{"id":145148,"date":"2020-05-18T13:00:45","date_gmt":"2020-05-18T17:00:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=145148"},"modified":"2020-05-18T17:43:56","modified_gmt":"2020-05-18T21:43:56","slug":"the-art-of-distance-no-9","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/05\/18\/the-art-of-distance-no-9\/","title":{"rendered":"The Art of Distance No. 9"},"content":{"rendered":"

In March,<\/em>\u00a0The Paris Review\u00a0launched<\/em>\u00a0The Art of Distance, a newsletter highlighting unlocked archive pieces that resonate with the staff of<\/em>\u00a0the magazine<\/em>, quarantine-appropriate writing on the<\/em>\u00a0Daily, resources from our peer organizations,<\/em>\u00a0and more. Read Emily Nemens\u2019s introductory letter\u00a0here<\/a>, and find the latest unlocked archive pieces below.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201c\u2009\u2018To engage your humor <\/em>and your emotions, that\u2019s quite a trick,\u2019 T.\u2009C. Boyle says in his Art of Fiction interview<\/a>. \u2018I\u2019d like to think that I\u2019m able to do that, to keep the reader off balance\u2014is this the universe of the comedy or the tragedy? or some unsettling admixture of the two?\u2014to go beyond mere satire into something more emotionally devastating, and gratifying. If that ain\u2019t art, I don\u2019t know what is.\u2019 <\/em>Paris Review humor aspires to strike that balance, pull off that trick: taking all the emotional and intellectual and aesthetic requirements of literary storytelling and throwing in what E.\u2009B. White calls \u2018the sly and almost imperceptible ingredient\u2019 of durable humor. This week, enjoy some levity on us. I think we could all use a few belly laughs.\u201d <\/em>\u2014EN<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I first fell for E.\u2009B. White as a little girl, upon reading Charlotte\u2019s Web<\/em>. I loved him again when, at the conclusion of my first editing job, at the Metropolitan Museum, my boss gave me Maira Kalman\u2019s illustrated Elements of Style<\/em>, by Strunk and White. I became a fan a third time when I realized White was Roger Angell\u2019s stepdad: What were their dinner conversations like? Lively, based on some action-packed passages in his Art of the Essay interview<\/a>. Punctuation has never been so threatening (\u201cCommas in The New Yorker<\/em> fall with the precision of knives in a circus act, outlining the victim\u201d), nor children\u2019s capacity for new vocabulary so vivid (\u201cChildren are game for anything. I throw them hard words, and they backhand them over the net\u201d). Also not grandiose, based on his modest assessment of success (on reviving Strunk\u2019s Elements of Style<\/em>: \u201cIt cost me a year out of my life, so little did I know about grammar\u201d) and his utter devotion to Katherine White. He also discusses midcentury satire, recaptioning cartoons, and other funny things in a charming, casual way that the interviewers George Plimpton and Frank Crowther describe as having the \u201coff-hand grace\u201d of an improvising dancer. I call it a fourth arrow in the heart. \u2014EN\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Miranda July\u2014author, filmmaker, and humor connoisseur\u2014has been a leader in quarantine morale. In late March, July held a ceremony for her very own COVID<\/small> International Arts Festival on Instagram, clad in an oversize pink head wrap and her signature wire-rimmed glasses. This past week, she put out a casting call for a mysterious play or film she is producing entirely on social media. Mesmerized by July\u2019s recent projects, I felt inspired to revisit two stories she contributed to The Paris Review<\/em> in 2003, \u201cBirthmark<\/a>\u201d and \u201cMaking Love in 2003<\/a>.\u201d In typical July fashion, the latter starts in medias res. A writer sits in her college adviser\u2019s living room, waiting with his wife for him to come home. We are unsure why the writer is there, other than for some kind of help with her career. And it turns out, after a few forced pleasantries, that the college adviser\u2019s wife is Madeleine L\u2019Engle. It is impossible to summarize where the story goes next, but rest assured, this is the first of many unexpected, perversely humorous twists. July\u2019s 2003 stories are absurd but highly logical\u2014a blunt examination of power, sex, and the written word. \u2014Elinor Hitt, Intern<\/strong><\/p>\n

Matthew Baker\u2019s extraordinary satirical story \u201cWhy Visit America<\/a>\u201d was in the first issue I worked on when I joined the staff of The Paris Review<\/em>, and I\u2019ll admit that when I was setting it up for online publication, I did not like it\u2014it\u2019s a formatting nightmare, full of all kinds of headings and indents and special spacing that the internet simply wasn\u2019t designed for. But then the author read a good portion of it standing atop the office pool table at our issue launch party, and I forgave the hours I\u2019d spent fussing with nonbreaking spaces. This story\u2014a tale of the birth of a brave new bureaucracy wrapped in a kind of travel guide\u2014is, alas, a clear-eyed (and hilarious) view of the contemporary American mess through a pair of cracked rose-colored glasses. May it transport you, via the scenic route, to where you already are. \u2014Craig Morgan Teicher, Digital Director<\/strong><\/p>\n

Central to most humor is the element of surprise. No fiction writer has mastered this as gracefully as Joy Williams, whose sentences tumble off the page in dazzling, unpredictable sequences. \u201cThe Yard Boy<\/a>,\u201d which appeared in the Winter 1977 issue, is no less deadpan than the rest of her brilliant work, and each of the story\u2019s paragraphs offers a lesson in subverting expectations. Consider this sequence: \u201cMrs. Wilson follows the yard boy around as he tends to the hibiscus, the bougainvillea, the jacaranda, the horse cassia, the Java flower, the flame vine. They stand beneath the mango, looking up. \u2018Isn\u2019t it pagan,\u2019 Mrs. Wilson says. Close the mouth, shut the doors, untie the tangles, soften the light, the yard boy thinks. Mrs. Wilson says, \u2018It\u2019s a waste this place, don\u2019t you think? I\u2019ve never understood nature, all this effort. All this will.\u2019\u2009\u201d These turns and those that follow could be perceived as random, but they\u2019re not. Every bit helps confound the reader. As in many of Williams\u2019s stories, the reward lies in her ability to fully inhabit a scene until the hilarious truth begins to blossom. \u2014Brian Ransom, Assistant Online Editor<\/strong><\/p>\n

Long after her death, Dorothy Parker is still overburdened with invitations to strangers\u2019 ideal dinner parties, dreading another evening of tepid soup and burned stuffed peppers with Gandhi and Einstein and Shakespeare. In her Art of Fiction interview<\/a> with Marion Capron, Parker acknowledges that her wit precedes her and deflates her: \u201c\u2009\u2018Why it got so bad,\u2019 she has said bitterly, \u2018that they began to laugh before I opened my mouth.\u2019\u2009\u201d From her \u201cHogarthian\u201d apartment, ruled by a poodle and decorated with an ominous painting of a sheepdog, she reflects on the burden of humor. \u201cA \u2018smart-cracker\u2019 they called me, and that makes me sick and unhappy. There\u2019s a helluva distance between wise-cracking and wit.\u201d She effaces her wit, just as she demonstrates it: \u201cWit has truth in it; wise-cracking is simply calisthenics with words.\u201d All this rings true. Now, why haven\u2019t you touched your pepper? \u2014Chris Littlewood, Intern<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sign up\u00a0here<\/a>\u00a0to receive a fresh installment of The Art of Distance in your inbox every Monday<\/em>.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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