Last Week's New Yorker Review: đ„ The Weekend Special (September 29)
The Weekend Special
Pieces are given up to three Knapps (for fiction), Downeys (for essays), or Fords (for random picks). As with restaurant stars, even one Knapp, Downey, or Ford indicates a generally positive review.
đ„ Fiction
âUnreasonableâ by Rivka Galchen. Two Knapps. hive, happy, Hitler. The first of these stories-inspired-by-a-story-from-the-archives where the inspiration is both formal and thematic, a challenge Galchen embarks upon avidly and with good cheer. The narrator is a familiar type â the anxious, well-meaning mother â but all too rare as a first-person protagonist. Galchen is kind to her, and the story, like the Carver that inspired it, is a can-this-day-get-worse narrative flipped on its head by an emotional arc that runs contrary to the parade of travails. (Call it A Trivial Woman.) Thereâs plenty of humor here, enough to disguise a structure that might otherwise feel overdetermined. Galchenâs control of tone is perhaps a bit slack â the scene in class is hard to follow and more annoying than funny, the narratorâs nervous-protective mode when faced with the daughterâs tracking device is, unfortunately, believable, but so familiarly unlikable (another academic descends into blithe cruelty, rather than developing a backbone, as soon as the stakes are vaguely personal!) that it curdles all thatâs come before a bit. Curds and honey she shall eat, that she may know to refuse the evil and choose the good.
đ„ Weekend Essay
âWhat Itâs Like to Get Really, Really Highâ by Charles Bethea. No Downeys. peak, pedal, perverse. I was hoping he would do acid while mountain climbing. But no, this is a long, pretty dull what-I-did-on-vacation anecdote about climbing a volcano that eventually (halfway through) segues into a piece about Betheaâs agita over having taken an over-the-counter altitude sickness med during that climb, which may or may not have stripped the experience of some of its authenticity. Look, climbing Everest is fucked and the technology Bethea presents as the bottom of this supposedly slippery slope â ultraexpensive xenon gas treatments to acclimate the body ahead of time â is an absurd novelty. But the reason that experience denies those rich dudes the majesty of actually doing a hard thing is not because theyâre taking a drug, but because no internal limit can really be faced under conditions of self-optimization. You canât feed the ego to death. Before descending into a seriously brainless sidetrack into right-wing steroid sports, Bethea gets some actual wisdom from the most famous advocate for unassisted hiking, who is, despite Betheaâs slightly frantic urging, determinedly non-doctrinaire. Personally, though, I donât really get why manly men always have to face the unknown within them in remote and dangerous places â if itâs not secretly a touristic activity, canât you just take the bus to Rockland County and walk back and forth until you feel faint?1
đ„ Random Pick
âAntipathiesâ (Annals of Medicine) by Berton RouechĂ©. (Mar 13, 1978). Two Fords. rash, reaction, remarkable. These columns, by the master of the medical mystery, inspired House and its various progeny; as it turns out, stripping the tale of the soap operatic contrivance renders it no less compelling. RouechĂ© turns from background information to a monologue theoretically straight from the doctor â though presumably fussed with, as the prose style remains exactly the same â as a patient presents a strange treatment resistant allergy. Things develop from there; because this is a mystery, I wonât spoil it. Is the conclusion especially compelling? Not really. Would they make a T.V. episode out of this one? Not without considerable fluffing. But itâs remarkably compelling in its presentation of clear-headed problem solving â no neurosis or pain-pill addiction required.
đ„ Something Extra
Caught three absolutely amazing concerts at Roulette in the span of a week: John Zornâs Cobra, always a blast; trio Fieldwork (Tyshawn Sorey, Vijay Iyer, Steve Lehman) were intensely locked in; and Mary Halvorsonâs latest octet were best of all, especially highlighting extraordinary vibraphonist Patricia Brennan, whoâs playing at Roulette with her own ten piece on December 1 â not to be missed.
Sunday Song:
Iâm turning into Gersh Kuntzman. â©