{"id":141469,"date":"2020-01-10T14:40:51","date_gmt":"2020-01-10T19:40:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=141469"},"modified":"2020-04-07T13:47:33","modified_gmt":"2020-04-07T17:47:33","slug":"staff-picks-sex-stand-up-and-south-korea","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/01\/10\/staff-picks-sex-stand-up-and-south-korea\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Sex, Stand-Up, and South Korea"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_142047\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/ha.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-142047\" class=\"size-full wp-image-142047\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/ha.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"750\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/ha.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/ha-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/ha-768x576.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-142047\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Ha Seong-nan.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>There\u2019s something pleasingly matter-of-fact to the many off-kilter moments found in Ha Seong-nan\u2019s short story collection <a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1531\/9781940953960\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>Flowers of Mold<\/em><\/a> (translated from the Korean by Janet Hong). When problems arise for her characters\u2014a potential intruder in a woman\u2019s farmhouse bedroom, a woman\u2019s loss of memory following the arrival of a new neighbor, a group of tenants faced with eviction by a spoiled and wealthy landlord\u2014their approaches to solving them are no-nonsense, even as the stories themselves border the surreal logic of dreams. The tenants hatch a plan to kill their landlord; the woman\u2019s memory loss betrays her own place within her family; the intruder may exist and may be buried in the orchard. Ha lends a critical eye to capitalism, advertising, and gender in contemporary South Korea, and in each story, she combines the ordinary with the extraordinary to truly disquieting effect. <strong>\u2014Rhian Sasseen\u00a0<\/strong><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>I know I\u2019m only adding an insignificant note to a swelling chorus when I recommend Garth Greenwell\u2019s <a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1531\/9780374124588\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>Cleanness<\/em><\/a>\u2014it\u2019s already drawn praise from Sheila Heti, \u00c9douard Louis, Carmen Maria Machado, Alexander Chee, Adam Haslett, and, in this same section a few weeks ago, <a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/12\/13\/staff-picks-bas-beauvoir-and-britain\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">my own colleague Cornelia Channing<\/a>. But when I finished it, on a plane, where emotions are always more heightened and I am given to dramatic gestures, I clutched it to my chest. I was grateful for this book, as if it had been written for me alone. \u201cI could hear music, Balkan pop, the uneven dreams and pipes, a woman\u2019s voice singing restlessly around them,\u201d the narrator says at one moment. \u201cI couldn\u2019t make out the words but they were always the same: something about love, I thought, something about loss.\u201d The foreignness of Bulgaria\u2014where the narrator is an openly gay American teacher\u2014serves only to remind us that in every place, the song is always the same. Yet in <em>Cleanness<\/em>, we hear the words in uncannily high definition. Greenwell writes about moments of nuance with unrelenting precision, seeking not to flatten them but to fan them out into an array displaying their every possible shade. His structure reflects that gentle exploration: the sentences revise and layer over themselves, and the sections of the book, each of which could stand alone as its own story, seem to inhale and exhale into one another, as if in waves, drawing the water and sending it out again against the shore. And the sex! Greenwell understands, as so few authors do, that sex is not a single act that takes place in the jump cut before morning but a dialogue worth unfurling across pages, an attempt at communication, achieved or failed, in which our truest selves are revealed. We, and his characters, are altered by it every time. <strong>\u2014Nadja Spiegelman<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_142048\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/arvind.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-142048\" class=\"size-full wp-image-142048\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/arvind.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"750\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/arvind.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/arvind-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/arvind-768x576.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-142048\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Arvind Krishna Mehrotra.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Arvind Krishna Mehrotra\u2019s poem \u201cThe House\u201d finishes like this: \u201cOn a railway platform\u2009\/\/\u2009I saw him last,\u2009\/\u2009Who passes before me\u2009\/\u2009In the cheval glass.\u201d Mehrotra\u2019s poetry nimbly distorts the assumptions a reader might make about speaker and subject; up until this final moment of \u201cThe House,\u201d the two are understood as separate. Throughout <a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1531\/9781681374017\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">a recent selection of his work<\/a> published by NYRB Poets, Mehrotra is both understated and sophisticated, often moving between identities and histories. Amit Chaudhuri writes in an introduction to the collection, \u201cAt one point, I\u2019m here, sitting in a chair writing a piece in 2014; at another, I\u2019m Ghalib, receiving letters and poems from friends.\u201d However, you would be misled to think that these are cerebral pieces of philosophy; my favorite thing about Mehrotra\u2019s work is that it is always grounded in the small moments of daily life. His sense of humor is like the shadow of a sideways smile. It\u2019s a quietly forceful collection, one whose spine I\u2019ve already cracked in rereadings. <strong>\u2014Lauren Kane\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I first met Crissy Van Meter in her role as managing editor for the always astounding <a href=\"http:\/\/nouvella.com\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Nouvella Books<\/a>. Since then, she\u2019s founded <em>Five Quarterly<\/em> and published work in <em>Vice<\/em>,\u00a0<em>Bustle<\/em>,\u00a0<em>Guernica<\/em>,\u00a0and <em>Catapult<\/em>. Out this week is her debut novel, <a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1531\/9781616208592\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>Creatures<\/em><\/a>, the story of a girl raised by a charismatic drug-dealing father on a fictional island off the Southern California coast. Through a deft handling of temporality and structure, Van Meter traces the emotional wreckage eddying in the wake of that upbringing as her protagonist shifts into adulthood. I am fond of novels that willfully truncate the possibilities\u2014limiting by geography or circumstance and seeing what that does to the narrative\u2014and Van Meter\u2019s book does this with genuine skill, tracing a childhood of nearly literal shipwreck upon a desert island and pushing through to see what such limits do to the human heart. The result is beautiful and moving. <strong>\u2014Christian Kiefer<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>In her new comedy special, <a href=\"https:\/\/www.amazon.com\/Ilana-Glazer-Planet-Burning\/dp\/B082VJDZMR\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>The Planet Is Burning<\/em><\/a>, Ilana Glazer is surprisingly nihilistic, her stand-up a frank exploration of the complexities and discomforts of being a woman at the beginning of a new decade. Glazer is best known for her work on <a href=\"http:\/\/www.cc.com\/shows\/broad-city\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>Broad City<\/em><\/a>, the recently concluded sitcom that she created with Abbi Jacobson in 2014. In a perfect balance of realism and absurdity, Glazer and Jacobson offered a refreshingly unpolished take on the female-friendship narrative. But after the 2016 election, <em>Broad City<\/em> took a darker turn, with Glazer\u2019s character openly grappling with depression. <em>The Planet Is Burning<\/em> allows Glazer to turn even further inward as she examines her own complexities and contradictions in greater depth. In one instant, she embraces her masculine qualities, arguing that she is \u201csixty to seventy percent female and thirty to forty percent male\u201d; in the next, she admits finding joy in what could be seen as feminine domesticity with her husband. For the second half of the set, Glazer focuses intently on grim and unlikely material, giving a thorough comedic treatment to menstruation and fascism. Yet <em>The Planet Is Burning<\/em> is something of a celebration. Setting the tone at the top of the show, Glazer takes the stage dancing, clad in her signature cutoffs, her hair styled in exaggerated curls that invariably recall Gilda Radner. And to finish, she nearly embraces optimism. \u201cWomen are taking a giant step forward,\u201d she assures her audience. \u201cWe are so close to taking it back.\u201d \u201cBut,\u201d she concludes in a hurried admission, \u201cI just hope we can do it before the planet bursts into flames.\u201d <strong>\u2014Elinor Hitt<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_142050\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/glazer.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-142050\" class=\"size-full wp-image-142050\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/glazer.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"750\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/glazer.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/glazer-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/glazer-768x576.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-142050\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Ilana Glazer.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>This week, the staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 reads disquieting stories, watches a comedy special, and praises, once again, Garth Greenwell.<\/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-141469","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: Sex, Stand-Up, and South 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