this manuscript in their earliest forms: Andrea Bossi, Danielle Georges, Florence Ladd, Gavin Moses, and Patrick Sylvain. Thank you to my friends, mentors, colleagues, and collaborators, for your calls, your work, your camaraderie and laughter, especially during these harrowing last couple of years: Thomas Alston, Charlotte Bacon, Jamil Baldwin, Cory Benjamin, Everett Aaron Benjamin, Kyle Brooks, Jamall Calloway, Devin Chamberlain, Daniel Claro, Ben Crossan, Tongo Eisen-Martin, Mary C. Fuller, Aracelis Girmay, Jarvis Givens, Bill Gleason, Carlos Andrés Gómez, Terrance Hayes, R.A. Judy, Susan Lambe-Sariñana, Carvens Lissaint, Jesse McCarthy, Roshad Meeks, Ernie Mitchell, Wesley Morris, Timothy Pantoja, Gregory Pardlo, Imani Perry, Samora Pinderhughes, Elaine Scarry, Christina Sharpe, Tracy K. Smith, Josef Sorett, Matthew Spellberg, Brandon Terry, Daniella Toosie-Watson, and Simone White.

    Thank you to the Whiting Foundation, the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation, the Society of Fellows at Harvard University, and the Department of English and Creative Writing at Dartmouth College for the various forms of institutional support that helped make this manuscript possible.

    And thank you to my wife and son, Pam and August Galileo: You are my life. Thank you for making each day miraculous.

    Contents

    TRASH

    THE BOOK OF MYCAH

    DAD POEM

    How do you provide for the Study of Human Life?

    —June Jordan

    Where life is precious, life is precious.

    —Ruth Wilson Gilmore

    Trash

    What critics throw away I love the more;

    I love to stoop and look among the weeds,

    To find a flower I never knew before

    —John Clare

    One man’s waste is another man’s soap

    Son’s fan base know the brother man’s dope

    —MF DOOM

    I knew life

    Started from where I stood in the dark,

    Looking out into the light,

    & that sometimes I could see

    Everything through nothing.

    —Yusef Komunyakaa

    I

    All the men I loved were dead

    -beats by birthright or so the legend

    went. The ledger said three

    out of every four of us were

    destined for a cell or lead

    shells flitting like comets

    through our heads. As a boy,

    my mother made me write

    & sign contracts to express

    the worthlessness of a man’s

    word. Just like your father,

    she said, whenever I would lie,

    or otherwise warp the historical

    record to get my way. Even then,

    I knew the link between me

    & the old man was pure

    negation, bad habits, some awful

    hyphen filled with blood. I have half

    my father’s face & not a measure of his flair

    for the dramatic. Never once

    have I prayed & had another man’s wife

    wail in return. Both burden & blessing alike,

    it seemed, this beauty he carried

    like a dead doe. No one called him Father

    of the Year. But come wintertime, he would wash

    & cocoa butter us until our curls shone like lodestone,

    bodies wrapped in three layers

    of cloth just to keep December’s iron

    bite at bay. And who would have thought

    to thank him then? Or else turn

    & expunge the record, given all we know

    now of war & its unquantifiable cost,

    the way living through everyone around you

    dying kills something elemental, ancient.

    At a

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