{"id":151430,"date":"2021-03-12T16:01:26","date_gmt":"2021-03-12T21:01:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=151430"},"modified":"2021-03-12T16:30:46","modified_gmt":"2021-03-12T21:30:46","slug":"staff-picks-maps-marvels-and-madmen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2021\/03\/12\/staff-picks-maps-marvels-and-madmen\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Maps, Marvels, and Madmen"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Charles Lloyd and the Marvels. Photo: D. Darr.<\/p><\/div>\n

Charles Lloyd, one of the living legends from the great era of sixties jazz, has ridden a late-career high with a sort of supergroup he calls the Marvels, consisting of himself on tenor sax, Bill Frisell on guitar, Greg Leisz on steel guitar, Reuben Rogers on bass, and the wizardly Eric Harland on drums. On their first two albums, the group offered a mix of classic Lloyd originals, jazzed-up folk and rock covers, and vocal collaborations with Lucinda Williams. This group doesn\u2019t feel like a studio band; clearly they\u2019ve played<\/em> together and enjoyed it, learned each other\u2019s tics and tricks. So their latest record, Tone Poem<\/em><\/a>, seems to catch them in medias res, doing what they do\u2014and since everyone here is a master musician, they\u2019re doing it damn well. The album opens with two jaunty Ornette Coleman tunes that focus on the melodic beauty of the late avant-gardist\u2019s compositions. Next, they offer a slow, hopeful take on Leonard Cohen\u2019s \u201cAnthem.\u201d Other highlights include a lush and luxurious ten-minute version of \u201cMonk\u2019s Mood\u201d and a look back at \u201cLady Gabor,\u201d written by Lloyd\u2019s long-ago collaborator G\u00e1bor Szab\u00f3, a major sixties innovator in his own right whose music is too little known now. Overall, this is a mostly relaxing album, with a seamless flow of sounds, thanks to Lloyd\u2019s smooth, continuous voice on sax, Frisell\u2019s incredible ability to create and sustain musical textures, Leisz\u2019s subtle steel guitar work, and Harland\u2019s light touch. After only a few listens, Tone Poem<\/em> has whispered its way deep into my consciousness. \u2014Craig Morgan Teicher\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Wendy S. Walters\u2019s piece in the newest Ocean State Review<\/em><\/a> addresses Pip, the \u201csmallest soul of many lost ones\u201d aboard the Pequod<\/em>, with thoughtfulness and lyricism that open new doors in Melville\u2019s masterpiece and make one want to reread it (or, rather, renew one\u2019s eternal resolution to reread it). Not strictly essay or fiction or criticism, this is an invocation that pays mourning to Pip as written (except Ishmael, all hands on the Pequod<\/em> are lost, but Pip is lost over and over again) and suggests the possibility of an alternate ending in which he \u201cclung to some wooden box until a boat in search of its lost child finds you. But then it would be you, Pip, who represented a country\u2019s hope for itself: a brown boy born into servitude meets the monsters and survives to tell the story. How that would change every ending.\u201d Walters writes beautifully of the dead. In \u201cLonely in America<\/a>,\u201d which appears in her 2015 collection Multiply\/Divide: On the American Real and Surreal<\/em>, she confronts with careful grace the practical and emotional difficulty of connecting with people interred in African burial grounds in New England, whose lives are skimmed over in history books and whose grave sites are neglected or even paved over. After reading these two pieces, I look forward to digging into the rest of the collection, as well as a new piece Walters has in BOMB<\/em><\/small>\u2014and then maybe I\u2019ll see about Melville. \u2014Jane Breakell<\/strong><\/p>\n

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The three novellas that make up Marie Vieux-Chauvet\u2019s Love, Anger, Madness: A Haitian Triptych<\/em><\/a> may differ in form, moving between first person, third person, and even a few pages of play-esque dialogue, but they all depict the brutality of life under a dictatorship modeled on that of Fran\u00e7ois \u201cPapa Doc\u201d Duvalier. The book was originally published in France in 1968, after a period of surveillance and censorship in Vieux-Chauvet\u2019s native country, but the English version, translated by Rose-Myriam R\u00e9jouis and Val Vinokur and featuring an introduction by Edwidge Danticat, appeared in 2009. I first encountered Vieux-Chauvet\u2019s work via the Twitter account Women in Translation, which has been sharing an ongoing thread<\/a> dedicated to promoting overlooked women writers in translation for every day of 2021. After reading Vieux-Chauvet\u2019s Dance on the Volcano<\/em>, an epic of the years leading up to the Haitian Revolution, I was hungry for more. Her prose is lyrical, and her depictions of twentieth-century Haiti\u2019s struggles with corruption, its descent into authoritarianism, and its complexities of class, race, and gender are sharp. As Claire, the thirty-nine-year-old virgin who narrates Love<\/em>, observes: \u201cFreedom is an inmost power. That is why society limits it. In the light of day our thoughts would make monsters and madmen of us. Even those with the most limited imagination conceal something horrifying \u2026 It is a matter of will and action. Of choosing to be puppets or to be human beings.\u201d \u2014Rhian Sasseen<\/strong><\/p>\n

Watch jack-of-all-trades John Lurie roll tires down a hill, repeatedly crash his drone, and paint wonders with watercolors in HBO\u2019s Painting with John<\/em><\/a>. This is top-tier television. If I could suggest just one episode, let it be the fourth, \u201cFame Is Bad<\/a>.\u201d For saying so, I must issue a direct apology:<\/p>\n

Dear John,<\/p>\n

I did not comply when you demanded that I turn off your show. I almost did. I reached for the remote in that quiet tension between your demands because listening to you is so much like listening to a friend, and I forgot for an instant before you told me again to turn off your show that you were not sitting across from me in my living room. With so much virtual communication these days, who can bear to send another friend away with the push of a button? For that, I am not sorry. You followed by saying, \u201cOr if you don\u2019t turn it off, at least don\u2019t tell anybody about it,\u201d but I had already made up my mind to tell as many people as possible, and I knew then that my telling would partly take the form of an apology. The episode continued, and you had a conversation with the moon, and I realized the world desperately needed a friend like John Lurie. For even minimally contributing to your fame, I apologize. If this keeps us from becoming actual friends, I get that. If it helps in some small way to bring about a second season of Painting with John<\/em>, I\u2019ll save you a spot at the coffee table. \u2014Christopher Notarnicola<\/strong><\/p>\n

Independent bookstores have done a truly incredible job keeping us all stocked with reading material throughout the past year, and for that we owe them an immense amount of gratitude. I\u2019ve had no trouble staying flush in terms of new books thanks to these businesses\u2019 efforts, and I know it\u2019s been no small feat. Yet while my shelves have stayed full at home, there is a lot to be said for actually setting foot in a bookstore. Going in for one thing and leaving with something you didn\u2019t know you needed. Finding something new, aided not by an algorithm but by an actual human being. Browsing<\/em>. So this week, unable to head out to spend an afternoon at my local brick-and-mortar, I turn to Jorge Carri\u00f3n\u2019s Bookshops: A Reader\u2019s History<\/em><\/a>, translated from the Spanish by Peter Bush. Somewhere between a scholarly dive into the sociocultural history of bookstores and a survey of Carri\u00f3n\u2019s own travels, the book crisscrosses the globe in its exploration of the places people purchase books. What I find most endearing is Carri\u00f3n\u2019s obvious reverence for his subject matter. This guy loves<\/em> bookstores! And he writes for his fellow literary patron, for anyone who has ever lost an afternoon to a well-curated selection. Carri\u00f3n\u2019s own ephemera amassed on pilgrimages to bookstores around the world serve as pins on his personal map, marking his travels throughout the narrative. And what did I find when I opened my copy of the book? A highlighter-orange bookmark from Garden District Book Shop<\/a> in New Orleans, where, in the long-ago age that was 2019, I took a wonderful trip with wonderful friends and purchased this particular volume as we made our own pilgrimage to the city\u2019s local independents. So while I continue with curbside pickup from my local and online orders from far-flung favorites, I\u2019m reminded of time spent browsing with people I love. And I look forward to doing that again one of these days. \u2014Mira Braneck<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Jorge Carri\u00f3n. Photo: Beto Guti\u00e9rrez, CC BY-SA 4.0 (https:\/\/creativecommons.org\/licenses\/by-sa\/4.0), via Wikimedia Commons.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This week, the staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 reads Marie Vieux-Chauvet, issues an apology to John Lurie, and longs for independent bookstores.<\/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":[67827],"class_list":["post-151430","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-featured"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nStaff Picks: Maps, Marvels, and Madmen – The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"This week, the staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 reads Marie Vieux-Chauvet, issues an apology to John Lurie, and longs for independent bookstores.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" 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