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	<title>nhr &#187; Uncategorized</title>
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	<description>A New Haven Literary Journal</description>
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		<title>&#8220;How&#8217;s East Haven?&#8221; &#8220;Sucks.&#8221;</title>
		<link>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2012/01/hows-east-haven-sucks/</link>
		<comments>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2012/01/hows-east-haven-sucks/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 31 Jan 2012 15:31:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Eva Geertz</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Connecticut]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[East Haven]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[movies]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ocean's 12]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.newhavenreview.com/?p=3463</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>The movie Ocean's Twelve, which came out in 2004, is one of my favorite movies of the last ten years. (Make of that what you will.) I don't know how many times I've watched it -- certainly a dozen, which seems right and just. Part of my affection for the movie stems from a little [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>The movie Ocean's Twelve, which came out in 2004, is one of my favorite movies of the last ten years. (Make of that what you will.) I don't know how many times I've watched it -- certainly a dozen, which seems right and just. Part of my affection for the movie stems from a little detail at the beginning of the movie. We see Danny Ocean (George Clooney) talking to a bank employee, talking about safe deposit boxes and retirement funds, and a caption flits onto the screen: East Haven, Connecticut.</p>
<p>The moment I saw this, my first thought was: Why would a guy like Danny Ocean be in East Haven, Connecticut? And why does the shot of him leaving the bank and strolling through the center of town, then dumping his flowers into the trash so he can rush back to his wife, Tess, show a quaint, charming, subtly-decorated New England town which bears no resemblance to East Haven, Connecticut? He’s not in any East Haven I’ve ever seen; he’s in Guilford. He’s in Litchfield. He’s somewhere in Connecticut, sure -- but it sure as hell isn’t East Haven.<br />
I've discussed this with people who are more capable of nuanced thought than I. My original theory was, "Whoever wrote the movie (George Nolfi) thinks that all of Connecticut is like Westport, and has no idea that East Haven is just this blue collar town where rich people do not go to retire, where art curators are not going to redecorate their beach house and quibble with the housepainters about how much brown to add to the white paint." That it was a mistake borne out of ignorance of the true cultural geography of Connecticut.</p>
<p>But a cooler head suggests that perhaps the explanation is more complicated but also more mundane: that the screenwriter knew what he was doing when he wrote "East Haven, Connecticut," but that the director (Steven Soderbergh) didn't know what was envisioned by Nolfi when he went to film, and so, that segment of the movie wound up being the stereotypical "Connecticut" that people are used to in Hollywood product (with the exception of Mystic Pizza, which does a pretty good job of depicting working class life in Mystic -- at least, it LOOKS like Mystic, and not Westport. Or Guilford). The cooler head suggests that perhaps a town like East Haven would actually be an excellent place for Danny Ocean to hide out: claiming he’s a retired high school basketball coach, he’d have a chance to just blend into the community.</p>
<p>But here's what I'm having fun thinking about now: how lots of people who watch that movie from now on will see that little line of text -- East Haven, Connecticut -- and it's gonna mean something different now because of this hullabaloo with the mayor and tacos and the cops who've been harassing the Latinos who've been making East Haven their homes for the last 20 odd years.</p>
<p>When you factor in Ocean’s pseudonym, which he takes on to blend in to the charming little community of East Haven, is Diaz, the whole thing just becomes more comical. Wrong ethnic group to pick, it seems, if you're trying to sketch a character who's just trying to blend in. But maybe someone knew this would be a problem. When Rusty Ryan (Brad Pitt) asks Ocean, “How’s East Haven?” Ocean doesn’t skip a beat. “Sucks,” he says. So perhaps the screenwriter knew something about the real East Haven after all?</p>
<p>I am a sucker for bloopers -- you know, the gag reels they tack onto DVDs as “extras” off the main menu -- and it seems to me that more than ever, those opening scenes of “Ocean’s Twelve” are just one giant blooper. Mr. and Mrs. Diaz, you really picked the wrong place to go if you were trying to escape the attention of local police. Fortunately, in your cases, though, it was just a movie.</p>
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		<title>Russell Hoban.</title>
		<link>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/12/russell-hoban/</link>
		<comments>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/12/russell-hoban/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 16 Dec 2011 14:51:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Eva Geertz</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.newhavenreview.com/?p=3414</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>I’m writing this on the morning of Friday, the 16th of December.</p> <p>&#160;</p> <p>Yesterday’s New York Times featured two big obituaries that were of note to people in the world of books and letters. George Whitman, the owner of (as people kept saying) the fabled, the legendary, Paris bookstore Shakespeare &#38; Co., died at the [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I’m writing this on the morning of Friday, the 16th of December.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>Yesterday’s New York Times featured two big obituaries that were of note to people in the world of books and letters. George Whitman, the owner of (as people kept saying) the fabled, the legendary, Paris bookstore Shakespeare &amp; Co., died at the age of 98. I never went to Shakespeare &amp; Co. and I really don’t have much to say about the place, though obviously it was a landmark and hugely important. Godspeed to you, Mr. Whitman. But I am bitter and sad about the attention Whitman’s death attracted because the other big obituary I read yesterday affected me much more deeply, and I was surprised that I didn’t read the sad responses to it on Facebook that I had genuinely expected.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>Russell Hoban died.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>Were you ever a child? When you were little, did you read those books about the little badger named Frances who made up songs about how she didn’t like eggs? Who had a little sister named Gloria who loved Chompo bars? Whose best friend, Albert, was obviously going to grow up to be the only confirmed bachelor badger in town? Who had an awful friend named Thelma who was such a bitch that I cannot imagine ever naming a child of mine Thelma?</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>Russell Hoban wrote a short but hugely important series of stories about Frances. Bread and Jam for Frances; Bedtime for Frances; A Bargain for Frances; A Birthday for Frances; Best Friends for Frances; A Baby Sister for Frances. They are all absolutely wonderful. The illustrations were by Hoban’s wife, Lillian, except for the one done by the master Garth Williams (I feel bad about this, but have to admit that the one with the Williams illustrations is actually the one where I like the pictures the least -- this is not unlike how the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle book that I like the least, even though it’s wonderful, is illustrated by Maurice Sendak -- I prefer the Hilary Knight illustrations in the other three titles). Hoban wrote many, many other books, including acclaimed works for grownups. But I know nothing about them. I tell you this not in a boastful way, but just to make it clear I am no authority on Russell Hoban.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>But I can tell you this: Hoban is a guy whose work was essential to the formation of thousands and thousands and thousands of readers around the world. Maybe not all highbrow readers -- maybe not the sort of people who shopped at Shakespeare and Company in Paris. But they were readers. And they loved those books.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>When I was small, I spent a lot of time in the tiny town of Enfield, New Hampshire. There isn’t much happening in Enfield and there was even less happening then, when I was little. But they had a charming public library, which was a Victorian house that had been converted into a library. Every summer I would borrow the same books from that library. These were books I would never have touched the rest of the year, when I was in New Haven -- they were special <em>summertime only</em> books. The Frances books were summertime books. So was Eloise in Paris. Sacred titles, these.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>When the Foundry Bookstore was still around, one day, about ten years ago, I very coolly went in and bought all of the Frances books they had -- I think there were four titles in stock. I didn’t need them, strictly speaking, but I thought, “I need to take these home and keep them safe.” I read them once and tucked them away on my shelf, with no intention of doing anything with them except enjoying them now and then.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>Now, I have a three year old who adores the Frances books, which I have been reading to her since she was an infant. She loves to eat bread and jam because of Frances. We will always have copies of the Frances books in our house. Because not enough people seem to be taking this seriously, I will be loud when I say Rest in peace, Mr. Hoban. I know I didn’t know all your work, but what I knew, I loved.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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		<title>The Baby in Emily Brownlow&#8217;s Tummy</title>
		<link>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/05/the-baby-in-emily-brownlows-tummy-2/</link>
		<comments>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/05/the-baby-in-emily-brownlows-tummy-2/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 18 May 2011 14:10:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Adoption]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Babies]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Tell Me Again About the Night I Was Born]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.newhavenreview.com/?p=2629</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>There’s a baby in Emily Brownlow’s tummy. Emily Brownlow babysits for my daughter Saskia most Friday mornings so we’ve been watching her belly rise like dough in a bowl and talking about the baby inside.</p> <p>The timing’s good for us—to see this belly rise, and mull that whole “where babies come from” question. Saskia turns [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>There’s a baby in Emily Brownlow’s tummy. Emily Brownlow babysits for my daughter Saskia most Friday mornings so we’ve been watching her belly rise like dough in a bowl and talking about the baby inside.</p>
<p>The timing’s good for us—to see this belly rise, and mull that whole “where babies come from” question. Saskia turns three in about a month, around the time Emily Brownlow’s baby will be born. The timing’s good for us not because Saskia’s going to have a baby brother or sister—we are not, Saskia’s the fourth, our eldest is fifteen and we are done with babies—but because Saskia is adopted and Emily Brownlow’s belly provides an opportunity to talk about birth and babies—and adoption.</p>
<p>Through Emily Brownlow, we kind of “get” the idea that babies grow in tummies. Through Jamie Lee Curtis’ <em>Tell Me Again About the Night I Was Born </em>we kind of “get” adopted. Putting those two ideas together, though, that’s harder.</p>
<p>The little girl’s story in <em>Tell Me Again</em> is about a closed adoption: the adoptive parents say the first mom couldn’t be a mom and the baby flies home from the hospital with her new parents, their family a neat, pretty triangle. Our family isn’t really like that, with four kids and five grandparents from us, plus the mother Saskia doesn’t know as her mother, and aunts, uncles, cousins plus four more grandparents...</p>
<p>Saskia knows her birth mother, Caroline, as Auntie Cece. While she knows her grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins on that side, all those connections elude most two year-olds. She knows things like, “Grandma Lisa has two dogs at her house,” or “Liz and Bob’s house has a small crib and a big bathtub.” I am the Mama and my husband is the Papa; we don’t really require parents because we <em>are</em> the parents. Caroline suggested that Saskia call her Auntie Cece the way her nieces and nephews do. Maybe it fits, in terms of the kind of relationship they have when they see each other. But it doesn’t speak to the essential mother role Caroline plays.</p>
<p>Last night we had dinner with Auntie Cece, Aunt Margaret, cousins Sydney and Adam, and one set of grandparents, Janet and Jacques. Saskia had a grand time eating plenty of pasta with cheese, hamming it up for her audience, wandering the restaurant and meeting all the babies there and opening wonderful presents from the family she accepts <em>as her family</em> although she does not understand the relationships much beyond <em>very nice to me</em>.</p>
<p>Yet, clearly, she sort of understood something was up. Because at bedtime, she told me this: “When I was a baby at the hospital, I was small.” We’ve talked about babies and hospitals before. It did not seem coincidental that after seeing Caroline, she brought the hospital up again.</p>
<p>I asked whether she knew whose belly she was in when she was born at the hospital. She pointed to me. <em>Huh</em>. I took a deep and I hoped upbeat breath. “I would have loved you to be in my tummy,” I said. “But you were in Auntie Cece’s tummy before you born and your Mama and your Papa were at the hospital, too, waiting for you, and we were so happy to be there to hold you right away.” I paused. Her dark eyes were wide, and trained upon mine. I tried to look relaxed and assured, as I continued, “Your Mama and Papa took you home from the hospital right to your brothers.”</p>
<p>She asked, “Did we go home in our car?”</p>
<p>I answered, “It was a different car, a station wagon, before we had a van that could fit us all.”</p>
<p>It really didn’t matter that she’d heard the Auntie Cece part before. It was like the first hearing. It was somehow real.</p>
<p>She looked sad, her mouth drooping down, her eyes shiny although not wet. She hugged me a few minutes later and I asked, “Are you sad about the bellies? Whose belly did you want to be in?” She pointed to me. I hugged her closer and said, “I was right there when you were born and I was your Mama right away. And I was so happy to be your Mama."<br />
***</p>
<p>All the questions that could follow about did Auntie Cece really want me are a ways off. Saskia has a Mama and a Papa and she doesn’t want it another way.</p>
<p>A few minutes later though, Remy came in (he is eight) and Saskia told him, “I was at the hospital and I was born and after Auntie Cece’s tummy I went to Mama and Papa and then we went home in a different car.” <em>Phew</em>.<br />
***</p>
<p>Right now, Emily Brownlow’s baby is letting us talk about tummies and mommies and how I came to be Saskia’s Mama in a more complicated way than some mamas get to be mamas. Later, I imagine that pregnant women and birthdays and all kinds of little things I can’t yet imagine will sometimes sting, the way learning about the tummies was sad for Saskia. I will keep telling her how happy I was to become her Mama—and hope my words and my arms will be enough for her.<br />
***</p>
<p><em>Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser writes a blog, </em>Standing in the Shadows<em>, at the </em>Valley Advocate<em> site.  She has contributed to various newspapers and publications including </em>Child Magazine<em>, the </em>Philadelphia Inquirer<em>, </em>Southwest Review<em>, and the anthology </em>The Maternal is Political<em>, edited by Shari MacDonald Strong.  Sarah lives in Northhampton, Massachusetts, with her husband and four children.</em></p>
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		<title>847 Chapel Street, New Haven, Conn.</title>
		<link>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/03/847-chapel-street-new-haven-conn/</link>
		<comments>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/03/847-chapel-street-new-haven-conn/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 02 Mar 2011 19:22:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Eva Geertz</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA["You Need To Go There"]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Young Men's Institute Library]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://newhavenreview.com/?p=2465</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>Many who know me know that I've been involved for some years with the Young Men's Institute Library, which has been located at 847 Chapel Street for the last hundred-and-some years. Growing up on York Street in the 1970s I had no idea the Library was there; living downtown in the 1980s and 1990s, I [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Many who know me know that I've been involved for some years with the Young Men's Institute Library, which has been located at 847 Chapel Street for the last hundred-and-some years. Growing up on York Street in the 1970s I had no idea the Library was there; living downtown in the 1980s and 1990s, I still didn't know it was there until (and I write this with chagrin) a Yale undergrad asked me one day if I knew anything about the place. I knew nothing. And I was too chicken to go up there and find out what it was. But the Yalie -- a sweet-and-fearless type -- went, and came back to me a day later saying, "You Need To Go There."</p>
<p>In 2002 I was given a membership as a gift, and it changed my life. A few years after that, I joined the board of the Library, and my life changed again -- I gained a mission. I am an evangelist for the Institute Library.</p>
<p>At a dinner party in the fall of 2008 I met Will Baker, a local bookman. Our casual conversation about bookselling led me to ask him if he ever went to the Institute Library. He hadn't heard of it. I said, "Oh, you need go -- let me take you some day on your lunch break."</p>
<p>I took Will to see the Library the following week, as I recall, and it was, I gather, love at first sight. Shortly after that, Will left his position at the William Reese Company and enrolled in a library science program, a move that I found slightly confounding, but also understood: he had a mission, too. For various school assignments, Will threw himself into projects relating to or benefitting the Library. He built its first website -- a lovely, elegant little thing -- and conducted a survey of its members which was full of information that was interesting, surprising, and valuable -- and which would never have been undertaken by anyone on the Library's staff or board. The scale of effort Will put into these projects was simply beyond any one of us: these were labors of love, not merely assignments done to fulfill a degree requirement.</p>
<p>In January of 2011, the Board voted to install William C. Baker as the first Executive Director of the Young Men's Institute Library. A superior bookman -- by which I mean widely read, knowledgeable, and seemingly a Hoover for all information book-related -- Will moved to New Haven a few years ago and has thrown himself into becoming one of those social-lightning-rod types you read about in Malcolm Gladwell essays. I had heard of Will, myself, for years before I actually met him. On becoming acquainted with him, I learned that we knew at least a dozen of the same people. He's done volunteer work for New Haven Reads and at Christ Church New Haven; he has talked at length with at least 75% of the people he's ever laid eyes on, as far as I can tell; if he were interested in political office, he'd be a force to watch, but as it is, he's a bookman, and so he's just.... amazing.</p>
<p>Some folks are whip smart, and some folks are genuinely nice, and some folks are energetic and full of interesting ideas, but very few people combine all of these qualities. Will combines all of these qualities and adds a lot more to the mix; fortunately for the Institute Library, he's directing his love and energy toward the Library now, officially and full-time. The Library's hours have expanded: it is now open not just ten hours a week, but six days a week (M-F, 10-6; Saturday, with volunteer staff, 10-3). With Will at the helm, the Library will be developing new programming; re-working acquisitions policies; and, frankly, God knows what else. The guy's got a list of plans longer than my arm.</p>
<p>I know it's been hard for people to appreciate the Library in recent years because its hours were so choppy and difficult to work with. But now, the hours are longer. The place is open and right in the middle of a very buzz-y neighborhood (Chapel Street near Church -- there's a lot happening there); and there's wireless internet. You can go up and browse the shelves of books and borrow a stack of obscure 1930s thrillers or you can just sit and read for a bit and then amble off on your way. Either way, you are welcome to come by. Membership to the Library is still a humble $25 per year (and can be purchased with plastic for the first time if you go to <a href="http://www.institutelibrary.org">www.institutelibrary.org</a>).</p>
<p>I fell in love with the Institute Library when I saw they had almost every old book by Patrick Dennis on the shelf. Just sitting there. Waiting for me. I imagine that people who read the New Haven Review would have some similar experience on first browsing the stacks. On first walking in. The Institute Library is a beautiful time machine; a librarian walked in, one recent Saturday, and said to me in wonder, "It's a museum of what a library used to be." And it is.... except it's not a museum. It's the real deal. An old-fashioned membership library.</p>
<p>I predict you can fall in love with it too, and then, knocked silly with joy, you can leave the library and go have freshly made square doughnuts at the Orangeside Luncheonette around the corner. Really, a near-perfect morning.</p>
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		<title>And Everything Is Going Fine</title>
		<link>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/02/and-everything-is-going-fine/</link>
		<comments>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/02/and-everything-is-going-fine/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 26 Feb 2011 00:22:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jonathan Kiefer</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[And Everything Is Going Fine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Movie Reviews]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Spalding Gray]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Steven Soderbergh]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[A Tribute to Spalding Gray by Steven Soderbergh <p style="text-align: left;">Steven Soderbergh’s new film does not ask: But who was Spalding Gray, really? That’s a nonstarter, if only because the asking act is best left to Gray himself.</p> <p style="text-align: left;">Yes: an act, as in a bit of business -- or a performative personal literature, [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<h4 style="text-align: left;"><p><a href="http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/02/and-everything-is-going-fine/"><em>Click here to view the embedded video.</em></a></p></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">A Tribute to Spalding Gray by Steven Soderbergh</h4>
<p style="text-align: left;">Steven Soderbergh’s new film does not ask: But who <em>was</em> Spalding Gray, <em>really</em>? That’s a nonstarter, if only because the asking act is best left to Gray himself.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Yes: an act, as in a bit of business -- or a performative personal literature, by which the audacity of sitting alone at a table on a stage and telling stories of self was refined into art. In those cozy dark hours just before the dawn of our era of online oversharing, Gray was the last great confessionalist.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><em>And Everything Is Going Fine</em> takes its title from an ironic leitmotif in one of Gray’s many monologues, whose intimacy and singularity the film has been designed to evoke. It’s a memorial scrapbook of archival Spalding Gray materials, arranged by Soderbergh and editor Susan Littenberg with affectionate attention and good organizational intuition. The images accrue not chronologically but in Graylike narrative zigzags: We see him getting older and younger and older again, moving through fluctuations of flannel and coif and footage formats. But the bigger picture, the story of his life, makes its way from a recognizable beginning toward an expected end. It’s the perfect one-man show: eccentric, hilarious and only boring to those already predisposed against him.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">The rest of us are invited to cherish him once more, and to reflect. What a peculiar cultural figure, this doomed, delectably artful digresser. He was like a different make of David Foster Wallace -- the tone of his voice both intellectual and vernacular, the subject both himself and everything, the suicide both impossible and inevitable. The film does not directly acknowledge that Gray took his own life -- that’s the consensus, anyway -- in 2004, at age 62. It seems to presume that anyone who would be watching already knows this, and will not be able to forget it. Thus does hindsight become foreshadowing: We learn, or are reminded, that Gray’s mother’s mental illness was fatal; that after reading Freud he worried his unconscious would compel him to throw himself out a window; that he took a role in Soderbergh’s <em>King of the Hill </em>partly in order to explore a fantasy of self-induced death.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Expository concerns are handled as Gray handled them: forthrightly, yet discursively. There is no narration, except of course his own. The only character witnesses are his occasional interviewers and very occasional interviewees -- whose ranks include strangers gathered up from his audience and his own father. Otherwise, aptly, it is all Spalding all the time.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Gray recounts his experiments with sex, theater, family and fame. He charts the discovery and cultivation of his technique, which he came to describe as both “creative narcissism” and “poetic journalism.”</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">He says, “I like telling the story of life better than I like living it.”</p>
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		<title>My Caitlin Flanagan Problem: or, Shouldn&#8217;t I Be Reading Something Else, Really?</title>
		<link>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/01/my-caitlin-flanagan-problem-or-shouldnt-i-be-reading-something-else-really/</link>
		<comments>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/01/my-caitlin-flanagan-problem-or-shouldnt-i-be-reading-something-else-really/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 10 Jan 2011 19:00:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Eva Geertz</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Caitlin Flanagan]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literature]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[<p>My daughter was napping, so the house was quiet, and I was eating lunch and staring at my computer. On a whim, I went to the website for The Atlantic, which I always forget about and then remember with a huge sense of relief -- there I know I'll find something I'll want to read.</p> [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>My daughter was napping, so the house was quiet, and I was eating lunch and staring at my computer. On a whim, I went to the website for The Atlantic, which I always forget about and then remember with a huge sense of relief -- <em>there</em> I know I'll find something I'll want to read.</p>
<p>I scrolled through the list of current articles and noticed a piece by Caitlin Flanagan, and clicked on it eagerly. As I settled in to read it, fork in hand, I shook my head and asked "Why am I doing this to myself? It's just going to make me crazy." But I had to read it.</p>
<p>Caitlin Flanagan is on a mental list I have of writers who I read whenever I can, even though they make me crazy. I've got a little list of such writers. Half the time -- more than half the time -- what they write turns me into a raving loony, pissed about their lack of critical thinking, their shitty writing skills, or some other massive flaw in their work; and yet I read every word I can find by these people. Why is this? Why is this? Why do I do this to myself? It's a form of masochism, right? But why?</p>
<p>And am I the only person who does this?</p>
<p>Flanagan is a writer who seems to inspire this reaction in lots of people, so I can't be alone. I mean, she makes people crazy, but she's still earning a living as a writer. I don't think anyone disputes that she's entertaining; she's got lots of clever sentences, and she seldom sounds simply moronic. But nuanced thinking may not be her strong suit, shall we say. I read her and while I'm laughing at some zinger she's come up with, I often think, "Well, no, that's not really true." And I wind up frustrated with the piece as a whole, even as I agree with several points, or even the thrust of the article overall. Even if I think she's got a good idea, I inevitably feel it's not well argued (which is comical, coming from me, because I am probably the least lucid or organized thinker in my zip code). When someone like me thinks a piece isn't well thought out, you've got problems.</p>
<p>But this phenomenon of "I hate you/I love you/When's your next book coming out" happens to me with fiction writers as well. Over the years, based on my affection for one writer, I've been led to the works of other authors who I've been told, or who I suspect, will quench my never-to-be satisfied thirst for another book by my beloved (ok, it's Laurie Colwin, I admit it). So over time I have read numerous novels that I opened hopefully, but have left me just angry that I wasted my time. Books by Maemeve Medwed -- who are the people who really think these are great? Because I just can't get into them; novels by Cathleen Schine, who I ought to love, but who I just.... don't; Meghan Daum. Oh, Meghan Daum. Her first book of essays made me insane: it was so good, so good, and she was so likeable in so many ways, but I just wanted to smack her on the head and tell her to shape up. I approached her novel <em>The Quality of Life Report</em> with apprehension, knowing on the one hand that it would almost certainly suck, but positive that I would devour it in maybe one and a half sittings. I was right on the money. Why did I do this to myself? I could have been reading something I actually enjoyed; instead, I forced myself to read this novel that held no surprises, no phrase that stuck in my head forever after (not true with <em>My Misspent Youth</em>, a collection of pieces that rings in my head all the time). I received her book about house hunting for my birthday last year and was so excited to read it, even as I knew it would disappoint -- and my suspicions were fulfilled. I opened it immediately and couldn't stop reading but in the end I was left feeling like I hadn't read anything at all.</p>
<p>It's very frustrating.</p>
<p>There's a test I have, though, which is, Do you keep your copies of the books by these people, or do you get rid of them (or never even buy them in the first place, but just borrow them from the library).</p>
<p>Cathleen Schine, I've kept one novel (last year's <em>The Three Weissmans of Westport</em>). There are no Medwed books on my shelves.</p>
<p>I'm keeping all my Meghan Daum.</p>
<p>Why do I read writers whose works I know I won't like? It's not like I'm getting paid to read these things (usually). I keep hoping for the next Veronica Geng, Laurie Colwin, James Thurber, or Patrick Dennis. I'm not looking for cosmic enlightenment, folks; just some solid light entertainment. I guess I'll just have to let you know when I find it, and in the meantime, re-read some Betty MacDonald. She's good on a cold winter day.</p>
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		<title>Snu?  What&#8217;s new with you?</title>
		<link>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/01/snu-whats-new-with-you/</link>
		<comments>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2011/01/snu-whats-new-with-you/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 08 Jan 2011 17:10:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Bennett Lovett-Graff</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literature]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[New Haven Review News]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[<p>What's new with us?</p> <p>First, our next issue is out.  Subscribe and check it out.  We have essays on being a ski bum, on being mistaken for a celebrity, on being the new New Haven librarian, on being married happily... or not, on crossing the border, on loving our unloveable hometowns, on being sick and [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>What's new with us?</p>
<p>First, our next issue is out.  Subscribe and check it out.  We have essays on being a ski bum, on being mistaken for a celebrity, on being the new New Haven librarian, on being married happily... or not, on crossing the border, on loving our unloveable hometowns, on being sick and healthy again.</p>
<p>Then there's the poetry and the fiction--all good stuff.</p>
<p>By why stop there?  Our publicity machine has been going strong as well!  <em>The Boston Globe</em> recently had an <a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=X&amp;q=http://www.boston.com/ae/books/articles/"><strong>article</strong> </a>about The New Haven Review and its book publishing venture.</p>
<p>And then there are our authors and their books.  Rudy Delson, author of NHR Books' <em>How to Win Her Love</em>, was interviewed on WFMU (the interview can be heard <a href="http://wfmu.org/flashplayer.php?version=2&amp;show=38271&amp;archive=65303"><strong>here</strong></a>) and our own local WPKN (listen <a href="http://archives.wpkn.org/bookmarks/listen/14314"><strong>here</strong></a>).</p>
<p>Poet Charles Douthat recently <a href="http://newhavenreview.com/index.php/2010/12/12/charles-douthat-at-the-poetry-institute/"><strong>read</strong> </a>from his <em>Blue for Oceans</em> at the Poetry Institute at the Institute Library!</p>
<p>And as for Gregory Feeley's own recent Kentauros, we are looking forward to our first radio programs, courtesy of Connecticut NPR, where he sits down with New Haven Review editors to talk books and whatever else his fervid imagination has cooked up--but more on that later!</p>
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		<title>Review of Kentauros</title>
		<link>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2010/11/review-of-kentauros/</link>
		<comments>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2010/11/review-of-kentauros/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 22 Nov 2010 15:11:22 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>From the Editors</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[book reviews]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[gregory feeley]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kentauros]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[<p>Lois Tilton over at Locus magazine has posted a <a class="postmeta" href="http://www.locusmag.com/Reviews/2010/11/lois-tilton-reviews-short-fiction-mid-november/#kent" target="_blank">very nice review</a> of Kentauros, our new book by Gregory Feeley. Here's just a little of what she has to say:</p> <p>Every part of this work casts a light, provides a different insight. But these lights are all aimed in a single direction [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Lois Tilton over at <em>Locus</em> magazine has posted a <a class="postmeta" href="http://www.locusmag.com/Reviews/2010/11/lois-tilton-reviews-short-fiction-mid-november/#kent" target="_blank">very nice review</a> of <em>Kentauros,</em> our new book by Gregory Feeley. Here's just a little of what she has to say:</p>
<blockquote><p>Every part of this work casts a light, provides a different insight. But these lights are all aimed in a single direction and not at the fantasy story told in the second and sixth chapters. They are aimed at illuminating the myth. A fantasy story is one way of doing this; a literary story is another, and the several essays cast separate lights of their own. Pindar’s ode, no more and no less, was doing the same thing, thousands of years ago (the Greek poets notoriously made stuff up as much as today's fantasy authors). This work is a set of floodlights, and it is the myth itself on the stage, wearing different costumes in each act.</p></blockquote>
<p>Thank you, Ms. Tilton. And for those whose interests are officially piqued, please visit our <a class="postmeta" href="http://newhavenreview.com/index.php/store/" target="_blank">store</a>.</p>
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		<title>20 Non-fiction Writers Under 40</title>
		<link>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2010/10/20-non-fiction-writers-under-40/</link>
		<comments>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2010/10/20-non-fiction-writers-under-40/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 06 Oct 2010 14:21:55 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Mark Oppenheimer</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Non-fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Recommended Books Lists]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[<p>OK, so you may remember that a few months back a little magazine called The New Yorker decided to make a list of 20 top fiction writers under the age of 40. Another magazine — something called “Granta” — does similar lists from time to time. But why does nobody ever make such lists for [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>OK, so you may remember that a few months back a little magazine called <em>The New Yorker</em> decided to make a list of 20 top fiction writers under the age of 40. Another magazine — something called “<em>Granta</em>” — does similar lists from time to time. But why does nobody ever make such lists for non-fiction writers? Some would say that non-fiction is rather <em>vital</em> right now.</p>
<p>So we made such a list. We asked ourselves, we asked our friends. There is nothing scientific about this list. They are in alphabetical order. Some are in fact over 40 years old, but not by much. There are more than 20 of them. We did not all agree on all of them; some of us have substantial conflicts of interest with some of them. We hope you will meet some people you had not heard of. We hope you will seek out their writing. (Nota bene: much of the research for this list was done by our fabulous intern, and rising literary star, Jeremy Lent.)</p>
<p>There are hyperlinks here, but you have to hunt for them with your little mousie. Make it a fun game.</p>
<p>•  <a href="http://www.rachelaviv.com/"><strong>Rachel Aviv</strong></a> is a freelance journalist and is currently a Rosalynn Carter Fellow for mental health journalism with the Carter Center. She’s written for the <em>New York Times</em> about off-beat educational topics, such as the death of Braille and naked parties at elite American colleges. In one of her greatest piece, she <a href="http://www.believermag.com/issues/200702/?read=article_aviv">wrote about Toastmasters</a> for <em>The Believer</em>.</p>
<p>• <a href="http://www.eulabiss.net/"><strong>Eula Biss</strong></a> teaches and writes at Northwestern University, and she is the founding editor of Essay Press, which publishes long-form essays.  After college, Biss taught in the New York City public school system before beginning to write essays and books.  Her collection of prose poems, <em>The Balloonist</em>, was published in 2002.  <em>Notes from No Man’s Land</em> (2009) is a book of essays about race and racial identity in America, and it won the <a href="http://www.northwestern.edu/newscenter/stories/2010/03/biss.html">National Book Critics Circle Award.</a></p>
<p>• <strong><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/theobserver/2010/mar/21/tom-bissell-video-game-cocaine-addiction">Tom Bissell</a> </strong>(b. 1974) began writing after a bout of depression cut short his stint with the Peace Corps in Uzbekistan.  After his return, Bissell worked as an editor for Henry Holt before going on to write travel journalism and books.  <em>The Father of All Things</em> (2007) is Bissell’s account of his father’s military tour in Vietnam and a recent father-son return trip to the country.  In 2003, Bissell co-authored <em>Speak, Commentary</em>, a book of fake commentaries on science fiction films.  (The supposed commentators include Noam Chomsky, Ann Coulter and Dick Cheney.)  Most recently, Bissell wrote about his more sedentary pursuits in <em>Extra Lives: Why Video Games Matter</em> (2010).</p>
<p>• <strong>Dan Chiasson</strong> has published three collections of poetry and has been the poetry editor for <em>The Paris Review</em>.  In 2007, <a href="http://www.guernicamag.com/interviews/237/this_mere_guy/">he</a> published <em>One Kind of Everything: Poem and Person in Contemporary America</em>, a collection of essays on the pros and cons of autobiographical material in modern American poetry.  He <a href="http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/apr/29/horse-sense-heartache/">frequently reviews </a>for <em>The New York Review of Books. </em>Chiasson teaches poetry workshops and courses on American poetry at Wellesley College.</p>
<p>• <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/ta-nehisi-coates"><strong>Ta-Nehisi Coates</strong></a> (b. 1975) is a senior editor at <em>Atlantic Monthly</em>, where he writes about politics, race and pop culture.  He also writes a popular blog at TheAtlantic.com.  Coates dropped out of college after a rough ride through the Baltimore public school system, but he was hired by <em>Time</em> in 2005.  In 2009, Coates published a memoir, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ISBN=0385527462/theatlanticmonthA/ref=nosim/qid=1269361002&amp;sr=8-1-spell"><em>The Beautiful Struggle: A Father, Two Sons, and an Unlikely Road to Manhood</em></a> about his father’s complicated role in his childhood.</p>
<p>• <a href="http://www.joshuacohen.org/home"><strong>Joshua Cohen</strong></a> (b. 1980) is the author of six novels and story collections.  Most recently, he published <em>Witz</em> (2010), a novel about an imagined future in which only one Jew remains alive on earth and yet Jewish culture is all the rage.  Cohen also wrote <em>A Heaven of Others</em> (2008), a novel about the afterlife of a Jewish boy killed by a Palestinian child.  Cohen also writes a regular column for <a href="http://tabletmag.com">Tablet Magazine </a>about literature in translation.  The majority of his personal webpage is written in Latin.</p>
<p>• <a href="http://www.creativenonfiction.org/thejournal/articles/issue10/10dagata_ai.htm"><strong>John D’Agata</strong></a>’s (b.1974) most recent work is <a href="http://articles.latimes.com/2010/feb/14/entertainment/la-ca-john-dagata14-2010feb14"><em>About a Mountain</em></a> (2010), a book-length investigative piece about the U.S. government’s thwarted plan to store nuclear waste at Yucca Mountain, near Las Vegas.  D’Agata also published <em>Halls of Fame</em> (2003), a collection of essays.  The eponymous essay explores America’s nearly 3,000 halls of fame, including one dedicated to shuffleboard players.  In 2009, D’Agata edited the anthology <em>Origins of the Essay</em>, which begins with prose selections from Sumerian and Akkadian writers in 1500 BCE, then approaches the modern era by way of Petrarch, Bacon, Swift and Woolf.  D’Agata currently teaches creative writing at the University of Iowa.</p>
<p>• <a href="http://www.jasonfagone.com/"><strong>Jason Fagone</strong></a> (31 years old) is a freelance journalist living in Philadelphia.  He writes about science, sports and culture for <em>GQ, Esquire, Atlantic Monthly, Slate</em> and other magazines.  In February 2010, he published an investigative piece in <em>GQ</em> about a 2008 Philadelphia shooting, possibly perpetrated by former Colts wide receiver Marvin Harrison.  As a result of Fagone’s reporting, the Philadelphia D.A. began reinvestigating the case.  In 2006, Fagone published his first book, <a href="http://www.jasonfagone.com/aboutBook.html"><em>Horsemen of the Esophagus: Competitive Eating and the Big Fat American Dream</em></a>, which chronicled his journeys to 27 eating contests.</p>
<p>• <a href="http://www.nyinquirer.com/nyinquirer/2006/11/an_interview_wi.html"><strong>Keith Gessen</strong></a> (b. 1975) is one of the founding editors of <a href="http://nplusonemag.com/"><em>n+1</em></a>, a twice-yearly journal started in 2004 that publishes articles on politics, literature and culture. Gessen has also written book reviews for magazines like New York and Slate. Gessen was born in the USSR, and although his family moved to the U.S. when he was six, some of his writing has focused on Russia. That includes a 2004 article in <em>Atlantic Monthly</em> about the caretakers of Lenin’s tomb and a 2005 English translation of <em>Voices From Chernobyl</em>, an account of the nuclear disaster by the Belarusian journalist Svetlana Alexievich. In 2008, Gessen published his first novel, <em>All the Sad Young Literary Men</em>, a tale of three recent college graduates, each struggling to make a life as a writer.</p>
<p>• <strong>Joshua Glenn</strong> (who is 42!) is the cofounder of <a href="http://hilobrow.com/">HiLobrow</a>, where he describes himself as a “freelance writer, editor, and cultural semiotics analyst for international brands.” The blog has various contributors who write everything from fiction to posts about web technology and, of course, cultural semiotics. Glenn was an editor and columnist for the Boston Globe’s “Ideas” section. In 2007, he co-edited the anthology <em>Taking Things Seriously: 75 Objects With Unexpected Significance</em>, a collection of first-person essays about favorite objects. In 2008, he co-wrote <em>The Idler’s Glossary</em>, a listing of the etymology of hundreds of words and phrases used to describe people in various states of not working.</p>
<p>• <strong>Chuck Klosterman</strong> (b. 1972) worked as a journalist in North Dakota and Ohio before moving to New York City in 2002.  Since then, he’s written freelance articles for the <em>New York Times Magazine</em>, <em>The Believer</em> and <em>Esquire</em>, among other publications.  Some of his freelance work focuses on sports: Klosterman contributes to ESPN.com’s Page 2, which published his week-long blog during the 2006 Super Bowl.  Perhaps best known for his nonfiction books, Klosterman has published six books since 2001.  <em>Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto</em> (2003) is a collection of humorous essays on such topics as MTV’s <em>The Real World</em>, Billy Joel and the computer game The Sims.  In 2010, Klosterman released <a href="http://www.randomhouse.com/catalog/display.pperl?isbn=9780307587923">HYPERtheticals: 50 Questions for Insane Conversations</a>, a card game involving unusual conversation-starters. His greatest work remains his first, the memoir <em>Fargo Rock City.</em></p>
<p>• <a href="http://www.youthrobber.com/"><strong>Brendan Koerner</strong></a> is a contributing editor for <em>Wired</em>, where he writes the monthly “Mr. Know-It-All” column, responding to reader queries about 21st century ethical issues in technology, medicine, video gaming, etc. Koerner also writes feature articles for <em>Wired</em>, covering topics like <a href="http://www.wired.com/magazine/2010/06/ff_alcoholics_anonymous/">the continuing enigma of Alcoholics Anonymous</a>, a fungus that’s threatening crops across Africa and the Middle East and the possibility that Facebook and Twitter help their users be more productive. In 2008, Koerner published <em>Now the Hell Will Start</em>, a biography of an African American soldier in WWII sent to help build a supply road between India and China.</p>
<p>• <strong>Gideon Lewis-Kraus</strong> is an American-born writer who lives in Berlin.  We have no idea how old he is, but we think he is young; he <em>writes</em> young, and we mean that in a good way. He has contributed articles to <em>Village Voice, The Nation, </em>and<em> Harper’s,</em> among other publications.  In 2008, Lewis-Kraus wrote an article for <em>Harper’s</em> called <a href="http://www.harpers.org/archive/2009/03/0082428">“The Last Book Party: Publishing drinks to a life after death,”</a> a first-person report from the 2008 Frankfurt Book Fair and a consideration of publishing’s future.  The piece spawned a lot of talk. And that was because the piece was very, very good. He wrote <a href="http://www.believermag.com/issues/200407/?read=article_lewis-kraus">this</a> too.</p>
<p>• <a href="http://madayo.com/"><strong>Dayo Olopade</strong></a> is currently a political reporter for the online news site <em>The Daily Beast</em>.  She began her professional writing career at <em>The New Republic</em>, where she covered the 2008 presidential primaries and election.  Olopade is also a Bernard Schwartz Fellow at the New American Foundation.  Her fellowship duties include reporting on the effect of disruptive technologies on human development, with a focus on Sub-Saharan Africa.  In June 2010, Olopade published an article in <em>Foreign Policy</em> about <a href="http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2010/06/23/let_africa_have_the_iphone">Apple’s troubling non-presence in Nigeria</a> and surrounding countries.</p>
<p>• <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/11/13/books/review/13orr.html"><strong>David Orr</strong></a> is a writer and lawyer living in Ithaca, New York.  During law school at Yale, Orr began writing about poetry for various publications.  In 2008, he wrote the article <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/journal/article.html?id=181746">“The Politics of Poetry”</a> for The Poetry Foundation, in which he used a comment made at an Ohio rally for Hilary Clinton (“[Obama’s] a poet, not a fighter”) to discuss the misconception that politics and poetry don’t mix. He has <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/03/11/books/review/Orr.t.html">the virtue of making people</a> <a href="http://www.johncasteen.com/writing/shoot-the-messenger.html">mad</a>. Orr also writes the column “On Poetry” for <em>The New York Times Book Review</em>.</p>
<p>• <strong>David Samuels</strong> (b.1967) is older than 40, but we included him anyway. He is a contributing editor at <em>Harper’s</em>, where he’s written about such topics as Super Bowl XL, America’s nuclear-testing program and Woodstock 1999 (an attempted revival of the 1969 rock festival). He writes for a lot of other magazines. In 2008, Samuels published <em>The Runner: A True Account of the Amazing Lies and Fantastical Adventures of the Ivy League Imposter James Hogue</em>, about a 28 year-old convicted thief who successfully passed himself off to Princeton admissions as a 16 year-old cowboy and self-taught orphan. At the same time, he published a collection of his work, <a href="http://www.thenewpress.com/index.php?option=com_catalog&amp;task=author&amp;author_id=P37978"><em>Only Love Can Break Your Heart.</em></a></p>
<p>• <strong>Kelefa Sanneh</strong> has been a staff writer for <em>The New Yorker</em> since 2008. Prior to that, he was the pop-music critic for The New York Times, beginning in 2002. His article <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2004/10/31/arts/music/31sann.html?pagewanted=all">“The Rap Against Rockism,” </a>which appeared in the <em>Times</em> in 2004, discusses a perhaps-ungrounded set of prejudices held by many “old school” rock fans. Sanneh’s <em>New Yorker </em>articles have included profiles of lesser-known pop-culture figures and a report on Chicago’s Trinity United Church of Christ (led by embattled pastor Jeremiah Wright). Sanneh’s work has appeared in the yearly anthology Da Capo <em>Best Music Writing</em> in 2002, 2005 and 2007.</p>
<p>• <strong>Samantha Shapiro</strong> is a contributing writer for <em>The New York Times Magazine</em> and has also written for <em>Slate, Mother Jones, Wired</em>, and others.  Many of Shapiro’s articles deal with religion: for instance, an obituary of <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/27/magazine/27ike-t.html">“Reverend Ike,”</a> a New York preacher who spearheaded the “power of positive thinking” gospel; a 2006 speech by the outgoing chancellor of the New York Jewish Theological Seminary that ruffled many Jewish feathers; a first-person account of how her atheist-leaning nephew finally got bar-mitzvahed. <a href="http://www.tabletmag.com/life-and-religion/26047/minyin-man/">Here</a> is a recent piece.</p>
<p>• <a href="http://www.jakesilverstein.com/"><strong>Jake Silverstein</strong></a> (b. 1975) was named editor of <em>Texas Monthly</em> in 2008.  After college and graduate work in English, Silverstein moved to Marfa, Texas, and began writing for the<em> Big Bend Sentinel.</em> Then, he embarked on a freelance writing career, roaming Texas and Mexico in search of magazine stories.  The details of that search are chronicled in <em>Nothing Happened and Then It Did</em> (2010), Silverstein’s first book. In 2007, Silverstein won the PEN/USA Journalism Award for a <em>Harper’s </em>article <a href="http://www.harpers.org/archive/2006/07/0081127">about a deathly automobile road race in Mexico.</a></p>
<p>• <a href="http://www.lizzieskurnick.com/"><strong>Lizzie Skurnick</strong></a> is a critic, poet, essayist, blogger and author.  She regularly contributes book reviews to <em>The New York Times </em>and<em> The Washington Post.</em> She has published her poems in <em>The Iowa Review </em>and<em> The New Haven Review</em> (among others), and in 2005, she released a collection called <em>Check-In</em>.  Since 2003, Skurnick has maintained the blog <a href="http://www.theoldhag.com/">Old Hag</a>, to which she posts book reviews and her thoughts about various literary and journalistic matters.  And if that weren’t enough, Skurnick has published ten teen novels, including some in the Sweet Valley High series.  She writes a weekly column about teen lit for Jezebel.com, and in 2009, she published <em>Shelf Discovery: The Teen Classics We Never Stopped Reading.</em></p>
<p>• <strong>Zadie Smith</strong> (b. 1975) is crazy famous, deserves to be, and <a href="http://www.observer.com/2010/media/zadie-smith-starts-books-column-harpers">soon will start writing the New Books column</a> for <em>Harper’s. </em>If you only know her novels, check out her <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Changing-My-Mind-Occasional-Essays/dp/1594202370">collection of essays</a>.</p>
<p>• <a href="http://www.toure.com/"><strong>Touré</strong></a> (b. 1971) is a music writer, novelist and TV personality.  Since 1997, he’s been a contributing editor for <em>Rolling Stone</em>, where he’s published cover stories on such hip-hop artists as Alicia Keys, 50 Cent and Jay-Z.  He has released two collections of his magazine writing, as well as <em>Soul City</em> (2004), a magical-realist novel about a mayoral election in an imagined utopia of African-American culture.  Touré is also the host of two music programs on Fuse TV.</p>
<p>•  <a href="http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/Author?oid=21605"><strong>Lindy West</strong></a> is the film editor for <em>The Stranger</em>, a weekly arts and culture newspaper in Seattle. She also makes a lot of noise online, both through her blog (posted on both TheStranger.com and Telegraph.co.uk) and on Twitter. On her blog, West’s bio says that she writes about “film, popular culture, lady stuff, animal attacks, and amusing garbage she finds on the ground.” Her film reviews are first-person, humorous and highly opinionated. She <a href="http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/burkas-and-birkins/Content?oid=4132715">wrote this bit of awesomeness</a> about <em>Sex and the City 2.</em> We have no idea how old she is.</p>
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		<title>Finding the Words</title>
		<link>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2010/09/finding-the-words/</link>
		<comments>http://www.newhavenreview.com/index.php/2010/09/finding-the-words/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 19 Sep 2010 16:07:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Donald Brown</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Andrew Kelsey]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Good Words: A Memorial with Music for Paul Everett Tarsus]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Meg Miroshnik]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[The Yale Cabaret]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Theater Reviews]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://newhavenreview.com/?p=2096</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>The Yale Cabaret is back.  And the new season began with a memorial service.</p> <p>At Good Words: A Memorial with Music for Paul Everett Tarsus, audience members found themselves sitting on folding chairs, eating from a catered buffet service, attending a memorial for a man who died in Hamden, a "local theater artist," according to [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>The Yale Cabaret is back.  And the new season began with a memorial service.</p>
<p>At <em>Good Words: A Memorial with Music for Paul Everett Tarsus</em>, audience members found themselves sitting on folding chairs, eating from a catered buffet service, attending a memorial for a man who died in Hamden, a "local theater artist," according to his obituary, who requested that his memorial be held in a theater.  Seems the Cab's black-walled basement digs was the best they could do.</p>
<p>The conceit of the staging meant that for the opening of the play, we were addressed as congregants at a service.  Nehemiah Luckett welcomed us and filled in a bit of backstory, though very minimally.  When he led an onstage chorus (Sunder Ganglani, Taylor Vaughn-Lasley, Christina Anderson) in "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah," and got the audience to join in, the ice was effectively broken and we were ready to hear the story.</p>
<p>The burden of the story was borne by Paul's father, Dr. Paul Caleb Tarsus (Trai Byers), a minister descended from a teacher who abandoned the small school in the south where his father taught to study at the Yale Divinity School.  As that synopsis might suggest, we might expect a tale of  generational tension and disappointed expectations, about how a minister raised a theater artist, but the story of Paul Jr.'s life and death was not the main focus.  Instead, the drama focused on the old man's youth in New Canaan, Georgia, and his eventual flight to the north, where his son was born.</p>
<p>The power of the piece derived from the uplifting vocals of the chorus, and depended upon Byers' capable performance as the old man, doddering through his memories. As Dr. Tarsus told us, memory is like a cabinet with a lot of drawers in it, but lately the contents of his drawers have gotten mixed.  And that meant he sometimes spoke as a son addressing his own father and sometimes as the father of the young man who died, a slippage heightened by the chorus which provoked him with voices that echoed and bedeviled his statements while also adding strikingly rhythmic and poetic effects to his monologue.</p>
<p>The chorus were in fine voice, particularly Ganglani's spirited lead on "Poor, Wayfaring Stranger" and Vaughn-Lasley's angry rendition (in the role of Eula, the girl Dr. Tarsus left behind) of "Pass Me Not O Gentle Savior."  The songs flitted in and out of the narrative, commenting on Dr. Tarsus' memories, and opening his monologues to areas of feeling that his effort to find only "good words" failed to acknowledge.</p>
<p>The most unsatisfying aspect of the play, written by Meg Miroshnik, with music (including two original songs) by Mark A. Miller, directed by Andrew Kelsey (Artistic Director for the Cab this season) was the uncertainty about the ultimate nature of the relation between Paul the father and Paul the son, a relation indicated by the son's choice of theater rather than the ministry, but that story wasn't presented.  In its place was the theme of the overwhelming continuity of past and present, as Byers, recreating his courtship of Eula after she followed him to New Haven, enacted a forceful elliptical segue from his young start in life to an old man's present in which his son was gone.</p>
<p>It was great to be back at the Cab where each week provides a new experience, a new challenge, and, as the motto for the new season reads, "shifting perspectives on performance."  Next up, Sept. 23-25, is <em>Far Away</em>, by British Brechtian playwright Caryl Churchill, directed by Flordelino Lagundino.</p>
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