May 2018: You Have Named The Pigeon Perfectly

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Gloria Stoll Karn, “[Woman and bird],” watercolor and gouache on board, 22 1/2” x 22 1/4” (© Gloria Stoll Karn) via Hyperallergic

When you say to me, “I hate pigeons,” I want to ask you who else do you hate. It makes me suspicious. I once met a girl who was so proud to have hit such a bird on her bicycle, I swear, I thought that it was me she hit. I felt her handlebars in my stomach and now it is your job to feel it also. The pigeons are birds, they are doves. They are the nature of the city and the ones who no one loves. 

“Pigeon Manifesto” by Michelle Tea, from her forthcoming collection (but written in 2004), via The Rumpus. I liked it so much, I cut it up and used it as a monologue in my acting class at the Boston Center for Adult Education.

Bonus bird art (with an inspiring backstory, if you click):

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Photo by Meiko Takechi Arquillos for her and Wendy’s Snyder’s article, “How Japanese Women At Internment Camp Made Their Clothes Their Own,” via Angry Asian Man

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The aspect of reflection is present in every piece in the gallery, suggesting that your touch would leave earth-shattering fingerprints, or send ripples radiating over the surface. It’s enough to make you want to step lightly, to glide through their coolness in the garden-level gallery. But the message isn’t too slippery to grasp, not when [Lidzie] Alvisa is literally spelling out “EGO” and “REFLECTION” on her mirrors, or [Donis] Llago is painting some of the world’s most famous buildings. I didn’t expect to have such a visceral reaction to a show that appears, on its slick surface, to be so understated.

From my review of “Transparent?” at A R E A, featuring two Cuban artists who are also a couple. The curator, David Guerra, shared the review with them, and told me that one said “this makes me want to work endlessly.” So, it was a good month for art feelings.

Speaking of:

It is rare for a group exhibition as hip as “The Shaman Show” to feel so warm. Maybe it’s because iartcolony is the curators’ home – a building, they will tell you, with a surprising link to Shamanism. But it’s probably because their careful commissioning of new works has a specific goal: “to cure the village of jealousy and envy.”

That’s about a third of my 1,000-character review of The Shaman Show at iart colony in Rockport, my first review for Delicious Line. Jill and Bob are totally lovely, and the show has been extended through July 9.

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“The Flick” by Annie Baker
Stage play, 200 pages
2014

I missed “The Flick,” Annie Baker’s play about workers in failing movie theater, when it played in Boston in 2013, although I did get to see all three of her Vermont plays in 2010 (and reviewed “Body Awareness” for Blast Magazine). “The Flick” went on the win the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 2014, despite being controversially boring to many NYC audience members. This wasn’t surprising to me, having seen the Vermont plays: “Body Awareness” and “Circle Mirror Transformation” are fairly conventional in their dialogue and pacing, but Baker wields silence like a pressure-washer in “The Aliens.” It reminds me of what Christian Cruz said in the 2017 Experimental Action panel in Houston: “the duration is the medium.” Apparently these audience members didn’t get the memo.

That said, one NYT commenter did question whether the Pulitzer committee just read the play, and didn’t see it performed—I hope not, because reading it, as I did this month, is a drastically different experience. You can skim over the long sections where the characters sweep popcorn in silence, instead of squirming in your seat, trying desperately not to check your phone in the darkness. But forget that—the play is great, and, as most plays are, a fast read. Read this interview with Annie first (and note how much she hates “Body Awareness,” which I would call the most conventional of her Vermont plays) to get in the mood.

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“The Plague” by PRAXIS Stage at Dorchester Art Project
Adapted from “La Peste” by Albert Camus
Directed by Daniel Boudreau

“The Plague” is another “endurance” performance of sorts, with the small cast barely addressing each other. They instead recount events to the audience, sometimes in unison speeches. A slightly boring affair, but important message—I was impressed with the actors, especially Dayenne C. Byron Walters as Dr. Rieux.

PRAXIS formed after the 2016 election “with the goals of linking theater with activism and producing plays that enter contemporary political crisis points and ongoing cultural conversations,” and they certainly succeeded in doing that in this production. I’m looking forward to seeing what these talented company members do next.

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“Cold Blood” by Astragales at ArtsEmerson
Directed by Michèle Anne De Mey and Jaco Van Dormael

What to say about this—essentially it’s a bunch of mini-sets on a mostly dark stage with a bunch of cameras wheeling around, projecting the close up image on a screen hanging sort of in front of the cast. So, the screen is at the forefront, but you can still see the production “crew” producing the effects. The characters onscreen are, for the most part, the actors’ hands.

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So, this is what we see on the screen, while simultaneously seeing the crew. Photo via ArtsEmerson

There’s a haunting soundtrack, too, and a narrator detailing the course of eight different deaths. The book is drippingly French, dramatic with some misogynistic undertones in places (and why a cannibal, why), but I was so fascinated by the production value and practical effects that I barely cared. Take a look for the spectacle, if they come to your city.

 

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I can’t let this month pass without noting how much I loved Kitty Drexel’s review of the Huntington’s production of Caryl Churchill’s play “Top Girls” (which I didn’t see). The quick pivots remind me of Dorothy Parker’s theater reviews (not Dorothy-Parker-as-meme), if Dorothy Parker were an internet-literate disabled activist.

Highlights (links hers):

Congrats to the Huntington for finally get that permanent ramp set up….

Sure, we can try to have it all now, but the 80’s were unconscionably cruel to women who desired a career and a family. PR/Marketing still pits women against each other. There was no having at all. There was only Zuul.… 

Marlene (Carmen Zilles) is traditionally cast with a white women because England is so white that humans go there to complete the bleaching process… But, times are changing and today’s London is much more diverse. Zilles is such a compelling actress; it must have been difficult not to cast her.

The extra-special highlight came later in the evening: listening to old, white men make noises of discomfort during the emotional third act when Churchill’s sexual politics stop being nice and start getting real…. 

The cheap seats will watch backs, and lose some of the action but that’s what you get for being cheap….

New England is home to many talented actors. The Huntington hired only one of them for this production. Please consider this information when purchasing tickets.

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I feel these are the audience’s stories that I am percolating and pushing back out at them, but in a way that makes you question your own prejudice and perception and role in this society, in this world. Theatre is deeply political for me. Drama has got to mean something, it’s got to do something to you, it’s got to make you think.

—Irish playwright Deidre Kinahan in a fun interview for HowlRound

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No work of art, no matter how incisive, beautiful, uncomfortable or representative, needs to exist. Yet the internet — the same force that has increased awareness of social-justice movements — has hyperbolized all entreaties to our fragmented attention spans. It’s now as easy to see all the incredible and twisted ways the world causes suffering as it is to waste a couple hours scrolling through Twitter. The concerned citizen’s natural response is to prioritize. It’s why so many outlets seem to invoke moral outrage as a growth strategy — and why being told what you need to read or watch starts to be appealing.

“What Do We Mean When We Call Art ‘Necessary’?” by Lauren Oyler for the New York Times. A really fantastic piece, best coupled with Beth Pickens’ “Your Art Will Save Your Life.” It made me wonder if I’ve called something “necessary” in a review… google wouldn’t tell me. But I’ll be conscious of it going forward.

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Ours wasn’t just the righteous satisfaction of justice finally served, or even the hot joy of revenge. For sure, there was real pleasure in the prospect of seeing bad men suffer. But there was also another, less flattering kind of enjoyment, floating right beneath the waterline of consciousness. For all the great to-do, all the scandal and vindication, there were certain stars of film and televisionjust a select few, we told ourselves, a special clubwhom, in a week or month or two, once the fires were out, we would find it in our hearts to forgive. That’s a lie, actually. We wouldn’t forgive them. But we also wouldn’t stop watching their shows.

“Bad TV” by Andrea Long Chu for N+1. A long, extremely human take on #MeToo.

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A story about a bickering couple does not threaten the institution of marriage. Heart of Darkness might disapprove of colonialism, but it’s not an attack on empire itself. The book deals in strict dualities and reinforces the superiority of Western culture and ideas. Africa, its jungle, is what blackens Kurtz’s heart, and just in case you start to feel uncomfortable because you find yourself identifying with him, the supposed bad apple—the Lynndie En­gland of nineteenth-century Europe—Marlow, the novel’s cordon sanitaire, is there to make you feel better. 

“Comforting Myths” by Rabih Alameddine for Harper’s, exploring who gets to tell stories and who truly threatens the status quo.

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Please peruse this brutal, beautifully-photographed parade of the makeshift gas masks of Gaza.

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Image tweeted by Yousef Munayyer

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In 1922, [Man] Ray took ​Gertrude Stein and Picasso’s Portrait, which shows her seated perpendicular to Picasso’s portrait of her, with the painted Stein regarding the real one…. Stein had granted Ray the exclusive right to photograph her, but this arrangement—and their friendship—ended in 1930, when Ray billed her for his services. That base mercenary request was out of place in the prestige economy. “My dear Man Ray,” Stein wrote. “We are all hard up, but don’t be silly about it.”

“Gertrude Stein’s Mutual Portraiture Society” by Anne Diebel for the Paris Review. I’m always up for a reference to Man Ray being a clod (more later on why I am slogging through his autobiography, ugh), but it does make me consider how we barter as artists now, particularly from writer to artist. I wonder what a literary portrait would look like now… or is a literary portrait just a positive review? An homage through poetry? And what’s the exchange rate on those items?

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As women, we slowly learn, the greatest thing we are expected to do with our lives is love and be loved in return. No matter what else we might want to do, this is the height to which we’re expected to aspire. Men who love are enlightened beings, heroes of musicals. Women who love are just doing their job, what we were born to do. And so we hit the rose quartz ceiling.

“The Rose Quartz Ceiling: When It Comes To Love, Men Are Praised For What Women Are Simply Expected To Give” by Jaya Saxena for Catapult. Incidentally, I just bought tickets to see the new Moulin Rouge musical in July, for the exact reasons laid out in the intro.

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“As a faith leader, my moral duty is to speak in support of a woman’s sacred and constitutional right to make decisions for herself,” [says Reverend Millie Peters]. “Christian scripture tells of Jesus doing good and never judging nor shaming anyone. We are compassionate people who respect human dignity, and our responsibility is to speak for quality healthcare; a basic religious value.”

“The Religious Coalition Blessing Abortion Clinics Across America” by Caroline Kent for Broadly

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The Hot Spring at Lake Tecopa is an impermanent work.

The land is not the setting for the work but a part of the work.

A spring is not a pool but a process.

Heat is the method by which the water pulls us back into our bodies.

“Naked in Death Valley” by Claire Vaye Watkins in a non-fiction piece for Guernica. I should have known it was her, having read “Gold Fame Citrus.” She has a stake in this landscape.

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A quick poetry recommendation: “So Long The Sky” by Mary Kovaleski Byrnes. Mary is a poetic force of nature in the Emerson community and beyond — she was actually the grad student assigned to call me when I was offered a fellowship, to try to convince me to attend. Obviously, it worked. She was one of the first guests on my radio show way back when, and co-founded EmersonWRITES, where I taught playwriting. Now her first book is out, and it’s wonderful, traversing the world and family histories with an un-boring soft touch.

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Russ Tamblyn joined Twitter and I love it:

 

April 2017: The Sheer Uncertainty of the Whole Enterprise

 

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Illustration by Amy Jean Porter via The Awl

 

2 criticism crash courses, 6 thoughts on “Beauty and the Beast,” 2 musicals, 1 validation of my Luddite leanings, 3 “failed” “feminist” startups, 1 re-appropriated Bible verse, 1 professor I wish I’d taken classes with, 2 novels

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Two specific “criticism” events this month, very different from each other: a lecture at DiverseWorks by Claudia La Rocco—poet, artist, critic and editor-in-chief of SF MoMA’s Open Space—and a day-long workshop at WriteSpace about writing food and restaurant reviews with Houstonia’s managing editor, Katharine Shilcutt.

I’m thinking of these two events in tandem, even though they work at cross purposes on the surface level: one posits thoughtful criticism as an art that is an antidote to noise, the other is more “service journalism” than art. The two events were good complements to each other in reminding me of the power of good criticism—and considering how much to insert the self into a review or response.

I only have scattered notes from Claudia La Rocco’s lecture, but one exercise stands out: we watched a performance by Lime Rickey International, and she asked us to take notes and review it as it unfolded. Then, near the end of the talk, she read her own observations, as thoughtful and lyrical as one would expect from a poet. Between this and the Experimental Action panel in February, I feel much more prepared to review performance art.

Criticism is a container for people’s confusion
Susan Sontag: rules of taste enforce structures of power
The moral clarity of the immature
There are worse things than being obvious
Practice criticism (remain present and stay open) 
We owe criticism attention and thought
When reviewing or responding to performance art: what does it do to your body? 
David Foster Wallace: To be literate is to feel stupid all the time

What can we do to reduce the noise of social media and instant gratification?

We could do the painstaking work of looking/listening/deepening our thinking

We could create a worthy container for expansive discourse

I didn’t leave this lecture thinking “gee, the next logical step from here is to write restaurant reviews.” I’ve never really had a desire to write them, but I love the day-long workshop format that WriteSpace offers, and I was curious. The day included a history of food reviews (did you know restaurants didn’t really exist before the French Revolution, when all the cooks were put out of work?), reading good and bad examples of reviews, taste testing paired with writing exercises, going out to lunch, and then writing a review of that lunch in the afternoon. I went to the Australian-themed Platypus Brewery and got to gleefully use a lot of bad Australia puns in the review (and the meat pies were DELICIOUS). The other three women in the class were good writers, and Katharine was a totally delightful teacher who graciously took us through an entire issue of Houstonia pointing out how to best pitch each section.

Common threads: listen, educate yourself, and always remember that there are worse things than being obvious.

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After the Women’s March in January, I ducked into a movie theater and watched a Sailor Moon movie. After the Tax Day March on April 15, I did the same with the new live action version of “Beauty and the Beast,” the 1992 animated version of which is probably my favorite Disney movie. I think it’s interesting that I went to see these two Romantic, female-centric films right after both of these marches, but why write about that when I could just list my super hot takes?

  1. Emma Watson is great and all, but if Dan Stevens of “Downton Abbey” fame is going to play the beast, Lady Mary should have been Belle. I don’t care if she doesn’t pass for a teenager. In fact, the story would probably be better if Belle had been written a tad more spinstery, and at 35, [totally gorgeous] Michelle Dockery would have been considered that in Renaissance France. “Spinster Belle” would have a more stern authority. Then maybe Belle and the beast would have actually had chemistry, and all of us who were callously [willingly] sucked into “Downton Abbey” could get some payback for Matthew’s clumsy car crash exit.
  2. Why is the librarian in Belle’s village relatively young and attractive? Wouldn’t she have just married him, since he obviously gets her?
  3. Remaking beloved animated classics into live action versions that repeat the script and songs verbatim totally sucks the joy out of the entire endeavor.
  4. The new songs I could take or leave, but I understand why they were added. The emphasis on this sentimental angle isn’t what I would have gone for (see point about “Spinster Belle”) but it was sweet to behold and very Disney.
  5. The credits rolled with French titles, with the English translations artlessly underneath. JUST COMMIT TO ONE ARTISTIC CHOICE, DISNEY. It’s not like we’re still saying “freedom fries.”

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In other “your faves are problematic” news, I read this interview at The Interval with Pam McKinnon, director of the new “Amélie” musical, based on the 2001 film that I still watch sometimes when I’m depressed. The interview is fantastic, but I twitched at some particular language in the intro:

“Netflix describes [the character of Amélie] as impish; a precursor to the manic pixie dream girl, bathed in the same French aesthetic that makes Americans buy books like French Women Don’t Get Fat. How does one turn a très male gaze film into a musical in 2017?”

The twitching is almost certainly because of my teenage attachment to the film (so badass watching it in French class!), but it that phrasing still made it feel like feminist buzzword clickbait. It wasn’t so much as the misuse of the term “manic pixie dream girl” (which the internet shamelessly applies to all cutesy young women even when they’re the protagonist, which makes the term invalid) that irked me as “male gaze.” McKinnon goes on to say that since they barely “let” Amélie speak in the film, even though she’s the main character, she’s being subjugated.

I understand fatigue in terms of the type of women we see in films (and McKinnon was a grown woman when she saw it, while I was a high school student), but here, a shy feminine person is the lead, and it’s hard to see Amélie as being created for male pleasure: she’s dressed in cardigans and combat boots for most of the film, she eschews sex as boring, and she is the pursuer, not the pursued. Maybe it’s just because she’s attractive (in a fiendishly aesthetic film)? Or are McKinnon and the interviewer viewing the fact that she’s shy and doesn’t talk much as a reflection of men’s desires for women to shut up? I’m grasping here.

Amélie is 23 years old—she’s naive, but she takes action, even if it’s twee action that gets her mislabeled as a manic pixie dream girl. It would have been a shitty characterization if Nino or another male character had been the lead and she only existed to help them accomplish their goals, but that wasn’t the case. I know that I’m hauling my adolescent baggage in my critique, but I wish we could recognize different types of heroines without labeling them as manic pixie dream girls.

Defensive griping aside, the musical version is sounding better and better. After the initial disappointment that Yann Tiersen’s soundtrack wouldn’t be included, McKinnon’s account of the creative process has me all excited again.

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Speaking of musicals:

“My family’s story isn’t one that you would have seen in a Hollywood movie or a Broadway musical. For one, it doesn’t conform to stereotypes that white executives and producers have about us. There are no silent and sexualized Asian women. There are no conniving and emasculated Asian men. And there are no white men.

Instead there’s a South Vietnamese English-teacher-turned-soldier, my father, fighting the Viet Cong. He meets a South Vietnamese woman, my mother. They fall in love and exchange letters for two years, before he travels 200 miles, from Qui Nhơn to Đà Lạt, to ask for her hand. There is a turning point, April 30, 1975. The teacher is imprisoned. His wife, now a mother of two, is left alone to support her family.

You won’t see this love story on Broadway. Instead, what you will see is Miss Saigon.”

— Diep Tran at American Theatre: “I Am Miss Saigon, and I Hate It”

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“I miss the days when the most stressful thing about popularity was the sheer uncertainty of the whole enterprise. Back when popularity was cool and aloof, identifiable only by the feelings of desire, envy, and yearning experienced by those who looked upon it. Today, there is no mystery. The metrics of popularity are pervasive and unavoidable. News stories, video clips, music playlists — everything comes with view counts, share counts, and crowdsourced ratings.”

— Maureen O’Connor at The Cut: “Remember When Popularity Was Cool? Now It’s Just Work”

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“It’s very rare that the person who starts a company in their garage or dorm room is equipped to lead it when it has a thousand employees or $150M in revenue. Those are radically different skill sets. So, my purpose here is to criticize the venture capital model for sometimes destroying, as the cost of doing business, perfectly viable, sustainable, and beloved businesses. But also to say that bigger and faster are not always better.”

— Jen Dziura of Get Bullish: “The ‘Failure’ of Feminist Companies is Due to What, Exactly?”

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“In Christian circles, “worldly” is shorthand for being of the world. In Romans 12:2 the apostle Paul encourages Christians not to ‘conform to the patterns of this world, but to be transformed by the renewing of your mind.’ Many Christians interpret this invective as a call to eschew popular culture…. Engaging in popular culture, we were told, was like shaking hands with someone who has a cold—just by being near them, you risk exposure. And for the faithful, it’s not your immune system at risk, it’s your mortal soul.”

— Lyz Lenz at Hazlitt: “Lead Me On.” Romans 12:2 was always my favorite Bible verse as a kid, but because I purposefully mangled it to mean “outcasts are cool! I prefer to read” instead of how the patriarchs actually mean it. This essay, which pivots on Amy Grant’s fall from grace in the Christian music industry, is a long but worthwhile read.

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“Poetry is political. Period. It has often been remarked that the so-called ‘apolitical’ poem, the objet d’art, is of course political in its acceptance of the status quo. But while I agree with that view, that’s not quite what I’m getting at here. I believe poetry is political because a poet is always both working with and straining against language.”

— Richard Hoffman at AGNI: “Poetry is Dissent”

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“You Too Can Have A Body Like Mine” by Alexandra Kleeman
Novel
Harper Perennial, 2015

I’ve been seeing great reviews of this book for more than a year, and finally picked it up. The narrative follows A, a woman who is roommates with a woman B and dating a man named C. B is creepily trying to mimic and transform herself into A, while C is addicted to pornography and all the characters are addicted to television. This is a special kind of dystopia that already seems like it could be real: C wants him and A to be contestants on a game show called “That’s My Partner!” in which couples try to identify their romantic partners through a series of unsettling challenges; dads, specifically, are disappearing; it’s not uncommon to see bedsheet-wearing families; and “Wallys,” helpful associates at the local superstore who are fully obscured by foam heads, have a very specific workplace code of conduct.

A and B are also addicted to their eating disorder, which is not named but prevalent as it describes their endless search for the right food, and how they end up eating only oranges and popsicles (the reason why this was another not-great “before bed” book for me). The “right food,” for A, is Kandy Kakes. Her description of the commercials featuring Kandy Kat, who desperately wants the Kakes but can never reach them, like Tom chasing Jerry, are the most engaging part of the book. A as Kandy Kat is the conceit. Except what she’s really chasing is far more elusive, muddled by the pervasive static of this recognizable dystopia.

While the story was unpredictable, “a female fight club,” as blurbed by Vogue, it is not. I love Kleeman’s sentences, but the progression of the narrative and meditative tone made the novel feel more like a short story to me. I didn’t find the ending particularly satisfying—but A can’t be satisfied, so why should the reader?

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“The Wangs Vs. The World” by Jade Chang
Novel
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2016

Jade Chang writes the most painfully real failing stand-up routines I’ve ever read in a novel. They are performed by Andrew Wang, the middle Wang child who, at 21 years old, has been pulled out of college by his father’s sudden bankruptcy. The story revolves around the entire Wang family: Charles, the Taiwanese patriarch who is sure there is family land waiting for him in China; Barbra, his childhood classmate and second wife; Saina, Charles’ oldest daughter, a stylish but disgraced artist who has bought a big old house in the Hudson Valley; the aforementioned Andrew, who is also a virgin (by noble choice!); and Grace, the youngest daughter, a 16-year-old fashion blogger who was sent to, and abruptly removed from, boarding school.

When the incredibly rich Wangs realize Charles has lost all their money in a bad business deal, they pack up an old station wagon and drive from L.A. to Saina’s house in upstate New York. Most of the book is about the journey, and the diversion from character to character will make a smooth transition to a Netflix series, if Chang decides to go that route (she lives in L.A. so let’s guess yes). The parts of the book that do not describe bad stand-up routines (most of it) are also excellent. A funny, sly and tender read.

 

 

October 2016: The Old Divination Standby

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“Aries” by Eugenia Loli, from her new zodiac collection. Really kind of her to use a picture that looks just like my grandma in the 60s for my astrological sign.

1 (unsettling) art review, 3 interviews, 1 exaggerated headline, 1 Screwtape musing, 1 accidental feminist classic, 1 of many similarities between me and Ron Weasley, 1 report from Australia, 2 Halloween costumes

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Black & White, the KKK, and the Enduring Banality of Evil: “The Beginning is Near (Part 1)” by Vincent Valdez
October issue of Aeqai (9-minute read)

“The City I” by Vincent Valdez

Vincent Valdez’s first solo show in 10 years was phenomenally eerie, important and complex. The unsettling centerpiece is more than 30 feet long and six feet high, and not one, but TWO middle-aged couples skittered in and out nervously while I was at the gallery.

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America has a long and proud tradition of taking in individuals and families who are fleeing violence and persecution, including my parents. Houston has always played a significant role in resettling refugees. When a city takes in victims of tragedy, it demonstrates to the world its compassion and humanity. Houston should continue to set an example for the country and the world.

–Teresa Messer, immigration attorney. Her parents were refugees of the Vietnam War, and now she serves immigrants and refugees in her home city.

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“Quiet leadership” is something I learned to emphasize during the M.A., or the idea that you can lead by example. You don’t always have to be that extrovert leading the charge — that’s not what leadership is all of the time. Leadership is listening, assessing, finding the people and matching them to their strengths, and you can only do that by listening and assessing.

–Alyson Landry, Professional Communications instructor at Houston’s High School for the Performing and Visual Arts. I wish I’d been able to take her class in high school!

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My responsibilities of my new appointment is to manage the day-to-day operations of critical access hospital that serves a community of 12,000 Native Americans and Alaskan Natives in the Cass Lake Minnesota area. My goals are to collaborate with local tribes to foster a relationship of cooperation.

–Dr. Robert Brady Malone, who simultaneously earned an M.B.A. and his doctorate in medicine, and is now the CEO of Cass Lake Hospital in Minnesota. I conducted this interview before the protest at Standing Rock was widely visible — I would have liked to ask him about how it affects his constituents, if at all.

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Favorite exaggerated headline: Thousands of Wild Buffalo Appear Out of Nowhere at Standing Rock

In reality, from what I can gather on the internet, about a hundred of them were purposefully released by protesters nearby. But the appearance of a sacred animal in a time of injustice… morale is morale and it doesn’t get more poetic.

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Speaking of spirituality: this passage of C.S. Lewis’ “The Screwtape Letters,” in which an elder demon gives epistolary advice to his young demon-nephew about how to sway humans toward their “father below,” is indeed more appropriate than ever this election season:

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I briefly dated a guy who flippantly said that C.S. Lewis is an idiot. Key word: “briefly.” Regardless of your thoughts on Christianity, “The Screwtape Letters” is a damn classic.

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Another damn classic: “George of the Jungle,” the 1997 kids movie starring Brendan Fraser. Having a cold will do funny things to a person, and on a sick day this month I found myself renting and watching this movie in its entirety. Why, you ask? Because I read this super right-on Tumblr analysis of how it’s a femininst flick, and felt slightly less bad about how much I liked it as a kid. Does it hold up? Not necessarily — you have to be eight or nine years old to truly appreciate it. But the analysis is still right-on, and I was delirious while watching anyway.

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I’ve been rereading Harry Potter before bed, and was tickled to find that in “The Goblet of Fire,” Ron Weasley perfectly sums up how I survived a number of avant garde movements, including surrealism, in a French literature class in college. It’s not that I dislike the avant garde — I was just very, very bad at French. But, I got much higher marks in that class than in any of my other French classes using similar tactics to Weasley in the hapless wizards’ Divination class:

“You know,” said Ron, whose hair was on end because of all the times he had run his fingers through it in frustration, “I think it’s back to the old Divination standby.”
“What — make it up?”
“Yeah,” said Ron, sweeping the jumble of scrawled notes off the table, dipping his pen into some ink, and starting to write.
“Next Monday,” he said as he scribbled, “I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter.” He looked at Harry. “You know [Professor Trelawney] — just put in loads of misery, she’ll lap it up.”

It’s surrealism, Harry.

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Jane Howard on the state of Australia’s culture of art criticism:

Criticism works in conversation. This conversation takes many shapes: the conversation between critic and art, between critic and reader, between critic and critic. . . . But we’ve lost these conversations. . . . And the less this conversation exists, the less it is able to exist.

Here’s to keeping the conversation going, even if it’s about “George of the Jungle.”

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Happy Halloween from the bridesmaid from hell and thift-store Thor:

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Cover Image/“Aries” by Eugenia Loli