{"id":109698,"date":"2017-04-07T18:16:39","date_gmt":"2017-04-07T22:16:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=109698"},"modified":"2017-04-08T17:06:02","modified_gmt":"2017-04-08T21:06:02","slug":"staff-picks-mediums-midtown-hotels-mcgoorty","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2017\/04\/07\/staff-picks-mediums-midtown-hotels-mcgoorty\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Mediums, Midtown Hotels, McGoorty"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/a>

Still from Mediums<\/i>.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

After our Spring Revel this week, I woke up feeling like garbage\u2019s garbage. To ease the pain, I reached for Robert Byrne\u2019s McGoorty: A Pool Room Hustler<\/a><\/em>, a biography as greasy as a bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwich and just as good for my hangover. First published in 1972, this profane picaresque does a nice little cradle-to-grave number on Danny McGoorty, a real live Chicago pool shark, earthy and sly and often in extremis. In the twenties, he went from billiard room to billiard room, conning and swindling his way to a small fortune; in the thirties, he was a boxcar hobo; in the forties, he went pro and sobered up long enough to win a pool championship. What else do you need to know? Luc Sante reissued McGoorty<\/em> some years back as part of his Library of Larceny series, but it seems to have fallen out of print again. Won\u2019t someone please rescue McGoorty? He is unrepentantly ripe. As early as page three, he begins his prurient boasting about \u201cbroads\u201d: \u201cI was seventeen years old before I was able to get my finger damp enough to turn a page. Once I got started, though, I became quite the little cocksman.\u201d No doubt, McGoorty. No doubt. \u2014Dan Piepenbring<\/strong><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve been reading Sarah Gerard\u2019s new collection,\u00a0Sunshine State<\/a><\/em>, and trying to figure out why I\u2019m so intrigued by the way she writes about the confident na\u00efvet\u00e9 of youth. There\u2019s little to admire in, say, a blissed-out appreciation of a dubious guy in parachute pants, but Gerard, writing\u00a0in the essay \u201cRecords\u201d about her senior year of high school, sets sections about\u00a0pursuing vocal performance at her arts magnet school, with an eye toward a professional singing career, against drugged-out nights doing next to nothing. The contrast feels both irreconcilable and credible. Gerard\u2019s prose is unlabored, flatly observational, and the interwoven mini stories are at once tender and cold, exhilarating and regrettable\u2014each undermining the one that precedes it. In the best of these sections, almost a stand-alone story, Gerard travels to New York, from Florida, with her parents to visit colleges. She sneaks out of their midtown hotel at night and falls immediately prey to a pair of questionable older men. Seeing her camera, they tell her they shoot for\u00a0National Geographic.<\/em>\u00a0It\u2019s clear to the reader they do not; Gerard, at seventeen, is wide-eyed. They coerce her into taking a photograph of a couple\u00a0arguing outside a bar. When she develops the photo home, she feels \u201cafraid and ashamed looking at it, knowing this is not a picture I wanted to take; that I took it only because I was told to.\u201d\u00a0\u2014Nicole Rudick\u00a0<\/strong>
\n<\/p>\n

<\/a>

From the cover of Sunshine States<\/i>.<\/p><\/div>\n

I recently caught James N. Kienitz Wilkins\u2019s\u00a0Mediums<\/em>\u00a0as part of the Whitney Biennial<\/a> and found myself wishing I could watch it again and again. It\u2019s a short, rather conceptual film, no more than forty-five minutes long, but what\u2019s at play is remarkable: on the surface, it\u2019s about voir dire, jury selection. Wilkins blends scripted dialogue with long passages of text lifted verbatim from automotive manuals, jury pamphlets, franchise contracts, copyright\u00a0laws, et cetera\u2014documents brimming with facts. The effect is utterly bizarre and comical. The monologues\u2014delivered with gumption by actors I\u2019d never heard of\u2014feel absurdist, propagandist, a bit like public-service announcements. The film\u2019s title speaks to other restraints Wilkins has embraced:\u00a0he films strictly in medium shots, and he used the mean\u00a0of the actors\u2019 heights\u00a0to determine his camera placement. After the screening, Wilkins told the audience he\u2019d\u00a0probably\u00a0never make enough money to use \u201cbetter\u201d equipment. I hope that\u2019s true; the effect his work has is far more interesting than any big-budget film I\u2019ve seen this year. \u2014Caitlin Youngquist<\/strong><\/p>\n

In 1870, a group of Mormon women were among the most outspoken groups demanding women\u2019s suffrage\u2014and they were granted the vote, in part, as an extension of their campaign for plural marriage. In her latest book,\u00a0A House Full of Females: Plural Marriage and Women\u2019s Rights in Early Mormonism<\/a><\/em>, the historian Laurel Thatcher Ulrich goes back to the religion\u2019s beginning to show her readers why.\u00a0In 1842, the wives of Mormon elders formed the Female\u00a0Relief Society of\u00a0Nauvoo, intending to aid the poor. Men were suspicious of the group, whose members were known to \u201clay on hands\u201d\u2014a spiritual practice thought to belong to men. But they found an advocate in Joseph Smith, the church\u2019s founder, who reminded his followers that spiritual gifts were given to all believers, male or female. Thus\u00a0the Relief Society expanded the role of women in Mormonism, creating a proto-feminist space that culminated in 1870\u2019s \u201cindignation meeting,\u201d when thousands of women gathered in Salt Lake City to defend their right to plural marriage. With the nation watching, the Utah\u00a0legislature moved quickly, granting women the right to vote some fifty years before Congress\u00a0passed the nineteenth amendment.\u00a0The intimate portraits in A House Full of Females<\/em>\u00a0remind us that empowered communities arise in unlikely contexts. \u2014Jeffery Gleaves<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Percival Everett\u2019s story \u201cThe Appropriation of Cultures,\u201d from his 2004 collection Damned If I Do<\/a><\/em>, is about a young man who\u2019s inherited enough money to spend his days reading and playing guitar. He lives in Columbia, South Carolina, where, playing music one night at a bar, he faces a surly request from drunk frat bros, who demand to hear \u201cDixie\u201d; he plays it so artfully that they storm away in shame. Soon after, he buys an old truck with a Confederate flag decal on it; he drives it around town, angering swarthy white men and having a wry exchange with a BMW-driving lawyer. Confederate flags begin to proliferate: they\u2019re in the yards of black families, pinned on lapels, and flown at colleges. The culmination of this, in Everett\u2019s telling, is that the flag quietly disappears from the South Carolina State House. More than ten years after its publication, \u201cThe Appropriation of Culture\u201d is eerily timely, and, in its plainness, both radical and not. It\u2019s a story about normalization and perspective, omission and inclusion, that remains very much worth reading. \u2014Noah Dow<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In this week\u2019s staff picks: Sarah Gerard, Percival Everett, and an old-time pool shark named McGoorty.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[438],"tags":[28261,28262,28260,28257,28137,19841,28258,18680,28259,28263,4290],"class_list":["post-109698","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-a-house-full-of-females","tag-damned-if-i-do","tag-james-n-kienitz-wilkins","tag-mcgoorty-a-pool-room-hustler","tag-medium","tag-percival-everett","tag-robert-byrne","tag-sarah-gerard","tag-sunshine-state","tag-the-appropriation-of-cultures","tag-whitney-biennial"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nStaff Picks: McGoorty the Pool Shark, Sarah Gerard, Percival Everett<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"What the staff of The Paris Review is reading this week.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2017\/04\/07\/staff-picks-mediums-midtown-hotels-mcgoorty\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Staff Picks: Mediums, Midtown Hotels, McGoorty by The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"April 7, 2017 \u2013 In this week\u2019s staff picks: Sarah Gerard, Percival Everett, and an old-time pool shark named McGoorty.\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2017\/04\/07\/staff-picks-mediums-midtown-hotels-mcgoorty\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2017-04-07T22:16:39+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2017-04-08T21:06:02+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/04\/mediums-still-03.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"900\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"486\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"5 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2017\/04\/07\/staff-picks-mediums-midtown-hotels-mcgoorty\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2017\/04\/07\/staff-picks-mediums-midtown-hotels-mcgoorty\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"The Paris Review\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/4a14f739935c82f100675b84e220252e\"},\"headline\":\"Staff Picks: Mediums, Midtown Hotels, McGoorty\",\"datePublished\":\"2017-04-07T22:16:39+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2017-04-08T21:06:02+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2017\/04\/07\/staff-picks-mediums-midtown-hotels-mcgoorty\/\"},\"wordCount\":1065,\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2017\/04\/07\/staff-picks-mediums-midtown-hotels-mcgoorty\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/04\/mediums-still-03.jpg\",\"keywords\":[\"A House Full of Females\",\"Damned If I Do\",\"James N. 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