{"id":148437,"date":"2020-10-16T14:34:40","date_gmt":"2020-10-16T18:34:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=148437"},"modified":"2020-10-16T15:36:51","modified_gmt":"2020-10-16T19:36:51","slug":"staff-picks-trail-mix-safe-sex-and-conversation","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/10\/16\/staff-picks-trail-mix-safe-sex-and-conversation\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Trail Mix, Safe Sex, and Conversation"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_148473\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/armistead.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-148473\" class=\"size-full wp-image-148473\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/armistead.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"750\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/armistead.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/armistead-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/armistead-768x576.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-148473\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Armistead Maupin. Photo: Christopher Turner. Courtesy of Harper Perennial.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>Why did I sleep on the <a href=\"https:\/\/www.netflix.com\/title\/80211563\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>Tales of the City<\/em> television reboot<\/a>? Maybe my 2019 self knew that her October 2020 counterpart would desperately need to hear one of her favorite fictional characters, Anna Madrigal (played by the incomparably sympathetic Olympia Dukakis), declare to a doom-mongering millennial documentarian: \u201cWe\u2019re still people, aren\u2019t we. Flawed. Narcissistic. Doing our best.\u201d I write now to recommend the show, but with the caveat that you must read all of the books first (start <a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1531\/9780061358302\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">here<\/a>), and it\u2019s not a bad idea to watch the previous television adaptations, either. Go ahead, immerse yourself in the five-decade epic of Mrs. Madrigal, a San Francisco landlord who resembles a fairy godmother (imagine!), and the eclectic tenants of her hilltop home as they navigate friendship, romance, and gender identity. Armistead Maupin\u2019s Tales series found me when I was about twenty-four, and it gave me both an escape from my own situation and an education about the wider world. Like Dickens, Maupin writes for the masses, and he originally published the first five books of the Tales in serial. He gives characters names like Anna Madrigal, DeDe Halcyon, and Mary Ann Singleton; Michael Tolliver, the boy looking for love at the center of it all, is surely an outright nod. And like Dickens, Maupin is both an operatic storyteller and a documentarian of contemporary social issues, though he doesn\u2019t judge or preach. The Tales were where I first met and loved transgender characters and where I learned about <small>AIDS<\/small> as it was experienced personally and over decades by gay men, rather than as a distant reason for high schoolers to practice safe sex. The books were, sad to say, revelatory for me even in the early aughts\u2014but when they were first published, in the seventies and eighties, they were revolutionary. Beyond the candid treatment of then-taboo subjects, each book interweaves juicy personal stories and a dark secret that the gang works together to uncover\u2014a stand-in for the real danger in their lives and a nudge that living honestly is the best policy. But these are cozy mysteries: whether you\u2019ve recently broken up with your person or you\u2019ve just found out they\u2019re a psychopath, you can always go home to Barbary Lane, where Mrs. Madrigal will roll you a joint and affirm your human value. Now that things are feeling scarier than ever, what a godsend it is to revisit Maupin\u2019s clear-eyed yet somehow still hopeful world. <strong>\u2014Jane Breakell\u00a0<\/strong><!--more--><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/a24films.com\/notes?f=Podcast\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>The A24 Podcast<\/em><\/a> returned this week with <a href=\"https:\/\/a24films.com\/notes\/2020\/10\/everything-is-available-with-nicholas-braun-and-nicholas-britell\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">a conversation between the composer Nicholas Britell and the actor Nicholas Braun<\/a>, both of <em>Succession<\/em> fame\u2014a show that supposedly shouldn\u2019t fill one with nostalgia for their childhood but, for me, somehow does. But even if I weren\u2019t waiting patiently for\u00a0the third season of <em>Succession<\/em>, relishing my coworkers\u2019 tales of Kieran Culkin sightings around Manhattan, I still would have clicked that podcast notification with the same eagerness. I treat most podcasts like trail mix\u2014picking out the M&amp;M\u2019s, making time only for the titles that feature names I already know\u2014but <em>The A24 Podcast<\/em> (and <a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/podcast\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>The Paris Review Podcast<\/em><\/a>, I am obliged to add!) is not one of those. Each installment manages to surprise me\u2014a commendable feat for any interview, let alone podcast. Even predictable pairings such as Jonah Hill and Michael Cera don\u2019t go where I expect; <a href=\"https:\/\/a24films.com\/notes\/2019\/01\/dont-be-a-stranger-with-jonah-hill-and-michael-cera-1\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">their conversation<\/a> includes Hill\u2019s advice for living unselfishly, and anecdotes about Prince at parties. I am reminded each time I listen that what I seek, maybe, is the emphasis on caring for the craft, whatever it may be. Often, I feel the urge to return to the podcast\u2019s first episode, \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/a24films.com\/notes\/2018\/02\/episode-01-all-the-way-home-with-barry-jenkins-greta-gerwig\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">All the Way Home with Barry Jenkins &amp; Greta Gerwig<\/a>.\u201d In California, I used to listen to it on the long weekday walks I took to feel like a New Yorker again in that strange desert town with its unwalkable sidewalks, its uncrossable roads. Recently, playing the episode for the first time while fixed in place\u2014my kitchen, as I did my silly little tasks, made a meal, cleaned my mess\u2014I was struck by what Gerwig says about times of stillness as times of growth. The year having gone the way it has, I nodded my head solemnly as she spoke, surprised at having found something new here since my previous revisitation in February. \u201cThese moments where what looks like being lazy or a fallow period or like you haven\u2019t done anything, a lot of important work can get done there, when it doesn\u2019t look like anything is happening on the surface,\u201d she tells Jenkins. \u201cBy the time you were making <em>Moonlight<\/em>, you had stored up a lot.\u201d And we\u2019re probably not all stockpiling the stuff that would make us each a <em>Moonlight<\/em>, but there\u2019s something here in the stillness nonetheless. <strong>\u2014Langa Chinyoka<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_148461\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/marie-ndiaye-author-photo.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-148461\" class=\"size-full wp-image-148461\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/marie-ndiaye-author-photo.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"667\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/marie-ndiaye-author-photo.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/marie-ndiaye-author-photo-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/marie-ndiaye-author-photo-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-148461\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Marie NDiaye. Photo: \u00a9 Catherine H\u00e9lie. Courtesy of Knopf Publishing Group.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I cannot think of a novelist who has been so consistently recommended to me with unfettered enthusiasm as Marie NDiaye. This week I began reading her with <a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1531\/9780525520474\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>The Cheffe<\/em><\/a> (translated from the French by Jordan Stump), the work of a masterful prose stylist calmly and elegantly assembling layers of psychological realism with the same precision and focus her titular character might use to prepare one of her famous dishes. The story of the Cheffe is told by way of an unnamed narrator\u2019s lovesick memories, a clever and impressive construct that presents a portrait of a woman who is both mystic and artist. The narrator\u2019s reverent tone lends the novel a hagiographical quality as it examines artistic obsession and devotion with a grace that, to me, inspires enthusiastic recommendation. <strong>\u2014Lauren Kane<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>At only fifteen minutes in length, the 2018 short film <a href=\"https:\/\/filmshortage.com\/shorts\/blood-orange\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>Blood Orange<\/em><\/a> brews up a bizarre and cruel ambience with the lightest of touches, creating a viewing experience that is equal parts concerning and charming. Despite the ableism, murder of pets, and other violent ends, this little Australian film feels somber only when removed from the context of the delightful narration that bookends the story. The whimsical piano tune and the Wes Anderson\u2013esque voice-over gave me space to enjoy the film\u2019s craft rather than wallow in its darkness, thereby creating a fiendishly pleasant dark humor that I wish we saw more of in film. <strong>\u2014Carlos Zayas-Pons<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I picked up the poet Choi Seungja\u2019s <a href=\"https:\/\/actionbooks.org\/choi-seungja-phone-bells\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><em>Phone Bells Keep Ringing for Me<\/em><\/a>, translated by Won-Chung Kim and Cathy Park Hong, because she was an influence on Kim Hyesoon, whose collection <em>Autobiography of Death<\/em> (translated by Don Mee Choi) I haven\u2019t been able to stop thinking about since I read it <a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/02\/08\/staff-picks-death-davila-and-darkness\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">in 2019<\/a>. Choi first started publishing in 1979 and has since then become, as Hong explains in her preface to the book, \u201cone of the most influential feminist poets in South Korea.\u201d The work included in this collection is stark in its examination of the power differentials between men and women. Loneliness, the politics of the twentieth century, and the body all appear as topics in poems such as \u201cToward You\u201d (\u201cI will come to you.\u2009\/\u2009Like syphilis germs flowing through veins,\u2009\/\u2009like death gripping life\u201d) and \u201cThe End of a Century\u201d (\u201cThe 1970s were a horror\u2009\/\u2009and the 1980s a humiliation.\u2009\/\u2009Now, what stigma will the end of this century stick with me?\u201d). I\u2019m in awe of how bracing these poems can be, how critical and clear-eyed Choi is about the destructive elements of consumerism, patriarchy, and heterosexual love. <strong>\u2014Rhian Sasseen<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_148459\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/choi-photo-2.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-148459\" class=\"size-full wp-image-148459\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/choi-photo-2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"750\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/choi-photo-2.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/choi-photo-2-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/choi-photo-2-768x576.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-148459\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Choi Seungja. Photo: Sinyong Kim. Courtesy of Action Books.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 revisits old comforts, accepts enthusiastic recommendations, and reads the influential feminist poet Choi Seungja.<\/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-148437","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: Trail Mix, Safe Sex, and Conversation<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"The staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 revisits old comforts, accepts enthusiastic recommendations, and reads the influential feminist 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