{"id":133987,"date":"2019-03-01T13:31:25","date_gmt":"2019-03-01T18:31:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=133987"},"modified":"2019-03-01T14:58:19","modified_gmt":"2019-03-01T19:58:19","slug":"staff-picks-hauntings-hollywood-and-home","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/03\/01\/staff-picks-hauntings-hollywood-and-home\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Hauntings, Hollywood, and Home"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_134053\" style=\"width: 1006px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/gainza2.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-134053\" class=\"size-full wp-image-134053\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/gainza2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"996\" height=\"739\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/gainza2.jpg 996w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/gainza2-300x223.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/gainza2-768x570.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-134053\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mar\u00eda Gainza. Photo: Rosana Schoijett.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>My favorite genre of novel is one I like to call \u201cwomen interacting with art.\u201d Membership is somewhat limited but disproportionately loved. On this shelf sits works such as A.\u2009S. Byatt\u2019s <em>The Djinn in the Nightingale\u2019s Eye<\/em>, Ali Smith\u2019s <em>Artful<\/em>, and now Mar\u00eda Gainza\u2019s <a href=\"https:\/\/books.catapult.co\/products\/optic-nerve-by-maria-gainza\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>Optic Nerve<\/em><\/a>. Although each book is unique, they employ a similar philosophy: a belief that life becomes entangled with the art we touch. Gainza\u2019s novel, translated from the Spanish by Thomas Bunstead, follows an Argentine woman alongside her beloved works of art, contrasting her memories with the history of her favorite paintings. Falling somewhere between essay and close personal narrative, <em>Optic Nerve<\/em> reads like a museum. It encompasses countless styles, eras, and characters, offering new stories and ideas for our narrator to follow down winding hallways. Considering artist legacies, Argentine culture, and the accuracy of perception, Gainza paints life and art as adjacent forces; fabricated images and stories become real, casting their shadows onto memory. At one point, Gainza describes the narrator\u2019s childhood home filled with antique furniture, and the bathroom with \u201ca pile of Sotheby\u2019s catalogues dating back to 1972, the shelves bowed under their weight.\u201d The image serves as an unlikely metaphor for Gainza\u2019s book: built around everyday life but haunted by a history of art stacked high in the corner, quietly shaping the space where it sits.\u00a0<strong>\u2014Nikki Shaner-Bradford\u00a0<\/strong><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>Pam Houston has spent much of her writing career responding to the landscapes, textures, and mythologies of the American West in ways that have expanded what is possible in that literature\u2014in terms of style, in terms of voice, in terms of structure. She is one of this nation\u2019s greatest writers and one who frankly doesn\u2019t always get the respect she deserves (especially, dare I say, from the East Coast\u2013focused literary establishment). Her new book, <a href=\"https:\/\/books.wwnorton.com\/books\/Deep-Creek\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>Deep Creek: Finding Hope in the High Country<\/em><\/a>,\u00a0is a searching, emotionally complex memoir about her relationship to her home in the Colorado high country. This is the story of a life both well lived and well interrogated, a book that manages\u2014with seeming ease\u2014to walk an emotional tightrope: by turns funny, heartbreaking, horrifying, and magisterial in its carefully rendered descriptions of the landscape she so loves. It is a beautiful, breathtakingly honest book, one I hope cannot be ignored.\u00a0<strong>\u2014Christian Kiefer<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_134062\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/ashland2014_byjacobmckinley.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-134062\" class=\"size-full wp-image-134062\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/ashland2014_byjacobmckinley.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"751\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/ashland2014_byjacobmckinley.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/ashland2014_byjacobmckinley-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/ashland2014_byjacobmckinley-768x577.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-134062\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Phil Elverum. Photo: Jacob McKinley.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Phil Elverum\u2019s music, whether as Mount Eerie or the Microphones, is infinitely rewarding. Each of his songs is a nest of quiet self-references and sparsely rendered images: the moon, the trees of Washington, the breeze keening through everything. I\u2019ve listened to him for years; he\u2019s one of my favorite artists. His 2009 album\u00a0<em><a href=\"https:\/\/pwelverumandsun.bandcamp.com\/album\/winds-poem\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Wind\u2019s Poem<\/a><\/em>,\u00a0which I\u2019ve been revisiting over the past couple weeks, is as threaded with nature and personal history as anything he\u2019s made, but it\u2019s more mysterious. The vocals lie low in the mix, surrounded by\u2014and often submerged beneath\u2014droning synths and black-metal guitars. David Lynch\u2019s influence on Elverum has never been a secret, and the lyrics throughout\u00a0<em>Wind\u2019s Poem<\/em> seem to nod to a particular moment in\u00a0<em>Twin Peaks<\/em>\u00a0when Agent Cooper finally enters the otherworldly Black Lodge via a moonlit puddle\u2014or, as Elverum might say, \u201ca deep hole, full of water, reflecting sky.\u201d (To seal the deal on this association, Elverum weaves the synth chords of \u201cLaura Palmer\u2019s Theme\u201d into \u201cBetween Two Mysteries.\u201d) It can be difficult to gain purchase in this swirl, but by invoking his own work\u2014interpolating melodies from his previous albums, circling similar images, and implementing familiar sounds\u2014Elverum grounds us with the shock of memory, as though we\u2019ve lived in the Pacific Northwest our whole lives and somehow found ourselves lost in the looming mountains, seeing the lights of the town below, glimpsing, through the fog, something both familiar and not.\u00a0<strong>\u2014Brian Ransom<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>It\u2019s a lucky thing that <a href=\"https:\/\/groveatlantic.com\/book\/pure-hollywood\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>Pure Hollywood<\/em><\/a> is now out in paperback. Don\u2019t be fooled by the size of Christine Schutt\u2019s latest story collection: it is small but mighty. As soon as I finished the title story, in which a young widow tries to find her way out of a bottle and the Piro house, a priceless piece of architecture she briefly inhabited with her much older husband, I had the sensation I should start back at the beginning and read it again. Every sentence ripples and shines, oscillating between percussively tight prose and lush, languorous descriptions. I know we were all looking at Hollywood last Sunday for the Oscars, but let\u2019s look again, through the prism of this sly and smart observer of love and its fallout. <strong>\u2014Emily Nemens<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>During her confinement in the Bellevue Place sanitarium, Mary Todd Lincoln complained of an Indian spirit entering her room to torture her. In <a href=\"https:\/\/coffeehousepress.org\/products\/savage-conversations\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>Savage Conversations<\/em><\/a>, LeAnne Howe takes this historical fact and spins a drama in verse with a cast of three characters: Mary Todd Lincoln, Savage Indian, and The Rope. In Howe\u2019s telling, Savage Indian is one of the thirty-eight Dakota people executed on the orders of President Abraham Lincoln in 1862\u2014the largest mass execution in U.S. history. This speculation\u2014that the Indian who haunted Mary Todd\u2019s later years might bear connection to the Dakota 38\u2014is both convincing and generative. The harrowing dialogue, fights, and intimacies mirror the tumult of history, which constantly reveals and conceals itself. Throughout, I was especially interested in Savage Indian\u2019s generosity toward Mary Todd. To what extent he is a hallucination or his own sovereign being is unclear, but in any case, he abides by her. He combs and cleans her hair of nits. He compels her to speak and to work through her past. He cuts and sews open her eyelids\u2014an extreme act, to be sure, but one that offers her the chance to view and admit to the horrors of white violence. Mary Todd ultimately doesn\u2019t seize her opportunity\u2014at least not decisively\u2014and I\u2019m reminded of how when people of color offer up their truths and their stories, America often ignores or contorts them in its own interest. It\u2019s too easy to claim a heroic legacy for Abraham Lincoln or for any person. The truth is difficult, and <em>Savage Conversations<\/em> is at times distressing, but I left the story with a deep sense of gratitude for Howe\u2019s dedication to complexity and nuance.\u00a0<strong>\u2014Spencer Quong<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_134055\" style=\"width: 810px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/leanne-howe.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-134055\" class=\"size-full wp-image-134055\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/leanne-howe.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"426\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/leanne-howe.jpg 800w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/leanne-howe-300x160.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/03\/leanne-howe-768x409.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-134055\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">LeAnne Howe.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>This week, the staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 praises Pam Houston, admires Christine Schutt, and argues for a shelf of novels labeled \u201cwomen interacting with art.\u201d<\/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":[49963,3605,5016,49964,11615,16817,35,49957,49971,49965,41630,2281,27685,11509,49969,49970,2633,425,49687,49960,28905,49967,2809,12891,504,40142,49955,49968,30580,3225,8125,34579,1022,12985,112,9038,6319,21722,4154,49959,30567,49958,1870,354,23396,49966,7845,13487,8025,883,49956,49961,1153,6688,14787,5041,46496,3382,49962],"class_list":["post-133987","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-49963","tag-a-s-byatt","tag-abraham-lincoln","tag-agent-cooper","tag-ali-smith","tag-american-west","tag-art","tag-artful","tag-bellevue-place","tag-black-lodge","tag-black-metal","tag-christine-schutt","tag-colorado","tag-country","tag-dakota","tag-dakota-38","tag-david-lynch","tag-drama","tag-east-coast","tag-high-country","tag-laura-palmer","tag-leanne-howe","tag-life","tag-lincoln","tag-literature","tag-lo-fi","tag-maria-gainza","tag-mary-todd-lincoln","tag-mount-eerie","tag-museum","tag-mythology","tag-native-american","tag-nature","tag-nineteenth-century","tag-novel","tag-optic-nerve","tag-oscars","tag-pacific-northwest","tag-paintings","tag-pam-houston","tag-phil-elverum","tag-pure-hollywood","tag-recommendation","tag-recommendations","tag-sanitarium","tag-savage-conversations","tag-short-stories","tag-songs","tag-sothebys","tag-staff-picks","tag-the-djinn-in-the-nightingales-eye","tag-the-microphones","tag-torture","tag-twin-peaks","tag-violence","tag-washington","tag-west","tag-western","tag-winds-poem"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - 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