{"id":153620,"date":"2021-07-16T17:36:06","date_gmt":"2021-07-16T21:36:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=153620"},"modified":"2021-07-16T18:08:01","modified_gmt":"2021-07-16T22:08:01","slug":"staff-picks-bowling-borges-and-bad-people","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2021\/07\/16\/staff-picks-bowling-borges-and-bad-people\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Bowling, Borges, and Bad People"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_153630\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/beckamaramckayheadshot.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-153630\" class=\"wp-image-153630 size-full\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/beckamaramckayheadshot.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"827\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/beckamaramckayheadshot.jpeg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/beckamaramckayheadshot-300x248.jpeg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/beckamaramckayheadshot-768x635.jpeg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-153630\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Becka Mara McKay. Photo courtesy of McKay.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>Becka Mara McKay once asked me to make a list of things one would never find in a poem, the lesson being that an exploration of lawn mower parts or the muscles used while bowling or natural marble patterns might yield some wonderful language, and if we\u2019re not putting wonderful language in poetry, then where will all this wonderful language end up? A lot of wonderful language has found its way into McKay\u2019s latest collection, <a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1531\/9781736607510\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>The Little Book of No Consolation<\/em><\/a>, which is structured around seldom-used terms such as <em>scorse<\/em>, <em>inhabitiveness<\/em>, <em>wood want<\/em>, and <em>donkey\u2019s breakfast<\/em>. In \u201c<em>from the Dictionary of Misremembered English<\/em>\u201d she writes, \u201c<em>I can only bless you once<\/em>, says the Angel\u2009\/\u2009of Syntax, who believes we are born among\u2009\/\u2009words the way birds are born among wings.\u201d These poems investigate the layered intricacies of language itself as much as they plumb the depths of their subject matters, which tend toward the intersection of the animal, the translatable, and the mysteries of faith, locked together like calcite crystals in mizzi stone, expertly sawn, sanded, and polished to a mirror finish.\u00a0<strong>\u2014Christopher Notarnicola\u00a0<\/strong><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>The music of the now ninety-seven-year-old Emahoy Tsegu\u00e9-Maryam Gu\u00e8brou, some of which is captured on the compilation <a href=\"https:\/\/www.budamusique.com\/en\/catalogue\/view\/collection\/8\/ethiopiques\/759\/ethiopiques-volume-21\/?of=20\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>\u00c9thiopiques 21: Ethiopia Song (Piano Solo)<\/em><\/a>, feels light but not frivolous\u2014like floating on a very deep ocean. Despite the wimple she wears on the cover of <em>\u00c9thiopiques\u00a021<\/em>, I didn\u2019t know she was a nun until recently, when I came across the BBC Radio 4 documentary \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/www.bbc.co.uk\/programmes\/b08mb1ft\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">The Honky Tonk Nun<\/a>.\u201d That the music is supported by deep spiritual devotion is no surprise. While honky-tonk isn\u2019t mentioned in the radio piece (and is not a descriptor I\u2019d apply to Gu\u00e8brou\u2019s work), sixth-century liturgical chants, Western classical, and Ethiopian pop are. Born into privilege and classically trained in Switzerland and Cairo, Gu\u00e8brou was living in Addis Ababa before something \u201cbroke my music life,\u201d as she says in the documentary, and she left for a mountain monastery to become a nun. In her life story and under her fingers, seemingly disparate currents meet. It is difficult to find her records these days, but <a href=\"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/album\/4OYhJgrDTR74Yo4SE8Exdk\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>\u00c9thiopiques\u00a021<\/em><\/a>\u00a0is on Spotify. Thank god. <strong>\u2014Jane Breakell<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_153633\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/2.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-153633\" class=\"size-full wp-image-153633\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"667\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/2.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/2-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/2-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-153633\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Kim Minhee in <em>The Woman Who Ran<\/em>. Courtesy of Cinema Guild.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I adore the work of the Korean director Hong Sang-soo, whose films have sometimes been compared to those of \u00c9ric Rohmer, and Hong\u2019s latest, <a href=\"http:\/\/www.cinemaguild.com\/theatrical\/womanwhoran.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>The Woman Who Ran<\/em><\/a>, is no exception. Starring his frequent collaborator Kim Minhee as Gamhee, a seemingly content married woman, <em>The Woman Who Ran<\/em> is a film about crossroads and the taut, tense moments of contemplation that occur before a major life decision. The plot is simple: Gamhee visits three female friends\u2014two on purpose, one by accident\u2014and discusses her relationship with her husband; over the course of the film, it becomes clear that she is thinking of leaving him. In the five years of their marriage, she is quick to point out, she and her husband have\u2014until now\u2014never spent a day apart. Her friends are uneasy when they hear this, and each of them\u2014a divorced woman now living with another woman who is referred to only as a \u201croommate,\u201d though there are hints of intimacy beyond that; a single woman caught up in many complicated love affairs, including one with a very young poet and another with a not-quite-divorced architect; and an old friend from Gamhee\u2019s past now married to a famous writer who himself may also once have had a relationship with Gamhee\u2014seem to offer an example of the independence that is missing from Gamhee\u2019s life. Gamhee lodges no major complaints over the course of this movie, no major decisions are made, and yet this is a film that feels like holding one\u2019s breath: though it\u2019s not clear what exact shape her decision will take, it is obvious that an unstoppable force is now making its way toward an immovable object\u2014action will occur. For those of us living in New York, <a href=\"https:\/\/www.filmlinc.org\/films\/the-woman-who-ran\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>The Woman Who Ran<\/em><\/a> is currently playing at Lincoln Center.\u00a0<strong>\u2014Rhian Sasseen<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The topic of the female antihero came up recently in a discussion I was having over a game of pool (where else?). The subject is vast, but I encountered last night a remarkable species of the genus in Chloe Wilson\u2019s short story \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/granta.com\/hold-your-fire\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Hold Your Fire<\/a>,\u201d which appears in the most recent issue of <em>Granta<\/em>. An engineer for a military arms dealer feeds her general state of low-grade rage with resentment of her milquetoast, IBS-riddled husband and fierce protection of her son (whom she also sort of resents) against the powers that be at his sensitive, alternative-style private day care. Like all the best antiheroes, her charm comes from our realization that she is a bad person, unworthy of sympathy, and yet \u2026 by the story\u2019s twisted, triumphant ending, she\u2019s somehow won it anyway. <strong>\u2014Lauren Kane<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>For reasons that aren\u2019t clear to me, Martin MacInnes\u2019s <a href=\"https:\/\/atlantic-books.co.uk\/book\/infinite-ground\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>Infinite Ground <\/em><\/a>has sat undisturbed on my bookcase since its publication five years ago. It was recommended to me by a pal whose taste I trust, and was reviewed very favorably at the time of publication, but I failed to pick it up until this week. Framed as a missing-person noir set in Latin America, the book follows a nameless detective through a nameless city as he hunts for Carlos, a young man who disappeared in the middle of a family gathering. An actor gives evidence to the detective in place of the missing man\u2019s mother\u2014she is too distressed to talk. Many more actors take the place of the missing man\u2019s colleagues\u2014they are considered by the employer more authentic, more efficient than the workers themselves. Minute biological evidence of the missing man is everywhere, and forensic investigation reveals he had an infection not only of his skin but of his thoughts: \u201cHis gut fermented anxiety, paranoia.\u201d Nature hums in the background and air, but while unreality spirals in all directions, everything is presented as fact. Drawing comparisons to works by Jorge Luis Borges, Vladimir Nabokov, Angela Carter, and J.\u2009G. Ballard, it\u2019s a bonkers wee book. Such fun. <strong>\u2014Robin Jones<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_153631\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/macinnes-martin.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-153631\" class=\"size-full wp-image-153631\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/macinnes-martin.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"750\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/macinnes-martin.jpeg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/macinnes-martin-300x225.jpeg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/macinnes-martin-768x576.jpeg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-153631\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Martin MacInnes.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>This week, the staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 admires Becka Mara McKay\u2019s wonderful language, watches Hong Sang-soo\u2019s latest, and picks up a bonkers wee book.<\/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-153620","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-featured"],"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: Bowling, Borges, and Bad People by The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"July 16, 2021 \u2013 This week, the staff of \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 admires Becka Mara 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