{"id":76380,"date":"2014-09-05T18:56:21","date_gmt":"2014-09-05T22:56:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=76380"},"modified":"2014-09-05T19:44:46","modified_gmt":"2014-09-05T23:44:46","slug":"staff-picks-beard-burdened-and-beer-branded","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/09\/05\/staff-picks-beard-burdened-and-beer-branded\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Beard-Burdened and Beer-Branded"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"History<\/a><\/p>\n

The Jeff Koons show has a little more than a month to go in its run at the Whitney Museum, and it\u2019s been perplexing to see critics fall in with an artist whose work is the archetype of the money-driven art production about which many of them complain. To me, Koons\u2019s work is all surface\u2014literally and figuratively\u2014and he seems to avail himself of Duchamp\u2019s and Warhol\u2019s legacies in order to promote, in art, wily marketing strategies gleaned during his years as a Wall Street commodities trader. It was a pleasure, then, to read Jed Perl\u2019s assessment in The New York Review of Books<\/em><\/a>. Perl rebuffs the idea that Koons\u2019s work critiques middle-class values, concluding instead that it is the \u201capotheosis of Walmart\u201d and \u201ca habit-forming drug for the superrich\u201d and that Koons is a too-confident exhibitionist. I find something immensely powerful in Perl\u2019s tracing of the tradition of doubt in art\u2014from Pliny to Michelangelo to Chardin\u2014and in his conclusion that \u201cwhere there is no doubt there is no art.\u201d \u2014Nicole Rudick<\/strong><\/p>\n

The story of Bluebeard, the wife-murdering aristocrat made famous in Charles Perrault\u2019s seventeenth-century folktale, has captured the imagination of writers from the Brothers Grimm to Angela Carter. But William Thackeray\u2019s lesser-known sequel to the hero\u2019s bride-butchering, Bluebeard\u2019s Ghost<\/a><\/em>, tells the story through new eyes\u2014specifically those of the final Mrs. Bluebeard, who escapes her husband\u2019s clutches and goes on to inherit his estate. Pursued by numerous suitors, she opts for the equally hirsute \u201cCaptain Blackbeard, whose whiskers vied in magnitude with those of the deceased Bluebeard himself.\u201d In true Thackeray style, he manages to transform a famously macabre narrative into a comic and playful study of human foibles, with the subjects inflated into caricatures of their former selves. Fittingly, September 5 marks the day that Tsar Peter the Great issued his \u201cbeard tax\u201d of 1705, presenting those men determined enough to protect their hair with a hundred-rouble fee and a token bearing the words \u201cthe beard is a superfluous burden<\/a>.\u201d Thackeray\u2019s tale is surely the other side of this coin: although his take on one of the most famous beards in literature is undeniably far-fetched, it is by no means a superfluous addition to the original. As he puts it himself, \u201cPsha! Isn\u2019t it written in a book? And is it a whit less probable than the first part of the tale?\u201d \u2014Helena Sutcliffe<\/strong><\/p>\n

If you\u2019re looking to become productively, righteously, vindictively angry, read this piece in the Times<\/em><\/a> about Crested Butte, Colorado, a town that will become, this weekend, an advertisement for Bud Light. Yes, entirely: \u201cThe town\u2019s main thoroughfare, Elk Avenue, has been adorned with outdoor hot tubs, a sand pit, concert lights and a stage. Restaurants and hotels have been stripped of many local markings and given beer-branded umbrellas and signs instead. When the filming starts, drinks will be unlimited, access to the main street will be restricted to people with company-issued bracelets, and beautiful, mountain-ringed Crested Butte will be rebranded as \u2018Whatever, USA.\u2019\u2009\u201d The mayor made the deal in secret, for $500,000; his name is Huckstep. The whole thing seems like an episode from a lesser George Saunders story. One can react only with scorn, and then one must trot out that shopworn but ever more vital statement of Philip Roth\u2019s, from 1961: \u201cThe American writer \u2026 has his hands full in trying to understand, describe and then make credible much of American reality \u2026 It stupefies, it sickens, it infuriates and finally it is even a kind of embarrassment to one\u2019s own meager imagination. The actuality is continually outdoing our talents.\u201d \u2014Dan Piepenbring<\/strong><\/p>\n

I could write about how much I\u2019ve been watching the U.S. Open: how captivating the sport\u2019s collision of intelligence and athleticism is, with its displays of raw emotion every time a player lunges to return a serve. But after reading Ben Rothenberg\u2019s excellent essay<\/a> on what it takes to be a line umpire, I\u2019ve found my eyes veering toward the edges of the television set. While the task seems simple\u2014\u201cto sit or stand around the perimeter of the counter and monitor one specific line\u201d\u2014the preparation is intense. Understanding the patterns of each specific player helps to ensure no sight goes obscured. What\u2019s even more fascinating is just as players advance through the tournament, so do line umpires. As Rothenberg writes, \u201cBy the final, the cream of the crop remains.\u201d\u00a0\u2014Justin Alvarez<\/strong><\/p>\n

I was excited to see that the NYRB<\/em> unlocked an essay, from 1985<\/a>, by Umberto Eco on Krazy Kat<\/em> and Peanuts<\/em>. He\u2019s good on the former, but on the latter, I found him to be inadvertently hilarious in his too-Freudian approach. He refers to Charlie Brown and the gang as \u201cmonster children,\u201d distillations of modern industrial society\u2019s neuroses. Poor Chuck is perhaps the most victimized: \u201cThis is why he is always on the brink of suicide or at least of nervous breakdown: because he seeks salvation through the routine formulas suggested to him by the society in which he lives (the art of making friends, culture in four easy lessons, the pursuit of happiness, how to make out with girls\u2014he has been ruined, obviously, by Dr. Kinsey, Dale Carnegie, Erich Fromm, and Lin Yutang).\u201d \u2014N.R.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Jeff Koons show has a little more than a month to go in its run at the Whitney Museum, and it\u2019s been perplexing to see critics fall in with an artist whose work is the archetype of the money-driven art production about which many of them complain. To me, Koons\u2019s work is all surface\u2014literally […]<\/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":[15209,15210,1389,6416,4638,10500],"class_list":["post-76380","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-bluebeards-ghost","tag-crested-butte","tag-jed-perl","tag-jeff-koons","tag-the-new-york-review-of-books","tag-william-thackeray"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nThis Week\u2019s Staff Picks: Beard-Burdened and Beer-Branded<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"The cult of Jeff Koons, the small town that has become a beer ad, and Umberto Eco on Charlie Brown.\" \/>\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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