{"id":137632,"date":"2019-06-28T14:29:02","date_gmt":"2019-06-28T18:29:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=137632"},"modified":"2019-06-28T14:43:08","modified_gmt":"2019-06-28T18:43:08","slug":"staff-picks-peonies-poetry-and-passing-things","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/06\/28\/staff-picks-peonies-poetry-and-passing-things\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Peonies, Poetry, and Passing Things"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Ben Lerner. \u00a9 John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation. Used with permission.<\/p><\/div>\n

Ben Lerner\u2019s forthcoming novel The Topeka School<\/em><\/a> weaves a masterful narrative of the impact that mental illness, misogyny, homophobia, politics, and religion have on children who want to be men. The book follows high school debate champion Adam Gordon\u2019s coming of age in the nineties, told through the voices of his psychoanalyst parents, interspersed with the story of his bullied childhood peer, Darren, to form an intricate exploration of Topeka and the way we recall our youth. There is a tension in the fallibility of each memory, which Lerner\u2019s characters examine and reexamine through the lenses of adulthood, therapy, and language. As Adam discovers poetry, the book\u2014and thus his life\u2014takes the form of art, something edited and revised and set out for scrutiny. In the present day, Adam demands, \u201cTell me what led up to this scene,\u201d and though The Topeka School<\/em> is heavily steeped in mid-90\u2019s American liberalism and home phone lines, Lerner plots history with a contemporary eye to reconcile where we were then with where we stand now. It\u2019s rare to find a book that is simultaneously searing in its social critique and so lush in its prose that it verges on poetry \u2014Nikki Shaner-Bradford\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Bill Callahan has the deepest singing voice of any person who has ever lived. His new album, Shepherd in a Sheepskin Vest<\/em><\/a>, is about a rare and unlikely topic for a work of art: happiness. Sometime between a while ago and now, Callahan got married and had a child, and these changes seem to have unclenched the dark peony of his heart such that he is moved to sing lines like \u201cThe children came pouring and pouring out of my chest.\u201d This is some of his most beautiful and vulnerable music to date. That\u2019s not to say you\u2019re in for a salsa party\u2014by its nature, Callahan\u2019s work is low-key and melancholy\u2014but there\u2019s a quiet kind of joy coursing through it. This is a life-giving and life-sustaining record. \u2014Craig Morgan Teicher<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Natalia Ginzburg and Leone Ginzburg. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Natalia Ginzburg\u2019s essay collection The Little Virtues<\/em><\/a> is named for her assertion that children \u201cshould be taught not the little virtues but the great ones.\u201d These great virtues are \u201cnot thrift but generosity and an indifference to money; not caution but courage and a contempt for danger; not shrewdness but frankness and a love of truth; not tact but love for one\u2019s neighbor and self-denial; not a desire for success but a desire to be and to know.\u201d But this thin compendium is not called The Great Virtues<\/em>, and Ginzburg\u2019s natural writerly impulse is to find what shines in small and passing things: snow on the hills of Abruzzi, the condition of her roommate\u2019s shoes, the particular dreariness of London restaurants, the countless small differences between her and her husband. Ginzburg\u2019s intended project is a noble one, but what she actually accomplishes is far more human\u2014the accumulation of daily life and how we move through it, collecting little virtues to keep along the way. \u2014Lauren Kane<\/strong><\/p>\n

I got through Selva Almada\u2019s The Wind That Lays Waste<\/em><\/a> in one sitting, which is a rarity for me these days. In part this is because the book is slim\u2014barely more than a hundred pages in Chris Andrews\u2019s translation from the Spanish\u2014and in part because it is so tightly framed, the story of a single day in four lives. But the book\u2019s power goes beyond that. There is something as hypnotic and inexorable as weather happening here: you know the storm is coming, and you can\u2019t look away, and you want to know how different things will look once it passes. But maybe they won\u2019t look different. One of the tensions in this book is between certainty and its opposite, which could be doubt but could also be a kind of openness that sets you free\u2014if freedom of any sort is possible\u2014from what you\u2019ve built around yourself. \u2014Hasan Altaf<\/strong><\/p>\n

Kristen Arnett has a wicked eye for character. Mostly Dead Things<\/em><\/a>, her first novel, opens with the siblings Jessa-Lynn and Milo assisting their father in the family taxidermy shop. As they apprentice on a carcass, an unexpected deer tumor leaves Milo vomiting all over the otherwise-spotless floor; Jessa-Lynn remains entirely unperturbed. Their differences\u2014their unique identities\u2014are anticipated and articulated from the start. But the moments I cherish most in this novel are the least pronounced, such as when Jessa-Lynn observes sensitive, gentle Milo repeatedly trying to feed change into a broken parking meter: \u201cAnother quarter. \u2018Huh,\u2019 he said. Another quarter.\u201d Arnett perfectly renders that thin line between love and deep, deep frustration of observing one\u2019s family, of knowing anyone\u2019s patterns and gestures too well. That specific Why are you like this?<\/em> only possible in our closest relationships. This is where I find the heart of the novel: how we continue to make no sense to each other, and yet we spin closer and closer regardless. \u2014Spencer Quong<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Kristen Arnett.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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