{"id":59031,"date":"2013-09-05T16:07:09","date_gmt":"2013-09-05T20:07:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=59031"},"modified":"2013-09-05T16:07:09","modified_gmt":"2013-09-05T20:07:09","slug":"pynchonicity","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/","title":{"rendered":"Pynchonicity"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"79thstreetlarge\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cParanoia\u2019s the garlic in life\u2019s kitchen, right, you can never have too much,\u201d announces a character in the new novel Bleeding Edge<\/i>\u2014yet because its author is Thomas Pynchon, let\u2019s not take that valorizing of paranoia too lightly; elsewhere the same character grouses about \u201cwhen paranoia gets real-world.\u201d<\/p>\n

More than any other recurring Pynchonian concept, paranoia receives nuanced treatment in the novelist\u2019s work. A tendency toward the \u201cp\u201d word would seem to color his personal life as well: although he reputedly lives in plain sight on New York\u2019s Upper West Side, he keeps his private life more private than that of any other major American artist.\u00a0And, after being a stone Pynchonophile for nearly thirty years, I\u2019ve finally started feeling a bit paranoid myself. It\u2019s not the dot-com \u201chashslingrz,\u201d Pynchon\u2019s latest fictional conspiracy, that\u2019s freaking me out, but the author himself.\u00a0Never before has he set one of his novels in a time and place which I myself inhabited, and as I whooshed back to the New York City of 2001—this time through Pynchon\u2019s aesthetic filter\u2014his world spookily coincided with mine, mapping over it at points both minor and major. Call it a case of \u201cPynchonicity.\u201d<\/p>\n

As it happens, I spent much of 2001 rereading the then-available Pynchon canon: the historical books (Gravity\u2019s Rainbow<\/i>, Mason And Dixon<\/i>);\u00a0the contemporaries set during Pynchon\u2019s own adult years (The Crying Of Lot 49<\/i>, Vineland<\/i>); and his first novel, V.<\/i>, a hybrid of those two forms. I was thirty-eight then, Pynchon was sixty-four, and a goal of my project was to understand the man, to puzzle out what kind of mind could be equally open to profundity and vulgar puns, tenderness and cruelty, hard science and the occult, sweet lyricism and, well, Rainbow<\/i>\u2019s notorious shit-eating scene. Given Pynchon\u2019s aversion to cameras, microphones, reporters\u2019 notebooks, and public podiums, the texts were all I and his other readers had to work from. <\/p>\n

Another resonance Bleeding Edge<\/i> has for me, a nonpracticing Yiddishe boychick<\/i>, is its cover-to-cover ethnic content. With the book\u2019s protagonist and antagonist both members of the tribe, the novel is by a long stretch Pynchon\u2019s most Jewish. (If Bill Clinton was our \u201cfirst black President,\u201d can Pynchon now be declared our most Judaical WASP?) Bar itzvah line-dances, Mossad cyber-trickery, something called Obsessive Yenta syndrome (\u201cO.Y.\u201d), an exhortation to \u201cmensch<\/i> up,\u201d shout-outs to Gershom Scholem, Howard Cosell, and Stew Leonard (now there\u2019s<\/i> a trio), assorted Jewish mothers, a Krav Maga course for kids, more Yiddish backtalk than Philip Roth ever heard in Newark (I caught just one minor error), even the rift between the Ashkenazi and the Hochdeutsch\u2014it all warms my Hebrew heart, when it\u2019s not hitting too close for comfort.<\/p>\n

More specific, and personal, examples of Pynchonicity abound in Bleeding Edge<\/i>. The author describes carousing at Danceteria (and its rest rooms) in the eighties, pigging out at all-night diners on the UWS (Greek) and the East Village (Ukrainian), fuming about queue-cutting and other urban incivilities, listening to merengue at uptown Dominican nightclubs, getting creeped out by \u201ckarmically challenged\u201d apartment buildings like the Dakota, strolling back and forth across the Brooklyn Bridge for kicks\u2014all these behaviors turn up frequently in my Big Apple CV. In fact, I took that bridge walk to view and brood on the World Trade Center\u2019s absence right around the time that two of Pynchon\u2019s characters do. As for his labeling the intersection of Seventy-Ninth Street and Broadway as the city\u2019s \u201cmost dangerous,\u201d this carries a chilling double meaning for me, since it was precisely there that I once got menaced by a lunatic with a handgun who kept shrieking in my face, \u201cI\u2019m gonna shoot that cop!<\/i> I\u2019m gonna SHOOT THAT COP!<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n

Like the fictive population of Bleeding Edge<\/i>, I\u2019ve consulted Zen-oriented therapists, mistaken strangers on the street for dead loved ones, practiced the technique of \u201cFalse Eating\u201d (in order to deceive my stepmother, whose meatloaf I hated nearly as much as I hated her), engaged in Ambien-enhanced sex, \u201csung\u201d Steely Dan at karaoke bars, enjoyed the little-known (and now-departed) stand-up comic Mitch Hedberg, collected dollar bills with homemade decorations (my prize specimen has George Washington uttering, \u201cI GREW HEMP\u201d), compared the Port Authority building to a Dantean hell, marveled at someone\u2019s extraordinary sense of smell (my fianc\u00e9e Vera could be one of the novel\u2019s \u201cprofessional Noses\u201d), joked about organized social gatherings of people with borderline personality disorder, and bought Dragon Ball Z<\/em> merchandise for my child. Parenting, incidentally, is a thread that runs throughout Bleeding Edge<\/i> and serves, in the midst of the dark philosophizing and shenanigans, as a humanizing feature. Pynchon has written about the parent-child bond before, and quite poignantly, but not until now in a manner that feels congruent with my own experience of fatherhood.<\/p>\n

Most astounding for me are the brief journeys to Montreal and Montauk described in Bleeding Edge<\/i>. During the two weeks before I started reading the book, I happen to have visited those very places myself. In Montauk, I took photos of the gigantic Cold War\u2013era radar apparatus which figures explicitly in the sinister \u201cMontauk Project\u201d Pynchon discusses. And in Montreal I experienced the coronary-baiting local specialty poutine,\u00a0French fries slathered with viscous brown gravy and melted cheese curds. \u201cAnyone who doesn\u2019t dig this doesn\u2019t dig being alive,\u201d I told Vera, mumbling because my mouth was full.<\/p>\n

Writes Pynchon, \u201cIn Montreal it\u2019s a diagnostic for moral character\u2014if somebody resists poutine, they resist life.\u201d<\/p>\n

On reading this line, two weeks after uttering the same sentiment, I put down my copy of Bleeding Edge<\/i> and sat back, slack-jawed.\u00a0Has Thomas Pynchon been spying on me? Eavesdropping on my chatter, reading my e-mails?\u00a0Going the NSA one better and following me from a sneaky half-block remove as I schlep around the city, <\/i>our city, and the wide world?<\/i><\/p>\n

Of course not. Other New York\u2013based readers of Bleeding Edge<\/i>, particularly those closer to his age and background, will no doubt discover a sense of Pynchonicity even more uncanny than mine. Even so, reading Pynchon\u2019s newest has allowed me to see myself in him for the first time. It\u2019s as though I once stood gazing through a window at the author\u2019s blurry self, yet now, with Bleeding Edge<\/i>, a light has been switched on behind me. This light has not significantly sharpened his image in the glass. But it has<\/i> superimposed over that image a surprisingly new one\u2014that of my own reflection.<\/p>\n

New York\u2013style narcissist that I am, this suits me and my Pynchonophilia just fine. Then again (and can anyone truly prove otherwise?) maybe he is<\/i> spying on me, after all.<\/p>\n

Gary Lippman is a lapsed lawyer and former Fodors travel writer whose play <\/em>Paradox Lust appeared off-Broadway, whose fiction has appeared in <\/em>Open City, and whose heart is in the Highlands.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cParanoia\u2019s the garlic in life\u2019s kitchen, right, you can never have too much,\u201d announces a character in the new novel Bleeding Edge\u2014yet because its author is Thomas Pynchon, let\u2019s not take that valorizing of paranoia too lightly; elsewhere the same character grouses about \u201cwhen paranoia gets real-world.\u201d More than any other recurring Pynchonian concept, paranoia […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":334,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[419],"tags":[11771,11772,4386],"class_list":["post-59031","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-arts-culture","tag-bleeding-edge","tag-mitch-hedberg","tag-thomas-pynchon"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nPynchonicity by Gary Lippman<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"September 5, 2013 \u2013 \u201cParanoia\u2019s the garlic in life\u2019s kitchen, right, you can never have too much,\u201d announces a character in the new novel Bleeding Edge\u2014yet because its author\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Pynchonicity by Gary Lippman\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"September 5, 2013 \u2013 \u201cParanoia\u2019s the garlic in life\u2019s kitchen, right, you can never have too much,\u201d announces a character in the new novel Bleeding Edge\u2014yet because its author\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2013-09-05T20:07:09+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/79thstreetlarge.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"600\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"450\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Gary Lippman\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Gary Lippman\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"6 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"Gary Lippman\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/a7189cde5dd2d04c31785bedcbb839e1\"},\"headline\":\"Pynchonicity\",\"datePublished\":\"2013-09-05T20:07:09+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/\"},\"wordCount\":1169,\"commentCount\":8,\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/79thstreetlarge.jpg\",\"keywords\":[\"Bleeding Edge\",\"Mitch Hedberg\",\"Thomas Pynchon\"],\"articleSection\":[\"Arts & Culture\"],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"CommentAction\",\"name\":\"Comment\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#respond\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/\",\"name\":\"Pynchonicity by Gary Lippman\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/79thstreetlarge.jpg\",\"datePublished\":\"2013-09-05T20:07:09+00:00\",\"description\":\"September 5, 2013 \u2013 \u201cParanoia\u2019s the garlic in life\u2019s kitchen, right, you can never have too much,\u201d announces a character in the new novel Bleeding Edge\u2014yet because its author\",\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/79thstreetlarge.jpg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/79thstreetlarge.jpg\"},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"Pynchonicity\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\",\"name\":\"The Paris Review\",\"description\":\"The best prose, interviews, poetry, and art. Since 1953.\",\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Organization\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\",\"name\":\"The Paris Review\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\",\"logo\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png\",\"width\":696,\"height\":696,\"caption\":\"The Paris Review\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/\"},\"sameAs\":[\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\",\"https:\/\/x.com\/parisreview\",\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/parisreview\"]},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/a7189cde5dd2d04c31785bedcbb839e1\",\"name\":\"Gary Lippman\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/02a3cfa245351d49c9cd80e105f983c765a829d0032dffe1031659616c61d5d8?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/02a3cfa245351d49c9cd80e105f983c765a829d0032dffe1031659616c61d5d8?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Gary Lippman\"},\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/author\/glippman\/\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO Premium plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"Pynchonicity by Gary Lippman","description":"September 5, 2013 \u2013 \u201cParanoia\u2019s the garlic in life\u2019s kitchen, right, you can never have too much,\u201d announces a character in the new novel Bleeding Edge\u2014yet because its author","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"Pynchonicity by Gary Lippman","og_description":"September 5, 2013 \u2013 \u201cParanoia\u2019s the garlic in life\u2019s kitchen, right, you can never have too much,\u201d announces a character in the new novel Bleeding Edge\u2014yet because its author","og_url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/","og_site_name":"The Paris Review","article_publisher":"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/","article_published_time":"2013-09-05T20:07:09+00:00","og_image":[{"width":600,"height":450,"url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/79thstreetlarge.jpg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"Gary Lippman","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_creator":"@parisreview","twitter_site":"@parisreview","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Gary Lippman","Est. reading time":"6 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"Article","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#article","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/"},"author":{"name":"Gary Lippman","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/a7189cde5dd2d04c31785bedcbb839e1"},"headline":"Pynchonicity","datePublished":"2013-09-05T20:07:09+00:00","mainEntityOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/"},"wordCount":1169,"commentCount":8,"publisher":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/79thstreetlarge.jpg","keywords":["Bleeding Edge","Mitch Hedberg","Thomas Pynchon"],"articleSection":["Arts & Culture"],"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"CommentAction","name":"Comment","target":["https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#respond"]}]},{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/","name":"Pynchonicity by Gary Lippman","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/79thstreetlarge.jpg","datePublished":"2013-09-05T20:07:09+00:00","description":"September 5, 2013 \u2013 \u201cParanoia\u2019s the garlic in life\u2019s kitchen, right, you can never have too much,\u201d announces a character in the new novel Bleeding Edge\u2014yet because its author","breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/79thstreetlarge.jpg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/79thstreetlarge.jpg"},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/09\/05\/pynchonicity\/#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"Pynchonicity"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/","name":"The Paris Review","description":"The best prose, interviews, poetry, and art. Since 1953.","publisher":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization"},"potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Organization","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization","name":"The Paris Review","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/","logo":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png","contentUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png","width":696,"height":696,"caption":"The Paris Review"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/"},"sameAs":["https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/","https:\/\/x.com\/parisreview","https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/parisreview"]},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/a7189cde5dd2d04c31785bedcbb839e1","name":"Gary Lippman","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/02a3cfa245351d49c9cd80e105f983c765a829d0032dffe1031659616c61d5d8?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/02a3cfa245351d49c9cd80e105f983c765a829d0032dffe1031659616c61d5d8?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Gary Lippman"},"url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/author\/glippman\/"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/59031","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/334"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=59031"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/59031\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":59048,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/59031\/revisions\/59048"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=59031"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=59031"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=59031"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}