Last Week's New Yorker Review: š„ The Weekend Special (October 6)
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.
š„ Fiction
āCoconut Flanā by Catherine Lacey. No Knapps. contents, consulate, country. I quite enjoyed Laceyās newsletter series of 144-word stories, and I appreciate her commitment, here, to writing something rigidly multifaceted ā this is not just a story āaboutā alienation but a gradually intensifying survey of alienation and estrangement in pretty much all its forms. Thatās one possible reading; various others (political, skeptical, second-wave-feminist) suggest themselves while remaining at that same alienated distance. All the thematic numbness and nullity sucks any potential emotional response away; thatās not the only thing one can want from a short story, but in its absence and the absence of any ālessonā or āmessageā, one obviously starts looking very closely at a pieceās formal qualities. Itās there that this falls short ā the writing is odd; arbitrary and inconsistent. Are there failed attempts at dry humor, or is the writing just desiccated? Are we meant to judge Daria? Is she moving towards, or away from, unattachment, and is this meant to be a healthy or unhealthy journey? Why the narrativeās late turn towards (restrained) surreality? I couldnāt begin to guess; things just occur in formless sequence. This isnāt an inept story, and its lumpiness might pass undetected with a few gobs of pathos, something Lacey would be correct to feel aggrieved about. But I donāt know what to make of it. I turned it over, but it hasnāt set.
š„ Weekend Essay
āThe Original Brooklyn Selfie Kingā by David Kamp. One Downey. immigration, image, immediacy. Very, very short yet still feels slightly padded; Fuchās brotherās success in Hollywood is entirely tangential. But the quick glimpse at an ancestorsā self-image, especially as it relates to Judaism and the ever-present nose, is quite fascinating ā of course we imagine, somehow, that our ancestors did not have self-image issues, that this developed all at once along with the front-facing camera, but there he is, mugging for the camera and having his kid photograph him in his underpants (an image straight from Teen Mom, minus, naturally, the thinkpieces). Itās undeniable proof that wherever thereās a reflection, thereās a looker.
š„ Random Pick
āNet Impactā (Online Chronicles) by Julia Ioffe. (April 4, 2011). One Ford. corruption, collapse, consequences. I am definitely no Ioffe fan and pointing out that Navalny is taking massive risks and might end up a martyr is not exactly a called half-court shot. Still, itās undeniably compelling to get a portrait of Navalny before the fifteen years of intermittent, gradually escalating state torture that lead to his death. Itās an open question whether Navalny was wrong about Russiaās desires or whether Putin just solidified his total control over a state that could, under different circumstances, have de-corrupted itself into Navalnyās desired free-market liberal, socially conservative (but surely not as reactionary as Putinās regime āĀ what is?), apparently pro-guns-in-the-house state. Navalny saw a āragtag group of crooksā masquerading as a āsuper-repressive regimeā, and figured he could take the whole thing down. But one shouldnāt underestimate how much damage a ragtag group of crooks can do.
š„ Something Extra
Some cool boundary-pushing art stuff: Firebird, a meticulously animated screen made of car lights, definitely cinema of attractions coded, on Governors Island; Worktable, a craft experience that relies on surprise, will make an object oriented ontologist out of you yet, in Gowanus. I had reservations about both but was ultimately content and stimulated. And if they hit for you, I imagine they really hit.
Sunday Song: