Last Week's New Yorker Review: đ„ The Weekend Special (July 21)
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
âNatural Historyâ by Clare Sestanovich. Two Knapps. confusion, cops, coffee. Sestanovich is an expert chronicler of a specific sort of urban Millennial anomie, in which relational meaning-making falls apart under the stresses of capitalism. I wonder if this story, in which a disillusioned Jesse joins an Extinction Rebellion die-in, is at all related to her recent debut novel, in which a disillusioned Jamie joins the Occupy Wall Street camp. Her handle on the emotional tenor of urban existence is nearly unparalleled; here, she not only nails the general feeling of emergence from a deep state of depression into a less-deep-but-still-omnipresent state of depression, but specifically nails the mental thread of anxiety over âimportanceâ that connects both activism (âis this protest doing anything?â) and emotional disconnection (âwhat am I doing with my life?â). Iâm not quite sure what the coffee-shop scenes are doing here; their political targets seem comparatively clunky (an out-of-towner who wants âthe most normal coffee you haveâ and then idles in his truck), and also⊠no NYC barista named Bix is exclusively using she/her pronouns. Check the button, Jesse!
đ„ Weekend Essay 1
âHow to Save a Dogâ by David W. Brown. Three Downeys. relocation, release, relief. Let no one think that just because I criticize the magazine for returning again and again to the well of mid pet jokes, I am immune to the joys and wonders of our furry friends. This is a very simple essay about finding community through a search for a runaway dog, and it made me cry at the end; you ought not need know more. Brown, adrift in a new city after a divorce, finds purpose first in a cat-trapping group and then the dog search. Yet this could so easily feel overdetermined or corny without Brownâs matter-of-fact humility. Scrim eventually becomes a local celebrity, and his rescue has a few twists and turns, but the appeal of the piece is in Brownâs elegant, unpretentious telling. There is no metaphor; sometimes, some dog just needs found.
đ„ Weekend Essay 2
âTeaching Men Who Will Never Leave Prisonâ by Brooke Allen. No Downeys. discussion, diligence, dignity. The magazine has covered non-guard prison workers a few times before; they even won a Pulitzer for one illustrated piece. This essay doesnât add anything much to the discussion, and itâs too interested in reminding the reader, in sometimes condescending fashion, of how bright prisoners can be. Why are we hearing this story? Allen doesnât have any political point to make; the closing of her program is a bit sad but she presents the closure of the prison as sensible. She ably advocates for prison college programs, but has no position on the system they exist within; she practically thanks the Department of Corrections for not censoring her reading list. Any outsiderâs prison narrative that is this ignorant of the abolition movement is not really worth your time.
đ„ Random Pick
âMiss Westâ by Wolcott Gibbs. (Aug 12, 1944). One Ford. batty, boneless, boudoir. What I wouldnât give to see the first show, a misbegotten Mae West vehicle written by West and featuring her as a bizarro Catherine of Russia that sounds more than a little bit like Cole Escolaâs Mary. (Who knows if Tony McNamara has even heard of it?) The other thin farce features âa young woman who turns out to be very beautiful when she takes off her horn-rimmed spectacles, a theatrical device that began to be considered a little naĂŻve somewhere around 1916.â At the time, of course, that was only twenty-eight years ago; the trope has been played various degrees of straight ever since.
Since Iâve covered Gibbs before, my policy is to select a new piece from the same issue. (Iâd usually skip reviewing the Gibbs, but it was fun.)
âMukluks and Gloggâ by S/Sgt. N.T. Joost Jr. (Aug 12, 1944). Two Fords. craftsmanship, convention, cold. Did you know Alaska was a key North Pacific front in the second World War? I sure didnât, but hereâs Joost to talk about the areaâs indigenous culture as he sees it. He has a great eye for detail, from cinema etiquette (âEvery dramatic scene was mercilessly wrecked by the nativesâ wild hilarityâ) to local fashion (While most of the women âwear long, gingham Mother Hubbard affairs that have foot-deep flounces on the bottom and capacious hoods at the topâ, some of the younger ones âhave rebelled against this attire. Their revolt has taken the form of wearing fascinators, slacks, and beach pajamas straight from the Sears Roebuck catalogue.â) Most interesting is Joostâs take on the local art, which has âbecome cheapenedâ by catering to ââcuteââ touristic whims â âthe old native craftsmanship has largely disappeared.â That this was a random soldierâs take in 1944, before Dubuffet had even coined the term art brut, really speaks to the importance of the firsthand account â and, really, the importance of journalism. Even in times of war, even when youâre in the fight, reporting on things other than that war can reveal a bigger picture.
đ„ Something Extra
A fun Instagram discovery: I randomly looked up Jody Avirgan because I was thinking about a wonderful tweet thread he did a few years ago, riding the longest possible subway route, and wondered what he was up to. What heâs up to may be of interest to this newsletterâs readers: His Instagram has an ongoing and delightful feature in which he attempts to guess the oft-punny name of the cover art for each issue of the magazine. Highly recommended.
Sunday Song: