Author Topic: In the New Yorker...  (Read 1922198 times)

Offline Front-Ranger

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Re: In the New Yorker...
« Reply #530 on: August 26, 2012, 08:36:25 pm »
This quote from the violinist Christian Tetzlaff was wonderful:

"Bach's music confronts the player and the audinece in a very personal situation, in a very alone way. And I try at that moment to put away pretensions of being a strong man, of being invulnerable--and instead say, 'This is where all of us have common ground.' Most of the time, we try to tell ourselves 'I'm confident' or 'I'm doing well'. But then, in a moment alone at home, you feel how close you are to some kind of abyss.

Music, even at terrible moments, can make you accept so much more--accept your dark sides, or the things that happen to you. Maybe it's just because you see that this is a common trait for all of us. You see that we are not alone.

. ...It's about communication. I almost want to say communion, As a player, you really don't interpret anymore. You listen, together with the audience."
"chewing gum and duct tape"

Offline serious crayons

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Re: In the New Yorker...
« Reply #531 on: August 27, 2012, 12:45:20 am »
This is how much I like Atul Gawande and the New Yorker. I was still reading his defense, from an issue ago, of "Cheesecake Factory"-style medical delivery. When the latest issue came, I paged immediately to the comments section because I knew there'd be some experts writing in to poke holes in his theory. And there were, but I think his theory still holds up.


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Re: In the New Yorker...
« Reply #532 on: August 27, 2012, 04:02:38 pm »
Did anyone read the article about the neurologist Oliver Sacks's intense experience with psychotropic drugs? As I read through it, I thought about James Holmes, the neurology student who went off the deep end and killed or wounded 80 people in Aurora, Colorado, wondering if he had also experimented with chemicals as Sacks did. I was relieved at the happy ending to the article.
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Offline serious crayons

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Re: In the New Yorker...
« Reply #533 on: August 27, 2012, 10:58:52 pm »
Did anyone read the article about the neurologist Oliver Sacks's intense experience with psychotropic drugs? As I read through it, I thought about James Holmes, the neurology student who went off the deep end and killed or wounded 80 people in Aurora, Colorado, wondering if he had also experimented with chemicals as Sacks did. I was relieved at the happy ending to the article.

I know! I figured it had a happy ending, since of course Sacks went on to a brilliant career. But that sounded like an awful lot of drugs. And powerful ones.


Offline Jeff Wrangler

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Re: In the New Yorker...
« Reply #534 on: August 29, 2012, 01:11:01 pm »
I always read Jane Mayer. Her article on Obama and campaign financing is horribly depressing, but I did have one chuckle, wondering to myself, What would Mr. Shawn have said about a sentence like this:

"[Chris] Hughes and his husband, Sean Eldridge, have decided not to give money to any SuperPACs. ..."

(Boldface obviously added.)

 ;D

"It is required of every man that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide."--Charles Dickens.

Offline serious crayons

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Re: In the New Yorker...
« Reply #535 on: August 29, 2012, 01:20:06 pm »
wondering to myself, What would Mr. Shawn have said about a sentence like this:

I was just wondering the exact same thing about Lena Dunham's profanity-riddled essay in the Aug. 13/20 issue. Sample sentence: "What the fuck is this shit?"




Offline Jeff Wrangler

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Re: In the New Yorker...
« Reply #536 on: August 29, 2012, 02:01:01 pm »
I was just wondering the exact same thing about Lena Dunham's profanity-riddled essay in the Aug. 13/20 issue. Sample sentence: "What the fuck is this shit?"

(Nods head) I remember thinking more or less the same thing when I read that piece.
"It is required of every man that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide."--Charles Dickens.

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Re: In the New Yorker...
« Reply #537 on: August 31, 2012, 03:11:14 pm »
Loved the "Bromance" cover in this week's issue. And "How to Win at Conversations" by Paul Simms made me laugh out loud!! (LOL)  :laugh:
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Re: In the New Yorker...
« Reply #538 on: September 01, 2012, 05:12:08 pm »
I'm sure I've said somewhere along the line that I'm not much for the short fiction in The New Yorker, but on the other hand, I do always read Alice Munro. I recommend her story in the current (Aug. 27) issue.

It was a good story; however, I'm getting a little tired of Munro's often used theme. What's wrong with Canadian men anyway that they are always taking advantage of women so? I also read the T. C. Boyle story in this week's issue, (Something) Wood. It started out promisingly but ended strangely, as if he had to rush off to an appointment.
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Offline serious crayons

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Re: In the New Yorker...
« Reply #539 on: September 01, 2012, 09:42:03 pm »
It was a good story; however, I'm getting a little tired of Munro's often used theme. What's wrong with Canadian men anyway that they are always taking advantage of women so? I also read the T. C. Boyle story in this week's issue, (Something) Wood. It started out promisingly but ended strangely, as if he had to rush off to an appointment.

I have something terrible to confess: I never really "get" Alice Munro. She's revered among all writers, but I read her stories and come to the end and think, "OK, so?" I know -- shameful! Also, from what I've read of her she sounds very nice. I'd probably like her. What's wrong with me?

T.C. Boyle I have much better luck with. He exudes such authorial authority that he usually carries me along. But I haven't yet read, or seen, the story you mentioned. And I did bail on his fairly recent George Saunderish one about the giant guy in some Latin American dictatorship being kept in captivity for breeding a race of giants.

Fiction used to be the part of the New Yorker I would most reliably read (well, that and movie reviews). Now I rarely read it unless at first glance it looks easy (lots of dialogue and short paragraphs) and short. I rarely read stories that refer to their protagonists primarily by their last names. I rarely read stories with long paragraphs of dialogueless prose. I rarely read stories unless I can get into them within the first couple of paragraphs.

Now the parts of the New Yorker I most reliably read are still movie reviews (especially Anthony Lane's), James Surewiecki's (sp?) columns, the main editorial if I'm interested in the topic, Shouts and Murmurs (unless I start them and they seem too far-fetched -- I love Bob Odenkirk on Breaking Bad, but his recent S&M lost me midway through). The book reviews sometimes, if I have any interest in the book.

After that, it's hit and miss depending on the writer and subject.