Posts Tagged ‘louis menand’

Quote of the day: MYERS-BRIGGS

September 10, 2018


The key to the [Myers-Briggs Type Indicator’s] success is [Briggs’] insight that you can waste a lot of energy and bring on a lot of psychic pain if you think of these differences as incompatibilities that have to be ironed out. The differences are innate, and each type of personality is as “normal” as the others. There is no better way to be—logical or emotional, spontaneous or organized, party bro or brooder. These are not imperfections to be corrected. They are hardwired dispositions to be recognized and accommodated.

–Louis Menand, “Can You Type?” in the New Yorker

Isabel Myers and Katharine Briggs

In this week’s New Yorker

July 4, 2013

moment of joy
In addition to the heart-tugging cover image (Jack Hunter’s “Moment of Joy”), lots of substance:

* Patrick Radden Keefe’s Reporter at Large piece on mining and corruption in Guinea, focusing on an Israeli billionaire named Beny Steinmetz;

* Jeffrey Bartholet’s Letter from Dharamsala contemplating the legacy and spreading of Tibet’s self-immolation protests;


* “The Prodigal Daughter,” a beautifully written piece by Jill Lepore about her life as a writer, her mother’s aspirations for her, and the life of Benjamin Franklin’s sister, Jane;

* Louis Menand’s vividly detailed summary of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 — how it evolved, its importance, what the Supreme Court’s ruling last week means; and

* an Annals of Technology piece by Nicholson Baker, who memorably described the iPad as a “slip-sliding rectangle of joy” and in this article travels to Korea on a pilgrimage to the world’s center of manufacturing liquid-crystal display (LCD) products, another beautifully written piece. Sample: “In a Best Buy one Sunday afternoon, standing in front of the wall of TVs in the back, I thought, Just look at all these incredible screens. We take for granted that we can drive to a nearby chain store and buy a thin, luminous, elegant, unflickering dispenser of imagery that will make the world seem newly hosed clean and polyurethaned, that will melt the finely fringed nerve endings of our pleasure centers, all for several hundred dollars.”

Quote of the day: LIFE-CHANGING HANDJ0B

June 28, 2012


[James] Joyce’s favorite writer was Dante, another exile, who created a verbal universe that he populated with old Florentine comrades and enemies, each caricatured with exquisite precision for all time, and who placed at the center of his imaginary cosmos a woman he had fallen in love with after seeing her on the street, Beatrice Portinari.

Joyce’s Beatrice, of course, was Nora [Barnacle]. She came from Galway, and was working as a chambermaid at Finn’s Hotel, in Dublin, when he saw her walking along Nassau Street in a manner suggesting that she was approachable. “Sauntering” is how Joyce later described it. He duly approached, and asked her for a date. She agreed, but stood him up. He sent her a note. “I went home quite dejected,” it said. “I would like to make an appointment but it might not suit you. I hope you will be kind enough to make one with me—if you have not forgotten me!” This time, they did meet. They walked to Ringsend, on the south bank of the Liffey, where (and here we can drop the Dante analogy) she put her hand inside his trousers and masturbated him. It was June 16, 1904, the day on which Joyce set “Ulysses.” When people celebrate Bloomsday, that is what they are celebrating.

— Louis Menand in The New Yorker


In this week’s New Yorker

June 28, 2012

Quirky fun issue that centers on four very detailed fact pieces: Patricia Marx on scavenger hunt mania at the University of Chicago; John McPhee gleefully cycling into print a long string of obscenity-laden passages that previous editors (including the famously squeamish Mister Shawn) deemed “not for us,” including a bravura extended account by McPhee of what goes on at a stud farm; William Finnegan making sense while writing about the ultra-complicated interplay of drugs and politics in Guadelajara; and Calvin Tomkin masterfully profiling Nick Serota, director of the Tate Modern museum in London. Louis Menand also contributes a very fine piece on the art of writing biographies of James Joyce. (See Quote of the Day.)

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