John Ashbery, Eleven Collages. From issue. no 188 (Spring 2009).
Today is Election Day in the United States, the second midterm referendum on the second Trump administration and, given that polls on the West Coast won’t close until eleven this evening, it’s certain to be a long night of scanning the news. If you, like us, have spent the past week, month, year, reading polls, articles, and tea leaves, gaming out the chances that one party may win this or that Senate or House seat, you may, like us, now find yourself in need of some way to kill the next twelve or so hours. Here’s some loosely midterms-adjacent reading from the archive to help you pass the time.
PROSE A Town Like Kansas Diane Vreuls
Last night I gave up sex, a political decision. Maria will not leave the convent for Baron von Trapp. She is up on the mountaintop singing. What is the highest point in Kansas?
From issue no. 72 (Winter 1977)
PROSE Why Visit America Matthew Baker
There wasn’t anything special about us. We were just an average town. Porch swings, wading pools, split rail fences, pump jacks bobbing for oil on the horizon. Meetings at town hall were well attended, sure, but we weren’t some hotbed of insurgents. We didn’t subscribe to any one brand of politics. We couldn’t even be plotted onto your basic left/right binary. Our town had everything: pro-lifers who supported gay marriage, pro-choicers who opposed gay marriage, climate change deniers who owned solar panels, universal health care campaigners who preferred private insurance, creationists with degrees in biology and geology, loyal conservatives, staunch liberals, moderates, radicals, and ornery retirees whose only real issue was guns. And yet that winter we found ourselves united by a common sentiment. We were fed up with our country. The executives were busy making donations that funded the campaigns of the politicians, the politicians were busy passing laws that protected the interests of the executives, and pretty much nothing else seemed to be getting done. We were antigovernment, we were anticorporate, but mostly we were normal people who couldn’t afford to buy an election and had come to understand that our votes didn’t mean shit. There were libertarians among us who had been pushing to secede for years now, but not until that winter, watching legal forms of graft being flaunted across the country like never before, did our town seriously begin to consider the proposition. The matter soon came to dominate our meetings. We knew that from a certain perspective seceding could be viewed as an act of treason, that it might mean arrest, might mean imprisonment, might even mean execution. And the debate at that final town hall meeting was appropriately heated. Most of us wavered, unsure which way we would vote until the very second those slips of paper got passed around. Several of us were so nervous that we felt faint. Ultimately, however, the decision was unanimous. We would rather face handcuffs, jail, even hanging, than spend another goddamned second living in that broke-down country. We voted to secede.
From issue 230 (Fall 2019)
INTERVIEW The Art of Fiction No. 237 Dany Laferrière
INTERVIEWER Your mother once compared you to your father by saying that you have a terrible appetite for life. LAFERRIÈRE Yes. My father was a politician and a political activist and a dandy. He would change shirts at least twice or three times a day. He was the youngest-ever mayor of Port-au-Prince.
INTERVIEWER
Your mother once compared you to your father by saying that you have a terrible appetite for life.
LAFERRIÈRE
Yes. My father was a politician and a political activist and a dandy. He would change shirts at least twice or three times a day. He was the youngest-ever mayor of Port-au-Prince.
From issue no. 222 (Fall 2017)
THE DAILY For Our Cause Is Just Lydia Moland
“I am not yet prepared to believe that the people of this republic are corrupt enough to choose by fair and honest votes, such a blot upon humanity as Andrew Jackson,” Lydia Maria Child wrote to her new mother-in-law in the early months after Jackson’s election in 1828 … She did not contest the election: the votes had been “fair and honest.” Why, then, did she call her fellow citizens “corrupt”?
From July 2017
THE DAILY Joan Quigley, Ronald Reagan’s Guide to the Stars Jessica Weisberg
“Virtually every major move and decision the Reagans made during my time as White House Chief of Staff was cleared in advance with this woman in San Francisco who drew up horoscopes to make certain that the planets were in a favorable alignment for the enterprise,” writes Don Regan, President Reagan’s chief of staff, in his memoir, For the Record. Regan kept a color-coded calendar on his desk, with “good” days highlighted in green and “bad” days highlighted in red. Here’s the calendar for the first few months of 1986: Jan 16–23 very bad Jan 20 nothing outside the WH—possible attempt Feb 20–26 be careful March 7–14 bad period March 10–14 no outside activity March 16 very bad March 21 no March 27 no March 12–19 no trips exposure March 19–25 no public exposure April 1 careful April 11 careful April 17 careful April 21–28 stay home
“Virtually every major move and decision the Reagans made during my time as White House Chief of Staff was cleared in advance with this woman in San Francisco who drew up horoscopes to make certain that the planets were in a favorable alignment for the enterprise,” writes Don Regan, President Reagan’s chief of staff, in his memoir, For the Record. Regan kept a color-coded calendar on his desk, with “good” days highlighted in green and “bad” days highlighted in red. Here’s the calendar for the first few months of 1986:
Jan 16–23 very bad Jan 20 nothing outside the WH—possible attempt Feb 20–26 be careful March 7–14 bad period March 10–14 no outside activity March 16 very bad March 21 no March 27 no March 12–19 no trips exposure March 19–25 no public exposure April 1 careful April 11 careful April 17 careful April 21–28 stay home
From June 2018
INTERVIEW The Art of Fiction No. 7 Joyce Cary
INTERVIEWER Are the political aspects of your work controlled by the same ideas? CARY Religion is organized to satisfy and guide the soul—politics does the same thing for the body. Of course they overlap—this is a very rough description. But the politician is responsible for law, for physical security, and in a world of tumult, of perpetual conflict, he has the alternatives, roughly again, of persuading people or shooting them. In the democracies, we persuade. And this gives great power to the spellbinder, the artist in words, the preacher, the demagogue, whatever you call him. Rousseau, Marx, Tolstoy, these were great spellbinders—as well as Lacordaire. My Nimmo is a typical spellbinder. Bonser was a spellbinder in business, the man of imagination. He was also a crook, but so are many spellbinders. Poets have started most of the revolutions, especially nationalist revolutions. On the other hand, life would die without poets, and democracy must have its spellbinders.
Are the political aspects of your work controlled by the same ideas?
CARY
Religion is organized to satisfy and guide the soul—politics does the same thing for the body. Of course they overlap—this is a very rough description. But the politician is responsible for law, for physical security, and in a world of tumult, of perpetual conflict, he has the alternatives, roughly again, of persuading people or shooting them. In the democracies, we persuade. And this gives great power to the spellbinder, the artist in words, the preacher, the demagogue, whatever you call him. Rousseau, Marx, Tolstoy, these were great spellbinders—as well as Lacordaire. My Nimmo is a typical spellbinder. Bonser was a spellbinder in business, the man of imagination. He was also a crook, but so are many spellbinders. Poets have started most of the revolutions, especially nationalist revolutions. On the other hand, life would die without poets, and democracy must have its spellbinders.
From issue no. 7 (Fall–Winter 1954–1955)
THE DAILY A Number of Reasons I’ve Been Depressed Lately David Sedaris
On Inauguration Day, I am in Seattle. Late in the afternoon, my old friend Lyn sends me a photo of an anti-Trump sticker someone found in Japan. It’s cleverly designed: three peaks that on second glance turn out to be Trump sandwiched between two Klansmen. I want to write back and say, Ha, but instead, as a joke, I respond, “Dear Lyn, I’m sorry you’re so opposed to change, or too small-minded to move past your narrow assumptions. In the future, I’d appreciate your keeping things like this to yourself. David” A minute later, I send a follow-up email that says, “Just kidding.” And it bounces back, as do the next three emails I send. She’s blocked me! I realize. After thirty-eight years of friendship!
On Inauguration Day, I am in Seattle. Late in the afternoon, my old friend Lyn sends me a photo of an anti-Trump sticker someone found in Japan. It’s cleverly designed: three peaks that on second glance turn out to be Trump sandwiched between two Klansmen. I want to write back and say, Ha, but instead, as a joke, I respond, “Dear Lyn, I’m sorry you’re so opposed to change, or too small-minded to move past your narrow assumptions. In the future, I’d appreciate your keeping things like this to yourself. David”
A minute later, I send a follow-up email that says, “Just kidding.” And it bounces back, as do the next three emails I send. She’s blocked me! I realize. After thirty-eight years of friendship!
From June 2017
INTERVIEW The Art of Poetry No. 102 Claudia Rankine
RANKINE The relationship between public engagement and private thought are inseparable for me. I worked on Citizen on and off for almost ten years. I wrote the first piece in response to Hurricane Katrina. I was profoundly moved by the events in New Orleans as they unfolded. John and I taped the CNN coverage of the storm without any real sense of what we intended to do with the material. I didn’t think, obviously, that I was working on Citizen. But for me, there is no push and pull. There’s no private world that doesn’t include the dynamics of my political and social world. When I am working privately, my process includes a sense of what is happening in the world. Today, for example, I feel incredibly drained. And probably you do, too.
RANKINE
The relationship between public engagement and private thought are inseparable for me. I worked on Citizen on and off for almost ten years. I wrote the first piece in response to Hurricane Katrina. I was profoundly moved by the events in New Orleans as they unfolded. John and I taped the CNN coverage of the storm without any real sense of what we intended to do with the material. I didn’t think, obviously, that I was working on Citizen.
But for me, there is no push and pull. There’s no private world that doesn’t include the dynamics of my political and social world. When I am working privately, my process includes a sense of what is happening in the world. Today, for example, I feel incredibly drained. And probably you do, too.
From issue no. 219 (Winter 2016)
ART Amazing But True Joe Brainard
From issue no. 53 (Winter 1972)
POETRY Bangor Timothy Donnelly
Poor Aunt Midge, who: 1. refused to change however times did; 2. spread a) expansive memories through Maine and b) jarred orange marmalade on scones; having lived: 3. equally for a) pearls and b) perms, and 4. beside the phone, one longish life led out in Bangor, one brain gone stale as loaves of store-bought bread, has died. December twenty-four and “she is dead”
Poor Aunt Midge, who: 1. refused to change however times did; 2. spread a) expansive memories through Maine and b) jarred orange marmalade on scones; having lived: 3. equally for a) pearls and b) perms, and 4. beside the phone, one longish life led out in Bangor, one brain gone stale as loaves of store-bought bread,
has died. December twenty-four and “she is dead”
From issue no. 153 (Winter 1999)
INTERVIEW The Art of Biography No. 5 Robert Caro
CARO
I thought, There’s one guy who’s with Lyndon Johnson most of the day, and it’s not his campaign manager, it’s his chauffeur! Because in the Texas Hill Country, a lot of anything is driving—that’s ninety percent of the time. His chauffeur was a guy named Carroll Keach. He lived in some place outside Corpus Christi, and it was hard to get to. It was, like, a 180-mile drive or something. But I kept going back to him. He wasn’t a loquacious Texan, he was a laconic Texan. I would ask, What was Johnson doing between campaign stops? And he would say something like, Oh, he was just sitting there in the backseat. I just had to keep asking him questions. I mean, you’re driving, Carroll, and Lyndon Johnson is in the backseat? What was he doing in the backseat? Finally, he told me that Johnson often would be talking to himself. So I’d call and say, Carroll, when you said he was talking to himself, what was he saying? Finally, Carroll told me, It was like he was having discussions with himself about whether he had had a successful day, and if he had made a good impression on voters or not … Johnson would say, Boy, wasn’t that dumb! You know you just lost that ballot box. You lost it, and you need it. And he would talk out—rehearse, over and over, out loud, what he would say to the voters in that precinct the next time.
I thought, There’s one guy who’s with Lyndon Johnson most of the day, and it’s not his campaign manager, it’s his chauffeur! Because in the Texas Hill Country, a lot of anything is driving—that’s ninety percent of the time. His chauffeur was a guy named Carroll Keach. He lived in some place outside Corpus Christi, and it was hard to get to. It was, like, a 180-mile drive or something. But I kept going back to him.
He wasn’t a loquacious Texan, he was a laconic Texan. I would ask, What was Johnson doing between campaign stops? And he would say something like, Oh, he was just sitting there in the backseat. I just had to keep asking him questions. I mean, you’re driving, Carroll, and Lyndon Johnson is in the backseat? What was he doing in the backseat? Finally, he told me that Johnson often would be talking to himself. So I’d call and say, Carroll, when you said he was talking to himself, what was he saying? Finally, Carroll told me, It was like he was having discussions with himself about whether he had had a successful day, and if he had made a good impression on voters or not … Johnson would say, Boy, wasn’t that dumb! You know you just lost that ballot box. You lost it, and you need it. And he would talk out—rehearse, over and over, out loud, what he would say to the voters in that precinct the next time.
From issue no. 2016 (Spring 2016)
THE DAILY Texas Forever Adam Wilson
I’m a Reagan baby, a product of recession, later reared in the economically secure Clinton nineties, in a McMansioned suburb of the Eastern Seaboard. Our athletes—statuesque Celtics and sinewy Red Sox—were billboarded, televised, and extra-life-sized for us to admire as we turned into populist fist-pumpers in the soft reflection of our screens.
From July 2011
INTERVIEW The Art of Theater No. 2 Arthur Miller
I always drew a lot of inspiration from politics, from one or another kind of national struggle. You live in the world even though you only vote once in a while. It determines the extensions of your personality. I lived through the McCarthy time, when one saw personalities shifting and changing before one’s eyes, as a direct, obvious result of a political situation. And had it gone on, we would have gotten a whole new American personality—which in part we have … Such a pall of fright was laid upon us that it truly deflected the American mind. It’s part of a paranoia which we haven’t escaped yet. Good God, people still give their lives for it; look what we’re doing in the Pacific.
From issue no. 38 (Summer 1966)
INTERVIEW The Art of Fiction No. 236 Ali Smith
Are you a nationalist? SMITH I’m not. From issue no. 221 (Summer 2017)
Are you a nationalist?
SMITH
I’m not.
From issue no. 221 (Summer 2017)
POETRY Letter from Kitty Dukakis: Between the Election and the Breakdown Rick Adang
They called it a landslide as though everything shifted and the weak and strong alike were buried alive. Not true. We simply came home.
From issue no. 130 (Spring 1994)
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