{"id":140847,"date":"2019-11-15T14:56:44","date_gmt":"2019-11-15T19:56:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=140847"},"modified":"2019-11-15T15:22:56","modified_gmt":"2019-11-15T20:22:56","slug":"staff-picks-stories-sociopaths-and-sada-baby","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/11\/15\/staff-picks-stories-sociopaths-and-sada-baby\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Stories, Sociopaths, and Sada Baby"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_140954\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/nesrine.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-140954\" class=\"size-full wp-image-140954\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/nesrine.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"750\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/nesrine.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/nesrine-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/nesrine-768x576.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-140954\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Nesrine Malik.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>\u201cEvery social unit,\u201d Nesrine Malik writes in <a href=\"https:\/\/www.weidenfeldandnicolson.co.uk\/titles\/nesrine-malik\/we-need-new-stories\/9781474610407\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>We Need New Stories<\/em><\/a>, \u201cfrom the family to the nation state, functions on the basis of mythology \u2026 Some myths are less useful than others, and some are dangerously regressive.\u201d Over the course of a tight two hundred sixty pages, Malik discusses six of the most influential myths in our \u201cage of discontent.\u201d Focusing on the U.S. and the UK, Malik is keenly aware of our moment\u2014one of \u201cpolitical awakening and despair, when it is becoming clear that something (is) not working, where there (is) fear and distress but also a healthy impulse to resist and mobilize.\u201d Too often, Malik argues, we are \u201cstill fixated on the idea of returning to a time before it all went wrong, rather than the recognition that things have been going wrong all along.\u201d Thus, male, white, heteronormative power\u2014presented as the preordained natural order of things\u2014remains unchallenged. \u201cA lack of uniformity breeds dissent,\u201d Malik states, \u201cand so it is logical that diversity of thought becomes a threat.\u201d If so, let us say that this book is a welcome threat. Furthermore, it is one that has just found a U.S. publisher. Announcing the deal on Twitter last week, <a href=\"https:\/\/twitter.com\/NesrineMalik\/status\/1192475236433891330?s=20\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Malik wrote<\/a>: \u201cit\u2019s hard to get publishers to back books by black women that are not exclusively about the experiences of black women. An authoritative non-fiction non-first person voice is still broadly the preserve of white men. So am heartened by the support.\u201d I am heartened, too. <strong>\u2014Robin Jones\u00a0<\/strong><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>The Detroit rapper <a href=\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/sadababy\/?hl=en\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Sada Baby<\/a> consumes beats like a wood chipper. In song after song, he flexes his menacing wit, weaving in and out of bouncy drums and funk-inspired synths, landing punches and ducking back into the shadows. Like many of his Motor City peers (and their musical kin on the West Coast), he seems to take the backing track as more of a suggestion than a prescription. But he\u2019s never offbeat; rather, he has a prodigal sense of rhythm, masterfully attuned to the conversation between performer and production, the ways the two can align and diverge, and the near-limitless rewards of tinkering with this relationship. And though it\u2019s always a joy to hear him thoroughly mine a particular pocket or cadence, there are few things more satisfying than when Sada Baby comes unhinged. Halfway through \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=Mo5zn85rKok\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Me, Myself, and Skuba<\/a>,\u201d for example, he hydroplanes across the top of the beat, deliberately pushing against time to achieve a thrilling, high-wire tension. (It helps that, like a steam valve providing release, he often caps off his verses with his trademark \u201cHOOOOOOUUUUUUUHHHHH\u201d\u2014an ad-lib fit for a WWE villain.) Beyond his technical skills, he\u2019s a magical performer, incredibly emphatic and full of remarkable one-liners. On his breakout hit, \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=-R4Of4G4gew\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Bloxk Party<\/a>,\u201d a collaboration with his fellow Detroit native Drego, he promises to \u201cfuck the party up with my dance moves\u201d and compares the size of his shotgun with the seven-foot-tall NBA player Lauri Markkanen (when asked about his penchant for reaching beyond the obvious references other rappers rely upon, he said in <a href=\"https:\/\/www.thefader.com\/2018\/09\/10\/sada-baby-bloxk-party-detroit-interview\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">a recent interview<\/a>, \u201cIt\u2019s a bunch of shit out here\u2014names, characters\u2014muhfuckas just don\u2019t use \u2019em\u201d). Sada Baby is in the midst of an incredible run; if he continues at this pace, he\u2019ll land among the greats. <strong>\u2014Brian Ransom<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_140956\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/richardiii.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-140956\" class=\"wp-image-140956 size-full\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/richardiii.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"750\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/richardiii.jpeg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/richardiii-300x225.jpeg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/richardiii-768x576.jpeg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-140956\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">William Shakespeare\u2019s <em>Richard III<\/em>, ca. 1593, in a production directed by Garry Hynes, 2019. Performance view, White Light Festival at Lincoln Center, New York, New York. Photo: Robbie Jack. Courtesy of Lincoln Center.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>To our readers in New York, it\u2019s that time of year when I again recommend Druid Theatre Company\u2019s production in Lincoln Center\u2019s White Light Festival. This November, DruidShakespeare is making its U.S. production premiere of <a href=\"http:\/\/www.lincolncenter.org\/white-light-festival\/show\/druidshakespeare-richard-iii\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>Richard III<\/em><\/a> (on through November 23), one of the Bard\u2019s longer and bloodier plays. I\u2019ll admit that my companions and I pulled up a Wikipedia list of the English monarchy at intermission to make sure we\u2019d been following: this is a complicated moment in English history, with lots of cousins kissing and cursing (and many of them are named Edward). But the knot of conflict feels unfortunately resonant with today\u2019s political climate, and the stupendous acting (Aaron Monaghan, bravo!) and ambitious staging (this is not staid Shakespeare) takes what could be a tedious path through the War of the Roses and makes its brutal narrative something beautiful. <strong>\u2014Emily Nemens<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>When I saw the first season of <a href=\"https:\/\/www.netflix.com\/title\/80175722\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>The End of the F***ing World<\/em><\/a>, I had to accept that I\u2019d found my kindred spirit on Netflix, of all places. Based on the graphic novel by Charles Forsman, the show offers most everything I\u2019ve ever wanted: sociopathy; teens on a murderous road trip; expressionless faces paired with intimate, revealing voice-overs; British accents; and a stellar soundtrack. It delivers these elements flawlessly, cohesively, and at a thrilling clip\u2014twenty-minute episodes lend this drama a breathless, perpetually unsatisfied quality. I did not expect there to be a second season\u2014the first ends so perfectly\u2014but I discovered while at home sick last week that, indeed, there is. While the second season couldn\u2019t deliver in all the same ways as the first, it offers something else, something equally valuable. Here we have a precise and compassionate look at trauma and its aftermath, what it might mean to recover from the things done to you and the things you have done. This world is messy and beautiful; there are perverts and pain around every corner. And through it all, we have each other. Even if it\u2019s the end of the fucking world. <strong>\u2014Noor Qasim<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>This week, I\u2019ve decided to staff pick an artist\u2019s whole body of work, because it\u2019s extraordinary, it\u2019s indivisible, and I\u2019m obsessed with it: the music of <a href=\"http:\/\/www.bluenote.com\/artist\/cecil-taylor\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Cecil Taylor<\/a>. What seems cacophonous at first\u2014loud, percussive blasts of piano accompanied by drumming that might as well be another piano, as much as the piano might as well be another set of drums\u2014turns out to be, with attention, a whole emotional climate that is more available and urgent than the actual weather. His music is so forceful (that\u2019s the most accurate and inclusive adjective I can find for it) that it\u2019s a kind of matter. The great jazz critic Gary Giddins, in his <a href=\"https:\/\/global.oup.com\/academic\/product\/visions-of-jazz-9780195132410?cc=us&amp;lang=en&amp;\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>Visions of Jazz<\/em><\/a>, describes Taylor\u2019s \u201ccascades that sweep up notes in bunches, ringing them like great bells balanced on the beams of his bounding bass chords.\u201d And that\u2019s just one momentary passage in one particular night; everything is in here. Out of the seeming din arises a comprehensive soundtrack. Follow Taylor\u2019s progress from his early straining against order in 1956 on <a href=\"https:\/\/www.freshsoundrecords.com\/cecil-taylor-albums\/4927-jazz-advance-bonus-tracks.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>Jazz Advance<\/em><\/a>; through his <a href=\"https:\/\/store.bluenote.com\/collections\/cecil-taylor\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">masterful Blue Note discs<\/a> of the late sixties; through albums like 1979\u2019s <a href=\"http:\/\/www.newworldrecords.org\/album.cgi?rm=view&amp;album_id=80303\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>3 Phasis<\/em><\/a>, on which Taylor effortlessly inhabits a universe of his own; and land in later masterpieces like <a href=\"http:\/\/www.fmp-label.de\/fmplabel\/catalog2\/fmpcd006.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>Leaf Palm Hand<\/em><\/a>, a duo recording with the percussionist Tony Oxley, who seems to play time itself. Taylor\u2019s oeuvre is a continuum, and it\u2019s always new; it hasn\u2019t been surpassed. If you don\u2019t already love this music, you\u2019re perhaps lucky: it\u2019s an acquired taste, and the process of acquiring it brings infinite rewards. <strong>\u2014Craig Morgan Teicher<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_140958\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/ceciltaylor.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-140958\" class=\"size-full wp-image-140958\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/ceciltaylor.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"758\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/ceciltaylor.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/ceciltaylor-300x227.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/ceciltaylor-768x582.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-140958\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Cecil Taylor playing at his apartment in the sixties. Photo: Charles Rotmil. Via Wikimedia Commons.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>This week, the staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 plunges into a vat of jazz, watches some Shakespeare, and harnesses the healing power of Netflix.<\/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-140847","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Staff Picks: Stories, Sociopaths, and Sada Baby by The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"This week, the staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 plunges into a vat of jazz, watches some Shakespeare, and harnesses the 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