July 6, 2012 Windows on the World Binyavanga Wainaina, Nairobi, Kenya By Matteo Pericoli A series on what writers from around the world see from their windows. I have lived in this cramped little cottage near Ngong Forest in Nairobi for the past year. After many winters abroad, I find myself unable to work indoors. Nairobi gets very cold in June and July, but I like to work free of the prison of the house. I love the tingling pullover of night sounds and forest sounds and the bite of cold breeze and distant cars and stereos. Sometimes I close my eyes and sway my arms into patterns to move with the sensations of the strong bitpieces banging about in my temples. The bitpieces are almost always word-based moods. They live and die fast. When the bitpieces catch characters or a probable course of narrative action, my fingers start to keyboard peddle furiously. If I stop, the whole world crumbles. If the bitpiece world crumbles, I stop. Days, sometimes bad-mood weeks can go by before momentum is found again. Tennis helps. And fermented millet porridge. And my lover. —Binyavanga Wainaina [tweetbutton] [facebook_ilike]
July 6, 2012 This Week’s Reading What We’re Loving: Underwater Art, Analytic Philosophy, Betsy-Tacy By The Paris Review Two Paris Review editors in one New York Times magazine? That’s what I call a week in culture: Sadie Stein on Baby Bjorns and J. J. Sullivan on Faulkner. —Lorin Stein Like Jim Holt, I am convinced that some analytic philosophy is worth reading and rereading. If only one book could make the case, though, it would have to be Derek Parfit’s work of moral philosophy, Reasons and Persons. Almost thirty years old, it endures through a combination of novel thought and unimpeachable style. And, unlike much analytic philosophical writing, Parfit’s words have a vigorous sense of purpose, a compassion and focus reminiscent of Simone Weil and George Orwell. Favorite sections include teletransportation, indistinct selves, the repugnant conclusion, and the opening sentence: “Like my cat, I often simply do what I want to do.” —Tyler Bourgeois I am continually captivated by the underwater art of “eco-sculptor” Jason deCaires Taylor—or, rather, what happens to it. Taylor submerges his work—predominantly human figures—in the waters of the West Indies and in the Gulf of Mexico. Over time, the permanent installations come to act as artificial reefs, attracting corals, aggregating fish species, and increasing marine biomass. Most of Taylor’s figures stand with their faces upturned to the surface, their eyes closed, as they are silently and arrestingly overtaken by algae, sponges, and hydrozoans. The overall impression is one of indomitable spirit within metamorphosis: creatures coming to life. —Anna Hadfield Read More
July 6, 2012 On the Shelf Faulkner, Munro, and Bribery! By Sadie Stein A color-coded Sound and the Fury, just as Faulkner intended. Are girly themes having a moment? A beginner’s guide to Alice Munro. In defense of cursive. Oxford University Press is fined for bribery.
July 5, 2012 Softball TPR Softball: Failure’s No Success at All By Cody Wiewandt Somewhere a Hadada quietly weeps. It’s been a rough two weeks on the diamond for The Paris Review, culminating in an extra-inning loss to a venerable (cough) Harper’s side—a loss that had the ghost of George Plimpton clucking in disapproval. As the calendar flips to July and a once promising season slowly turns to shit, it has become apparent that we are simply not to be trusted. The talent is there, but it’s mercurial, slave to whim and whimsy. As a team we’ve adapted an identity that is generously enigmatic: although capable of lighting up any softball scoreboard in greater Manhattan, lately it seems that we are just trying to get our jerseys on. Read More
July 5, 2012 First Person On Uncle Vanya: Part Three By Clancy Martin But the reason I was telling this story was because I was reminded of that night in St. Petersburg when I saw Annie Baker’s adaptation of Uncle Vanya. Like Vanya and Astrov, I am middle-aged, a drunk, often despondent—perhaps I am having a midlife crisis—and yes, I am an adulterer. (Vanya and Astrov are only would-be adulterers.) At the time I was trying to pick up this Russian waitress—sitting drunk in the snow-covered park, watching a bear dance at the end of a short rope—I was already an adulterer. Two years before, I had left my first wife for my assistant, who worked in my jewelry store. I drank my way into that affair, and I would drink my way through the divorce. But the sad fact was I did not get to sleep with the Russian waitress. This is what actually happened. The man with the bear would not leave me alone. Read More
July 5, 2012 On the Shelf Austen’s Ring, Hemingway’s Endings By Sadie Stein A turquoise ring that once belonged to Jane Austen is on the block at Sotheby’s, accompanied by a note from Eleanor Austen to her daughter. Bookstores with cafés sell more reading material, figures suggest. Two more New York City bookstores, Washington Heights’s Word Up and Harlem’s Hue-Man, face closure. (The latter will continue as an online store.) Poet Simon Armitage crossed the Pennine Way as a modern troubadour, exchanging only verse for food and shelter. A new edition of A Farewell to Arms will contain Hemingway’s thirty-plus alternate endings. Celebrating Pie Week.