{"id":138890,"date":"2019-08-23T13:25:38","date_gmt":"2019-08-23T17:25:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=138890"},"modified":"2019-08-23T13:36:13","modified_gmt":"2019-08-23T17:36:13","slug":"staff-picks-screen-tests-souvenirs-and-sam-ospovat","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/08\/23\/staff-picks-screen-tests-souvenirs-and-sam-ospovat\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Screen Tests, Souvenirs, and Sam Ospovat"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Kate Zambreno. Photo: Tom Hines.<\/p><\/div>\n

When I was very, very young and very, very unhappy working in a bookstore, I read on my lunch breaks Kate Zambreno\u2019s Green Girl<\/em>, a novel about another very unhappy shopgirl, and felt as though I understood it on a cellular level. Zambreno\u2019s books have a way of getting under your skin, and her willingness to write ugly, to approach the banal and the clich\u00e9 as just another tool and subvert it into works of rage and oftentimes real beauty, is part of the appeal. Screen Tests<\/em><\/a>, her latest, pairs a first half composed of very short, very funny pieces of fiction (some of which were published in the Spring 2019 issue<\/a>) with a second half of longer essays, and the effect is that of a particularly devastating form of d\u00e9j\u00e0 vu. Sentences repeat themselves; nameless characters are named; consequences are experienced. The pernicious effects of class, money, and gender reoccur. Is there a way to break the cycle? Art seems like part of the answer\u2014and in an era in which it feels as though we all constantly need to market ourselves, it\u2019s refreshing to read a book that explicitly champions art that is raw, art that is messy, art that cannot be contained. \u2014Rhian Sasseen\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

My physics is fuzzy, but I\u2019ve been musing on how three points can make for the most stable seat and the least stable relationships. Almost before I knew it, Joanna Hogg\u2019s most recent film, The Souvenir<\/a><\/em>, became a favorite. There was an issue of The New Yorker\u00a0<\/em>lying around the office already opened to Rebecca Mead\u2019s nimble profile of Hogg<\/a>. Mead told me what I needed to know: Hogg had reread Henry James\u2019s A Portrait of a Lady<\/em> while making the film; it is deeply, devotedly autobiographical, but she waited nearly thirty years to make it; and Tilda Swinton appears. The Souvenir<\/em>, playing now at Metrograph<\/a>, is fabulously good and exceptionally more than the sum of its parts. Julie, an untried soul from a privileged family, is making her first forays into film but hardly knows the language, much less her own particular accent. She meets and falls for an older man who brings an aesthetic vernacular and a heroin addiction to her waiting canvas. Even on the Lower East Side, where hip insouciance is as thick as the heat, the film elicited gasps and sobs from the small group of us in the theater. It\u2019s unlike any movie I\u2019ve seen before, and Hogg\u2019s sureness in telling the story of her own innocence couldn\u2019t be more welcome. A patina of luxurious tradition makes the film timeless even as it is so specific to the early eighties\u2014the opera in Venice, champagne at lunch, a family walking their own field at dusk. Aside from everything else, The Souvenir<\/em> is a love story that feels untold even though it is as old as time: a threesome, two lovers and a third point\u2014here an addiction\u2014that leaves a hole in the universe as it implodes. \u2014Julia Berick<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Jesse Ball. Photo: James Foster.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Jesse Ball\u2019s latest novel, The Divers\u2019 Game<\/em><\/a>, is a book that contemplates, with the gravity and grace it deserves, a world beyond the point of no return. In three stunning and largely separate sections, Ball depicts a world very similar to our own\u2014harshly stratified, on the brink of ecological collapse, in which the lives of that majority on the margin are considered less than worthless. Ball provides us with sparely drawn characters, all of whom hold the lives of others in their hands. Whether a zookeeper tasked with caring for the world\u2019s only living hare, a young girl granted absolute sovereignty for the day, or simply children whose bullying has gone too far, these characters live in a world \u201cmaintained by a violence so complete, it is like air.\u201d The book\u2019s final section, in which a woman confronts the violence within herself, is one of the more beautiful things I\u2019ve ever read. It is very hard to think, let alone to write, about the world in which we live. To attempt to capture all that is happening, all that we are letting happen, can often feel like a never-ending failure: \u201cI want to say something. I sit to write it. I fail to say it. I fail to say it. I fail to say it. I fail to say it.\u201d Ball says it, thank God. We can only hope it\u2019s not too late. \u2014Noor Qasim<\/strong><\/p>\n

Even if you like jazz, you still might not like Sam Ospovat\u2019s new album, Ride Angles<\/em><\/a>. But if you like challenging, angular, rhythmically inventive jazz with a decidedly contemporary edginess, you may indeed love it\u2014I do, not in spite but because of the challenges it offers. Ospovat is a New York\u2013based drummer (who, it also happens, is among the musicians scoring the second season of the Paris Review <\/em>podcast<\/a>, though don\u2019t expect music like this there) with interests ranging from twentieth-century classical music to avant-garde jazz. Among his collaborators on this record is the pianist Matt Mitchell, one of the most exciting and responsive improvisers currently working (his recent album Phalanx Ambassadors<\/em><\/a>\u00a0is also not to be missed). If you give Ride Angles<\/em> a spin, you\u2019ll find yourself chasing choppy melodies through all sorts of rhythmic gauntlets; there\u2019s a sprinkle of Cecil Taylor here and there, though without any of Taylor\u2019s aggression and general overwhelm. Everywhere there is something interesting to pay attention to\u2014from the bickering among the drums, piano, guitar, and sax to, on one tune, odd and glorious vocals from Lorin Benedict. I suppose music like this is an acquired taste, but if you\u2019ve already acquired it, or would like to, this album will make you very happy. \u2014Craig Morgan Teicher<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Yale University Art Gallery\u2019s current student-curated exhibition, \u201cA Nation Reflected: Stories in American Glass<\/a>,\u201d traces America\u2019s cultural history by focusing on a single medium. Paradoxically, the show\u2019s simple conceit makes its appeal difficult to describe succinctly, but its success is no doubt born of how its broad parameters create the space for a narrative arc. Eighteenth-century glass flasks commemorating Masonic societies or depicting George Washington are placed alongside Native American beaded jewelry, marking the tensions of nascent America. Glassware sets, elegant mirrors, and iconic, elaborate Tiffany lamps represent the early twentieth century\u2019s unapologetic excess, and the use of glass in scientific instruments displays our own contemporary aesthetic. The broad scope of the show allows for both Horatian virtues, beauty and utility, to be presented as entirely separate\u2014such as in contemporary works of sculpture alongside a sleek, functional Chemex coffee maker\u2014and as interwoven\u2014such as in a nineteenth-century table with a mirror installed below it, meant to be placed opposite a window to maximize the light in a dingy, pre-electricity room. Perhaps the most thoughtful absence is in the voice of the curators: there is very little editorializing beyond choices in the layout of objects; the nation one sees reflected depends entirely on the viewer. \u2014Lauren Kane<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Kensington Glass Works, Sailors Rights Flask (Turtle Whimsy)<\/em>, ca. 1829, mold-blown soda-lime glass. Yale University Art Gallery, Mabel Brady Garvan Collection.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This week, the staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 looks at American glassware and recommends Kate Zambreno and Jesse Ball.<\/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":[12915,13036,57291,11780,11578,57295,57294,3452,57293,57292,57296],"class_list":["post-138890","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-glass","tag-jesse-ball","tag-joanna-hogg","tag-kate-zambreno","tag-rebecca-mead","tag-ride-angles","tag-sam-ospovat","tag-screen-tests","tag-the-divers-game","tag-the-souvenir","tag-yale-university-art-gallery"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nStaff Picks: Screen Tests, Souvenirs, and Sam Ospovat by The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"This week, the staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 looks at American glassware and recommends 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