{"id":138269,"date":"2019-07-26T13:28:21","date_gmt":"2019-07-26T17:28:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=138269"},"modified":"2019-08-01T12:48:52","modified_gmt":"2019-08-01T16:48:52","slug":"staff-picks-from-aphorisms-to-zorn","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/07\/26\/staff-picks-from-aphorisms-to-zorn\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: From Aphorisms to Zorn"},"content":{"rendered":"

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While there are many things to say<\/a> about the philosophical weightiness of the aphorism, or about its particular wit, it is my personal feeling that the best part of an aphorism is sharing it with someone. (The form of the tweet, an aphorism made expressly for sharing, perhaps proves this point.) Lawrence Ferlinghetti\u2019s Poetry as Insurgent Art<\/a><\/i> was given to me as a token from City Lights Books by someone who had just returned from San Francisco\u2014a tangible way of sharing an experience. It is a pocket-size book of critical compasses, statements such as \u201cA lyric poem must rise beyond sounds found in alphabet soup\u201d and \u201cLike a field of sunflowers, a poem should not have to be explained.\u201d I won\u2019t say that lengthy analysis wouldn\u2019t bring you the same insights, but it certainly wouldn’t give you anything as enjoyable to read aloud to a companion. \u2014Lauren Kane<\/strong> <\/p>\n

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While reading Marguerite Duras, it can be hard to tell if you are pressing your hands to her chest or if she is pressing her hands to yours. Has she mined your deepest feelings or have you caught her heart\u2019s fever? Her nonfiction, written in the same blood and seawater as her fiction, produces the same sensation. On a recent holiday, I kicked two recent works of contemporary fiction out of my beach bag in favor of <\/span>Me & Other Writing<\/span><\/i><\/a>, a slim new collection of Duras\u2019s nonfiction from Dorothy, a publishing project. Duras explains, \u201cWe should write for newspapers the way we walk down the street. We write, we walk, we cross the city, it\u2019s crossed, it ends, the walk continues, in much the same way we cross time, a date, a day and then it\u2019s crossed, ends.\u201d I dove into the collection without considering the foreword, sailing through Duras\u2019s descriptions of homicide and the wild genius of fashion designer, Yves Saint Laurent. Myself mad for couture, I\u2019m reassured that Duras always saw Saint Laurent \u201cas a writer.\u201d It wasn\u2019t until I was back in New York City that I made it to the diary she wrote for the French daily paper <\/span>Lib\u00e9ration. <\/span><\/i>I was both in the East Village and back at the shore with Marguerite. There is something eternal in her prose: \u201cthe anger of the patriarchs is inflicted upon the bags, the women, the children, the cats, the dogs, in every social class men scream when it is time for the bags, sometimes collapse from screaming and go into cardiac arrest, while the women, a small fearful smile on their lips apologize for existing, for having committed the children, the rain, the wind, this entire miserable summer.\u201d When I finished, I flipped back to the foreword, and I applaud the translators, Olivia Baes and Emma Ramadan, for allowing the illusion that I missed little in translation. But I regret that anything would come between me and Marguerite; I\u2019d rather not know whose tongue was whose.\u00a0 \u2014Julia Berick<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

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I strongly believe that certain books correspond to certain seasons, and that the \u201csummer novel\u201d is a genre unto itself. A summer novel should be reserved for those particularly indolent days when it\u2019s too hot to do anything but read, and it comes with a few stipulations. Physically, it should be thick enough that you can easily balance it in one hand while eating fresh fruit with your other; the plot should be twisty enough to command your attention even when you\u2019re sweaty and restless. Ideally, when you look back on your summer, you should remember it filtered through the haze of that novel. Margarita Liberaki\u2019s Three Summers<\/i><\/a>, translated from the Greek by Karen Van Dyck, fulfills every one of these requirements and then some. The novel follows the coming-of-age of three sisters over the course of three summers in the Greek countryside, and there\u2019s a lushness both to the prose (Liberaki is a careful chronicler of nature) and to her observations concerning the relationships between sexuality, love, and family life. By the novel\u2019s end\u2014and by the time the heat wave in New York finally broke\u2014Three Summers<\/i> fulfilled another one of my stringent summer novel requirements: it made me immediately nostalgic for the sweaty hours that had passed. \u2014 Rhian Sasseen<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Much like Karen Olsson, author of the recently published The Weil Conjectures<\/a><\/em>, my first love among the two Wiel siblings was Simone. When I was a young woman, the story of Simone Weil\u2019s intense and urgent life fueled and defined the boundaries of my own. When I read about how she was willing to starve herself in the name of the Lord, I knew I would need to develop more rigorous commitments to my own convictions. Olsson explores the value of the more subtle commitments we make to our intellectual pursuits. By interweaving the stories of Simone, her brother Andr\u00e9 Weil (a renowned mathematician), and Olsson\u2019s own mathematical studies, Olsson makes a compelling case for a discipline that can often seem coldly unresponsive to human concerns. Olsson illuminates the beauty<\/a> and humanity at the heart of mathematical endeavors, with the commitment and charisma necessary to keep laymen engaged.\u00a0 \u2014Noor Qasim<\/strong><\/p>\n

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When I read Midnight\u2019s Children<\/em> for the first time, as a sophomore in college, I quickly declared it my favorite novel. It\u2019s mode of storytelling\u2014the blend of myth, history, and postmodern narration for which Rushdie became famous\u2014was unlike anything I had ever read, astonishing for both its beauty and its strangeness. In the years since, my taste has changed, and I have mostly backed away from terms like \u201cfavorite.\u201d But in the same way that one never fully gets over a first love, there will always be, somewhere in my depths, a candle burning at the altar of that book. I have since read more of Rushdie\u2019s novels, but none has left quite so strong an impression. Like some others<\/a>, I have found his recent work often feels overwrought. Still, I keep trying. So, it was with expectant joy that I opened this week\u2019s New Yorker<\/em> to a story adapted from his new book, Quichotte<\/a><\/em>, forthcoming from Random House. A modern reimagining of Don Quixote<\/em>, the story follows a bumbling and unlikely hero \u201cof Indian origin, advancing years, and retreating mental powers\u201d as he navigates a world he no longer understands, guided only by the light of his own delusion. There are themes that might be called \u201ctopical\u201d\u2014the opioid crisis, political corruption, reality television\u2014all set aglow by Rushdie\u2019s incandescent weirdness. The story is perhaps imperfect\u2014its humor is a little uncool, its irony too plain, its language bombastic\u2014but, for some reason, I didn\u2019t mind. Maybe it\u2019s my bias creeping in. Or maybe it\u2019s that all of those qualities seem somehow fitting for the story: a self-aware twist on a classic knight\u2019s quest, a famous tale of absurdity and romance. I had, while reading it, brief flashes of the exhilarated wonder I felt reading Midnight\u2019s Children<\/em> all those years ago\u2014a sense of being in the hands of a truly exceptional storyteller, a sense that anything might happen. The novel, which has been nominated for a Booker Prize,<\/a> will be published in September. \u2014Cornelia Channing<\/strong><\/p>\n

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If you are a fan of downtown NYC impresario and jazz\/classical\/rock\/unclassifiable composer John Zorn, two contradictory things are likely to be true about your relationship to his music: you own more of it than you could ever hope or want to listen to, and you can\u2019t get enough of it. Zorn is despairingly prolific and also controls his own means of production in the form of his record label, Tzadik. Central to his oeuvre is the Masada project, his take on new Jewish music, which began in the nineties and has spawned literally hundreds of compositions and dozens of albums by many, many bands. This summer, Zorn brings the project to a close with his final collection of Masada music<\/a>, ninety-two compositions performed by twelve bands or performers released as a lavish boxed set of eleven CDs. He is also releasing each volume individually. On the one hand, this is too much music, and a lot of it sounds a lot like other Masada releases. I suppose the box is only for superfans, of which I am one. These are racing, raging, sometimes achingly gorgeous pieces of twisted, klezmer-inflected music strained through countless other genres performed by virtuosos, including guitar gods Bill Frisell and Gyan Riley, the madmen of Secret Chiefs 3, and beloved pianist Craig Taborn. If you\u2019re (understandably) not up for the deep dive, I\u2019d recommend vol. 1, Keter<\/em>, by Argentinian singer Sofia Rei, and vol. 7, Netzach<\/em>, by Zorn\u2019s Gnostic Trio, with Frisell on guitar, Carol Emanuel on Harp, and Kenny Wollessen on vibes; it\u2019s one of the most beautiful albums ever. And since this music isn\u2019t available on streaming services, you might as well get the physical CDs because Tzadik still cares about CD packaging like it\u2019s 1999. \u2014Craig Morgan Teicher<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This week, the Paris Review staff lays down the rules for summer novels and suggests books to read aloud to a companion. <\/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":[],"class_list":["post-138269","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nStaff Picks: From Aphorisms to Zorn by The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"July 26, 2019 \u2013 This week, the Paris Review staff lays down the rules for summer novels and suggests books to read aloud to a companion.\" \/>\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\/2019\/07\/26\/staff-picks-from-aphorisms-to-zorn\/\" \/>\n<meta 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