Last Week's New Yorker Review: đ„ The Weekend Special (October 20)
The Weekend Special
Pieces are given up to three Knapps (for fiction), Downeys (for essays), or Fords (for random picks). As with restaurant stars, even one Knapp, Downey, or Ford indicates a generally positive review.
đ„ Fiction
âIntimacyâ by AyĆegĂŒl SavaĆ. One Knapp. acquainted, accommodated, accident. SavaĆâ stories are usually quite tidy, bordering on deterministic â sheâs spoken of writing âfrom the point of view of [the] endingâ â whereas this is a deliberate attempt to do the opposite, to write paragraph by paragraph, ending up who-knows-where. It does not exactly result in a story of great changes; indeed, the psychological stasis of the speaker, who is self-conscious to a fault and whose neuroses are plain to see, limits how far the story can go, despite its frequent pivots. In other words, because the speaker is talking from after the events of the story have happened, but is still interpreting those events in much the same half-blinkered, anxious way, itâs hard to make much of the ending turn, when she wonders if sheâs âmissed some detailsâ. I appreciate the ongoing focus on aging and domesticity, subject matter which SavaĆ treats with heart but just enough you-canât-always-get-what-you-want disenchantedness to never seem condescending. As the narrative turns from the famous author to his wife to the speakerâs child, SavaĆ is clever and careful enough that meanings accumulate instead of narrowing; the ending, though, while a valiant attempt at a sidelong summation, doesnât land. If the speaker really had that little faith in herself, she would never have told her story this way. Still fascinating, multifaceted, well worth reading.
đ„ Weekend Essay
âThe Making of âAdaptationââ by Susan Orlean. Two Downeys. right, rights, ride. Orlean is always delightful, a natural wit; this very slim selection from her upcoming memoir only just whets the appetite, but even if you donât care about the Kaufman movie, there is enough amiable detail and rib-nudging to get you through. The whole plane, in this case, is made out of the anecdota; some are excellent (Deer Hunter cameo; costume-designer meeting) and only a few are duds (Orleanâs vanity is a charming thread running through all her work, but I still donât care that she put on purple lipstick at the premiere by mistake. Whatever she says, she still looked like Susan Orlean.) Orlean does not have a profound takeaway, but she definitely doesnât have to. The storyâs good enough.1
đ„ Random Pick
âHow to Be a Producerâ (Annals of Theatre) by Ian Parker. (November 4, 2002). No Fords. hook, harness, homey. Read one way, this is a brief and unrevealing profile of a woman who made a production career out of playing the middle. (She has lately been playing the middle with her immediate family, a Trumper husband and a #resister son.) Read another way, this is a slyly catty piece which damns Roth with its continual faint praise. Sheâs scored plenty of critical hits, but mostly by pandering to the middlebrow tastes of wealthy older white women like herself; she has produced masterpieces, but sheâs also produced more than a couple Left on Tenths. But the thesis of this piece is never really clear; the title promises answers Parker doesnât even try to deliver (unless youâre reading the second way, in which case the punchline is: Have money!) and even if weâre meant to roll our eyes at Roth, itâs not as though Parker makes a case for doing so for any reason other than pretentiousness. Since 2002, itâs become a bit clearer why it sucks to have people like Roth in charge of our city, regardless of their taste. If the theatre has a future, it surely isnât hers.
đ„ Something Extra
Sunday Song:
Extremely hot take: I also think itâs Meryl Streepâs best performance. â©