Archive for the 'In this week's New Yorker' Category

From this week’s New Yorker

April 25, 2010

I have to confess that I’ve never read anything by Saul Bellow, so I wasn’t the prime audience for the selection of his letters, but I was fascinated to perceive that most of them were apologies.

Also fascinating: in his Critic-at-Large piece on Tyler Perry, Hilton Als notes that 40-year-old Perry (the writer/director/creator of the Madea movies) is “the most financially successful black man the American film industry has ever known.”

And the usual funny stuff, including a Talk of the Town sidebar by Billy Kimball entitled “Least Common Complaints About the New iPad” (my favorites: “Strange odor coming from husband while using iPad,” “The iBookstore ichthyology section includes almost nothing on lampreys,” and “Insufficient media coverage”) and a great Roz Chast cartoon:

In this week’s New Yorker

March 17, 2010

The “bumper stickers” below make me exquisitely aware of what a bubble I live in, informed primarily by the writing and reporting every week in The New Yorker. And thank God and Lady GaGa for that! In this week’s issue, there’s a terrific profile by Rebecca Mead of the red-diaper baby who runs the Public Theater (Oskar Eustis) and a profile by Jeffrey Toobin of John Paul Stevens that answers the musical question, “How did a moderate Republican appointed by Gerald Ford wind up firmly esconced in the liberal wing of the Supreme Court?”

There’s also a hilarious Shouts & Murmurs piece by Paul Rudnick that characteristically takes what might seem like a tired subject (“Don’t Ask Don’t Tell”) and pushes it to extremes: “If I were to serve openly as a homosexual, nothing would be the same. Slaughtering terrorists just wouldn’t feel special. It would be, like, Yeah, so today I detonated a bunker filled with snipers, and then I texted my boyfriend, and I agreed that we should only use cerulean for an accent wall. Big whoop. But now, when I have to be more coded and paranoid, every time I strap on my body armor and hoist my M16 I can think, Hey, Mr. Jihad, how about a brunch date with my rocket launcher? I’m not an openly gay soldier; I’m a secret gay soldier, and that makes me fierce! I’m Project Gunway!”

And then there’s this delicious Roz Chast cartoon:

In this week’s New Yorker

February 5, 2010

It’s been my lifelong dream to be published in the New Yorker, the finest magazine in the history of the U.S. Not nearly as good as having a piece of writing published, but fun nevertheless: being name-checked by John Lahr in his essay on Sam Shepard. Lahr folds into his article a whole lot of biographical material he could only have gotten from my book, so I appreciate that he goes out of his way to mention my biography. What’s funny, of course, is that he quotes me quoting someone else. I didn’t meet Sam and interview him until years after the book was published. Meanwhile, Lahr knew Sam “back in the day” and was responsible for Lincoln Center Theater producing his play Operation Sidewinder, a crazy poetic rock-n-roll incantation that I wish I’d seen.

In this week’s New Yorker

January 18, 2010

Two pieces in this week’s New Yorker caught and rewarded my interest. The major one was Margaret Talbot’s long, well-reported story on the Proposition 8 trial in California, which the lawyers working to overturn the law by judicial fiat hope to take to the Supreme Court and thereby eliminate the state-by-state wrassle over marriage equality. There’s a lot of controversy over timing and argument, but Ted Olson — the guy who argued for the government in the 2000 election debacle in Florida and who has signed on to the gay marriage cause big-time — thinks the case can win, because Proposition 8 “created three unequal classes of people in California: ‘The eighteen thousand or so gay couples who were already married got to remain married. But if they get divorced they can’t get remarried! Is that irrational, or what? Then you have heterosexual couples who can get married, and gays and lesbians who didn’t get married before Prop. 8 and now can’t.” Check out the whole article here.

Then there’s Michael Schulman’s Talk of the Town piece about the impending return to the spotlight of Pee Wee Herman, and not a minute too soon. (Andy and I watched the Pee Wee Herman Christmas Special a couple of weeks ago, a little stoned, and OMG, it is brilliant and subversive and crazy all at once. It’s as if Highlights magazine ran a feature called “Count the Gay Icons on This Prime-Time TV Special.” And when Grace Jones stepped out of a box with a slice of foam on her head to sing “The Little Drummer Boy,” my head nearly exploded. You can see it on YouTube here.) My favorite part of the short piece is when Paul Reubens talks about his real agenda with Pee Wee’s Playhouse: “The show was really about celebrating diversity and saying it’s O.K. to be different in any way that you’re different, period. In seventh grade, I remember meeting these art kids who were, like, ‘Hey, you got a minute? Sit down! Have you ever heard of nonconformity? Listen, this is what it is!’ And, meanwhile, I’m, like, ‘You’re kidding. You mean there are people who want to be different?’ ”

In this week’s New Yorker: Campbell McGrath

January 5, 2010

For exhibit 19-A supporting my forthcoming treatise “Pleasure, Anesthesia, and the Burden of Consciousness,” see Campbell McGrath’s poem “Shopping for Pomegranates at Wal-Mart on New Year’s Day” in this week’s New Yorker. I especially enjoyed his description of television as “pixillated spirit glass.” And the mood he describes as “robed in sweat and melancholy” — been there! Read the whole poem here.