April 30, 2019 Arts & Culture The Siege of Clarice Lispector By Mike Broida In 1949, Clarice Lispector found herself in a bit of a funk, despite the effusive acclaim surrounding her first novel, Near to the Wild Heart, six years earlier. After the difficulty she’d faced getting her second novel, The Chandelier, published in 1946, her attempt to find a publisher for her third novel, The Besieged City, was proving no easier. The publisher of The Chandelier had rejected it, and so had many of Rio de Janeiro’s prestigious publishing houses. How was it that an author who had revolutionized Portuguese writing several years earlier, whose debut novel was praised as “the greatest novel a woman has ever written in the Portuguese language” suddenly couldn’t get her name in print? The Besieged City’s translation into English would be even more arduous—it is only arriving now, in 2019, seventy years after its initial publication and forty-two years after its author’s death. Read More
April 29, 2019 Arts & Culture Adonis’s Poems of Ruin and Renewal By Robyn Creswell Adonis. Photo: Mariusz Kubik (CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)). Adonis’s Songs of Mihyar the Damascene is the central book of poems in modern Arabic literature. Published in 1961, its status in Arabic is comparable to The Waste Land in English or Duino Elegies in German. (Adonis collaborated on a translation of Eliot’s long poem while writing Mihyar). Like those works of European high modernism, Adonis’s collection is poetry of large and explicit ambitions. It evokes classical, Koranic, and Biblical sources on almost every page, even when announcing its own originality. It is a work of visionary exultation and powerful melancholy. It imagines a world of blight and barrenness and picks through the ruins for hints of resurrection. At the heart of Adonis’s book is the grandly inscrutable figure of Mihyar. “He has no ancestors, his roots are in his footsteps,” intones the opening “Psalm.” The myth of a hero who emerges from his own self-conception is central to Mihyar’s persona, but no literary figure can escape precursors. Many critics have noted Mihyar’s resemblance to the eleventh-century poet, Mihyar al-Daylami, a Zoroastrian convert to Shiism whose poems were celebrated and censored for their extravagant metaphors (extravagant even by the standards of classical Arabic). Others have pointed to Nietzsche’s immoralist prophet, Zarathustra, who preached the death of God, the coming of the superman, and the eternal return of the same. Mihyar is certainly a figure of extravagance. “He is the physics of things, he knows them and gives them names he does not divulge.” And Mihyar is clearly a heretical prophet. He rejects the very premise of monotheism and is as likely to spurn his flock as to give it counsel. When he does speak, he doesn’t offer parables or warnings, but rather fragments of apocalyptic lyricism: Tomorrow, tomorrow in fire and spring You’ll know I’m the slayer of flocks, You’ll know I’m the sower of seeds, Tomorrow, tomorrow you’ll see me with your own two eyes. (“Your Eyes Didn’t See Me”) Read More
April 26, 2019 Arts & Culture Reframing Agnes By RL Goldberg A 1958 case study is widely believed to be “the first sociological case study of a transitioning person.” A new documentary short, premiering at Tribeca, finally allows Agnes to speak in her own words. Kristen Schilt. Photo: Dan Dry. In October 1958, a nineteen-year-old woman called Agnes approached the psychiatry department at UCLA, having been referred there by a physician in her hometown. “She was tall, slim, with a very female shape,” the sociologist Harold Garfinkel noted. “Her measurements were 38-25-28. She had long, fine dark-blonde hair, a young face with pretty features, a peaches-and-cream complexion, no facial hair, subtly plucked eyebrows, and no makeup except for lipstick.” Agnes arrived at UCLA seeking genital surgery for her self-described intersex condition. According to Agnes’s self-reporting, though she had apparently been born a boy, female secondary sex characteristics began to spontaneously develop during puberty. Extensive physical and endocrinological testing revealed her to have no obvious intersex condition; all the same, Agnes’s physical appearance assured doctors that she was, in fact, female. So Agnes became a patient—and subject—of Dr. Robert Stoller and Harold Garfinkel. At the time, Garfinkel was writing an ethnomethodology of how individuals make accountable aspects of daily life and interactions—that is, how individuals might give an account of their interactions. While doctors determined whether Agnes was an acceptable candidate for surgery, conversations between Agnes and Garfinkel were recorded and formed the basis of Garfinkel’s chapter “Passing and the Managed Achievement of Sex Status in an ‘Intersexed’ Person Part 1*.” This article is widely believed to be, in sociologist Kristen Schilt’s words, “the first sociological case study of a transitioning person.” Read More
April 26, 2019 Arts & Culture Clarissa Dalloway Is a Virgo By Alex Dimitrov and Dorothea Lasky Cover design by Oliver Hibert. In late November 2016, the poets Alex Dimitrov and Dorothea Lasky decided to bring their shared love of astrology and poetry to the world, and Astro Poets was born. They’ve since amassed hundreds of thousands of Twitter followers for their sharp, snappy takes on the signs, and this November, they’ll release their first book together, Astro Poets: Your Guides to the Zodiac. To celebrate the reveal of the book’s cover, Dimitrov and Lasky read the charts of some of literature’s most beloved (and reviled) characters. Aries: Janie Crawford (Their Eyes Were Watching God) Janie Crawford is the quintessential Aries: resilient, determined, and ready to take control of her own destiny. Taurus: Elizabeth Bennet (Pride and Prejudice) Elizabeth Bennet will marry for love, and she doesn’t care if that goes against convention, and she doesn’t care whom she’ll disappoint. She is the epitome of a Taurus: strong-minded and endlessly passionate. Read More
April 25, 2019 Arts & Culture What the Scientists Who Photographed the Black Hole Like to Read By Rebekah Frumkin On April 10, 2019, an international team of scientists working on a project called the Event Horizon Telescope (EHT) released an image of a supermassive black hole at the center of the galaxy Messier 87 (M87). Several years in the making, the image was created from data compiled by a number of telescopes spaced across the planet. The EHT team is a large and diverse group, including many early-career Ph.D. students and postdoctoral researchers from the U.S. and abroad. Rebekah Frumkin spoke to nine of those scientists, all in their twenties or early thirties, about what they like to read, how the black hole is like a work of art, and their advice for writers depicting black holes in their work. (Image: © EHT Collaboration) What kind of fiction or poetry do you like to read, and how has it influenced your research? Sara Issaoun: I like science fiction, the kind that either drifts toward realism or toward whimsy. I’m a big fan of Douglas Adams. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series is probably a classic for most astronomers. Daniel Palumbo: It is difficult for me to choose a particular genre of fiction, so I’ll just pick a recent favorite: Blood Meridian. I find insurmountably evil villains incredibly compelling, though the horror of this book is at times physically painful to read. In science, the situation is the opposite—astronomy is difficult not because of some malicious actor, but due to a cold, uncaring complexity with which humanity contends, largely for the joy of discovery. Michael Janssen: I like to read science fiction novels, for example Isaac Asimov. I want to really understand how our world and the universe work, and what mankind is capable of through technological advancements. Andrew Chael: I pretty consciously try to take Shevek, the main character of Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Dispossessed, as my model for how to act as a physicist. While his physics are a little iffy—or maybe just beyond our current understanding—his approach to research, teaching, and discovery is fundamentally generous while still being influenced by his personal ambition to go further than others have gone. The Dispossessed also points out that all science, even physics, is shaped by its social and political context. Read More
April 24, 2019 Arts & Culture Waterman Redux By Anthony Madrid Waterman at Cornell, 1926 There are times I am facetious in these articles. It’s not always perceived. Therefore, allow me to take a moment to clarify my last piece about the limericks of the poet Paul Waterman. I do not actually think Waterman was crazy, and neither do I think all, most, or even any of his limericks are gibberish. They all make sense. They’re obscure, that’s all. He was eccentric, that’s all. My first piece was written at an early stage of the Waterman Renaissance. It’s been three weeks; much has happened. As you can see from the photograph above, an image of Waterman has surfaced. He is roughly twenty-three years old in that picture. His dates are now known to be July 3, 1903–February 17, 1987. He went to Cornell on a scholarship. For a great many years he owned a small farm in a town called Maryland, New York. He had a twin brother, John Waterman, whom he outlived by twenty-five years. And he is now known to have published ten books, all of them poetry, all of them printed at his own expense: Boy for a Blonde (1932) Cabin for Two (1934) —twenty-one-year hiatus— Love to the Town (1955) —eight-year hiatus— The Limerick Trilogy: Mad Land of Limerick (1963) Those Brats from Limerick (1964) Five Lines to Limerick (1965) Four Books of Haiku: Wee Wings (1966) Brief Candles (1967) Whimseys [sic] (1968; second edition 1973) Thus and Now (1974) Read More