{"id":70720,"date":"2014-05-02T17:06:10","date_gmt":"2014-05-02T21:06:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=70720"},"modified":"2014-05-02T19:46:25","modified_gmt":"2014-05-02T23:46:25","slug":"what-were-loving-spiders-spaces-stinkin-hot-nights","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/05\/02\/what-were-loving-spiders-spaces-stinkin-hot-nights\/","title":{"rendered":"What We\u2019re Loving: Spiders, Spaces, Stinkin\u2019-Hot Nights"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"The-Space-Between_0173-19\"<\/a>

An exhibition image from Marc Yankus\u2019s \u201cThe Space Between,\u201d at ClampArt.<\/p><\/div>\n

If I had to teach a class on the Framing Device, the first thing I\u2019d make them read is Jeremias Gotthelf\u2019s 1842 novella The Black Spider<\/a><\/em>, recently published in a new and (to this non-German-reader) magical translation by Susan Bernofsky. The opening scene is a christening in the Swiss countryside: idyllic, sentimental, lovingly detailed. Then one of the guests notices a strange blackened post in the house where the festivities are held, an old man begins to tell the story of how it got there \u2026 and in no time things have gotten very weird indeed, and they continue<\/em> weird even when the story ends, the idyll stained by the past. A fairytale for grownups, an early horror story, an allegory of the Black Death or of sin\u2014however you read it, it has the deep logic of a dream.\u00a0\u2014Lorin Stein<\/strong><\/p>\n

Sometimes I\u2019ll Google some nouns with a writer\u2019s name, hoping to discover that said writer has miraculously published a piece about said nouns. This usually doesn\u2019t work out for me\u2014zero results for \u201cNorman Rush + Botswana + heavy-metal leather subculture,\u201d and zero more for \u201cJonathan Lethem + Larry Levan + Paradise Garage + disco\u201d\u2014but lightning can strike, as it did with \u201cRichard Ben Cramer + baseball + Baltimore.\u201d That led me to Cramer\u2019s \u201cA Native Son\u2019s Thoughts (Many of Them Heretical) About Baltimore (Which Isn\u2019t What It Used to Be), Baseball (Which Isn\u2019t What It Used to Be) and the Steadfast Perfection of Cal Ripken Jr. (Which Is Ever Unchanging, Fairly Complicated and Truly Something to Behold)<\/a>,\u201d published in Sports Illustrated <\/em>circa 1995. Hot dog! As its forty-four-word title indicates, this piece has it all. There\u2019s baseball, which, for reasons that remain unclear, I\u2019ve begun to enjoy watching; there\u2019s Baltimore, where I grew up; and there\u2019s the vigorous prose from Cramer, whose masterpiece on the 1988 election, What It Takes<\/em>, I\u2019ve just finished, thus creating a void that can only be filled with more Cramer. When I read the first clause (\u201cIt\u2019s a stinkin\u2019-hot night at the ballpark\u201d) I knew I was safe for a little while longer. \u2014Dan Piepenbring<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cThe Space Between<\/a>,\u201d Marc Yankus\u2019s show at Clamp Art, is on now through May 17; it reveals a new side of the artist. His earlier images explored his love of color washes and blurred shapes\u2014photography that sometimes looked as though it had been printed on a wet surface. With this new body of work, Yankus has written a love letter to the stonemasons, bricklayers, and architects of an ever-evolving New York City landscape. The detail captured in these photographs is unreal and meditative; he\u2019s shot these monumental buildings sometimes at great heights and always from their best angles. A master of minute detail, Yankus invites us to study the individual bricks right down to the fine cement layers that seal them together. Though people are ever-present in these works, there\u2019s not a soul to be found. It lends a ghostly beauty to these prints, making it exceedingly difficult to pick a favorite. \u2014Charlotte Strick<\/strong><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve been reading Adam Shatz\u2019s vivid remembrance<\/a> of the journalist and historian Patrick Seale, who died last month. Seale wrote the two best books on modern Syrian politics, in English or any other language. The Ba\u2019athists in Damascus trusted him and the Western spymasters learned from him. And what a time it was for foreign correspondents, especially if you lived in Beirut. As Shatz writes, \u201cIt was the\u00a0Mad Men<\/em>\u00a0era of Middle East reporting, a time of high living and high-stakes intrigue \u2026 The correspondent\u2019s calendar was marked by revolutionary conspiracies; many were first reported as rumors, sometimes overheard at the bar of the St. George Hotel, where spies, arms dealers, diplomats and other adventurers gathered at the end of the day.\u201d \u2014Robyn Creswell<\/strong> <\/p>\n

A Woman in Berlin<\/a><\/em>, a diary of the final days of Nazi Berlin, and its fall to the Russian army of 1945, by an anonymous German woman, tells a story that is sometimes left out of World War Two narratives: the horror that Hitler inflicted on ordinary German people. All the violent savagery that German troops dealt out to their \u201cinferior\u201d Slavic neighbors is returned tenfold as Russian troops rape and pillage their way through what is left of German homes, answering Hitler\u2019s scorched earth policy with their own form of angry nihilism. The author, whoever she is, wrote the diary for her husband, so he could understand what had happened after their lives had been rebuilt, though their marriage didn\u2019t survive their different experiences of the war. The language in the translation by Philip Boehm is beautiful, and the book is not nearly as depressing as I\u2019ve made it seem. \u2014Anna Heyward<\/strong><\/p>\n

Every day the poet Gilberto Owen weighed himself at the 116th Street subway station, and every day his weight was always less. \u201cI suppose that\u2019s what illness is like: you stand down and are replaced by the ghost of yourself.\u201d This is just one of the three stories that weaves its way through Valeria Luiselli\u2019s masterful Faces in the Crowd<\/a><\/em>, a novel in which people die many times just to wake up right where they left off; people come and go by the whim of a pen tip; and Ezra Pound stands on a platform for a train he\u2019ll never board. \u2014Justin Alvarez<\/strong><\/p>\n

On Afghanistan\u2019s border, Pashtun women sing Landays<\/a>\u2014couplets that end with the sound \u201cma\u201d or \u201cna,\u201d with nine syllables on the first line and thirteen on the second. Anonymity is key to their survival and their tradition; these poems are supposed to belong to no woman and every woman. We always see Afghan women portrayed as weepy or silently suffering; here they chortle, roll their eyes, bitch, and suffer on their own terms. \u201cMaking love to an old man \/ is like fucking a shriveled cornstalk black with mold.\u201d Black and white photos\u00a0contextualize these \u201cscraps of song\u201d with uncomfortable clarity. I especially like one of fluffy black goats sniffing around a ruin that could have been ruined by time or drones or both. \u2014Nikkitha Bakshani<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

If I had to teach a class on the Framing Device, the first thing I\u2019d make them read is Jeremias Gotthelf\u2019s 1842 novella The Black Spider, recently published in a new and (to this non-German-reader) magical translation by Susan Bernofsky. The opening scene is a christening in the Swiss countryside: idyllic, sentimental, lovingly detailed. Then […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[438],"tags":[13780,8191,2522,9321,375,13782,13778,13775,13783,13777,13779,13120,13396,13776,13781,2021],"class_list":["post-70720","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-a-woman-in-berlin","tag-adam-shatz","tag-afghanistan","tag-baltimore","tag-baseball","tag-cal-ripken-jr","tag-clampart","tag-jeremias-gotthelf","tag-landays","tag-marc-tankus","tag-patrick-seale","tag-richard-ben-cramer","tag-sports-illustrated","tag-susan-bernofsky","tag-valeria-luiselli","tag-world-war-ii"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWhat We\u2019re Loving: Spiders, Spaces, Stinkin\u2019-Hot Nights<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"A love letter to the architects of an ever-evolving New York City landscape, the ghost of Gilberto 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