{"id":107654,"date":"2017-02-13T09:47:54","date_gmt":"2017-02-13T14:47:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=107654"},"modified":"2017-02-13T12:08:48","modified_gmt":"2017-02-13T17:08:48","slug":"buy-yourself-some-old-seeds-and-other-news","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2017\/02\/13\/buy-yourself-some-old-seeds-and-other-news\/","title":{"rendered":"Buy Yourself Some Old Seeds, and Other News"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_107655\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/sil08-0029-2.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-107655\" class=\"wp-image-107655\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/sil08-0029-2.jpg\" width=\"1000\" height=\"743\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/sil08-0029-2.jpg 1346w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/sil08-0029-2-300x223.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/sil08-0029-2-768x571.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/sil08-0029-2-1024x761.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-107655\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">A vintage ad for a seed catalog.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<ul>\n<li>All writers are spies, but some of them, not unreasonably, want to do it full-time: it\u2019s generally more lucrative than the \u201cauthorship\u201d game, and it gets you out of the house, often armed. Few would be totally surprised, then, to learn that Ernest Hemingway had a yen\u00a0to practice espionage. Nicholas Reynolds, a military historian, alleges in his book <em>Writer, Sailor, Soldier, Spy <\/em>(see what he did there?) that Papa was a double agent, snooping around on behalf of the Commies and Uncle Sam: another lost soul in that vast miasma we call the twentieth century. Andrew O\u2019Hagan writes of the new book: \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/www.lrb.co.uk\/v39\/n04\/andrew-ohagan\/short-cuts\" target=\"_blank\">Reynolds looks among the shadows and finds a Hemingway not seen before, a man out of control and out of focus, a man in bits<\/a> \u2026 What is Hemingway alleged to have done as a spy? We know that, in 1937, at another hotel in Madrid, he had a drink\u2014vodka and Spanish brandy\u2014with that \u2018representative of the diabolical Russia\u2019, the NKVD chief Alexander Orlov. (Politics didn\u2019t come up but they talked about their shared interest in guns.) Other evidence? That during the Second World War he set up a counterintelligence bureau in Havana. The American diplomat Robert Joyce told Hemingway\u2019s biographer Carlos Baker that Hemingway was willing to pay for it himself. It is further alleged that he set up the Crook Factory, to keep an eye on enemy aliens in Cuba, and put his beloved, thirty-eight-foot fishing vessel\u00a0<em>Pilar\u00a0<\/em>out to sea as a scout for German U-boats. In a letter to Malcolm Cowley, Hemingway wrote that he aimed to be \u2018a secret agent of my government\u2019 but when it comes to the Soviets, there\u2019s a lot of \u2018reaching out\u2019 and alleged meetings, but facts about him actually engaging in operations are thin on the ground.\u201d<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<ul>\n<li>The author is just a single person, and you know how single people are: writhing with subconscious prejudices, pacing this earth with ever-larger blind spots, accumulating more ignorance by the day. The most well-intentioned writers, especially of fiction for young people, have begun to concede that their work can\u2019t be done alone if it\u2019s to be done properly; hence the rise of the \u201csensitivity reader,\u201d a kind of paid shoulder angel, poring over your manuscript to disabuse you of your tone-deafness. Katy Waldman writes, \u201c<a href=\"http:\/\/www.slate.com\/articles\/arts\/culturebox\/2017\/02\/how_sensitivity_readers_from_minority_groups_are_changing_the_book_publishing.html\" target=\"_blank\">Hired by individual authors or by publishing houses, sensitivity readers are members of a minority group tasked specifically with examining manuscripts for hurtful, inaccurate, or inappropriate depictions of that group<\/a> \u2026 Some sensitivity readers draw distinctions between offensive descriptions and offensive descriptions that appear to enjoy the blessing of the author \u2026 Still, it\u2019s a messy project for one reader to suss out authorial intent. While sensitivity remains a positive value in most literature, and perhaps one of the greatest priorities for young adult literature, enforcing it at the expense of other merits, including invention, humor, or shock, might come at a cost. Cultural sensitivities fluctuate over time. What will the readers of the future make of ours?\u201d<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<ul>\n<li>Willy Blackmore recommends you take a good look at seed catalogs\u2014come for the horticulture, stay for the history, he says: \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/2017\/02\/02\/magazine\/letter-of-recommendation-seed-catalogs.html\" target=\"_blank\">Smuggled inside these booklets, along with the awkward photos of farmers posing next to comically large crops, are tiny narratives that manage to encompass nearly the entirety of human history and the vast complexity of American identity<\/a>. You can read about\u2014and buy seeds for\u2014the crops Thomas Jefferson farmed at Monticello. You choose among beans that have been cultivated in North America since before Christopher Columbus crossed the Atlantic and others, like those carried by Cherokee Indians along the Trail of Tears, colored by the horrors that followed his arrival. There are seeds for <em>Origanum syriacum<\/em>, a relative of oregano mentioned in the Bible, which grows wild across the rocky hills of Israel and Palestine and is used in the spice blend za\u2019atar that seasons cuisine throughout the Middle East.\u201d<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<ul>\n<li>Claire Jarvis on the harrowing anxiety that came with being a new mother: \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/nplusonemag.com\/online-only\/online-only\/woman-problems\/\" target=\"_blank\">When my son was almost four\u00a0months old, I was walking down the street with him strapped to my chest<\/a>. He was big\u2014nineteen pounds\u2014and alert. I was walking slowly, in loping, elephantine strides, trying to take as long as possible, and to walk as securely as possible. It had taken me a long time to get this confident\u2014if that\u2019s what you could call it\u2014walking with him, but the thread of fear still lived in me. I was still anxious. Then, all of a sudden, I couldn\u2019t tell if I was real or not. That was how rapidly it happened, and this is what it was like. One moment, walking. The next\u2014am I real? I have always been anxious. But I have never had an experience like this before. I have always known what side of reality I was on. But this happened, and this is what it is like: It is like I am made of cardboard, badly painted with thick tempura paint, and set out walking.\u201d<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<ul>\n<li>In his grandparents\u2019 dilapidated shack in Alleghany, Virginia, Christopher King remembers discovering an old record that got him into the blues, \u201cDark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground\u201d: \u201c<a href=\"http:\/\/www.oxfordamerican.org\/magazine\/item\/1091-unearthly-laments\" target=\"_blank\">This was the record\u2014among a few others\u2014that taught me how to listen for the imperceptible, for the sounds that unlocked things<\/a>. Played in the key of D, the piece follows the major pentatonic scale\u2014with an open note, the low bass D, acting as a dark tonal center\u2014yet lightly touches the minor pentatonic in the same key. The music floats freely with no beat, no rhythm, no time signature. Everything holds together and falls apart at the same instant. Moans and sighs parallel the guitar phrases, but there are no coherent vocals: only suggestions of agony. As the bottleneck wisps along the strings, repeated patterns and motifs, like the sounds of weeping and mourning, emerge from the guitar. A languid vibrato punctuates almost every phrase, and the passages themselves are repeated insistently. Every note and every space without a note is intentional; nothing is wasted.\u201d<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>In today\u2019s roundup: the stories in seed catalogs, Ernest Hemingway the double agent, the rise of sensitivity readers, and more.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":38,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2512],"tags":[7009,9489,23867,189,571,2861,1572,46,1718,27236,27235,8812,21803,6737],"class_list":["post-107654","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-on-the-shelf","tag-anxiety","tag-babies","tag-blues","tag-children","tag-ernest-hemingway","tag-history","tag-motherhood","tag-music","tag-records","tag-seed-catalogs","tag-sensitivity-readers","tag-spies","tag-spying","tag-virginia"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin 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