{"id":84706,"date":"2015-04-10T20:03:38","date_gmt":"2015-04-11T00:03:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=84706"},"modified":"2015-04-12T18:48:31","modified_gmt":"2015-04-12T22:48:31","slug":"staff-picks-self-regard-strokes-of-color-stchoopidity","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/04\/10\/staff-picks-self-regard-strokes-of-color-stchoopidity\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Self-regard, Strokes of Color, Stchoopidity"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_84707\" style=\"width: 610px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/fredriech.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-84707\" class=\"wp-image-84707\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/fredriech.png\" alt=\"fredriech\" width=\"600\" height=\"246\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/fredriech.png 1258w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/fredriech-300x123.png 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/fredriech-1024x420.png 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-84707\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Friedel Dzubas, <em>Procession<\/em>, 1975, acrylic on canvas, 9&#8242; 6&#8243; x 24&#8242; 6&#8243;.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>\u201c \u2018Don\u2019t be stchoopid. It was just a one-night stand. We\u2019re not in love or anything!\u2019 \u201d Remember when people used to talk that way? Neither do I, which is one reason I\u2019m grateful to Ben Lerner for making me read Helen Garner\u2019s novella <em><a href=\"http:\/\/books.google.com\/books\/about\/The_Children_s_Bach.html?id=FvsdAAAAMAAJ\" target=\"_blank\">The Children\u2019s Bach<\/a><\/em>, about a marital crisis in early-eighties Melbourne\u2014at that giddy moment when sexual liberation and women\u2019s lib were still inextricably part of the same deal.\u00a0\u2014<strong>Lorin Stein<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>In 1975, Friedel Dzubas made a monumental painting for the Shawmut Bank in Boston. <em>Crossing<\/em> was fifty-seven feet long and thirteen feet tall and was executed\u00a0on a single canvas. It hung in the bank\u2019s lobby for some twenty years, until the bank closed and the painting disappeared. There is no record of its sale. A study for <em>Crossing<\/em> is <a href=\"http:\/\/lorettahoward.com\/content\/friedel-dzubas-5\" target=\"_blank\">on view at Loretta Howard Gallery<\/a>, in New York, as part of their centennial exhibition of Dzubas\u2019s work, and it\u2019s a lovely thing in and of itself. On a long orange rectangle, Dzubas made dozens of variously sized, wide black marks that could be a kind of writing were it not for a pair of human figures penciled in at the side of the sketch, for a rough sense of scale (the figures are, in fact, too tall in relation to the enormous painting). The German-born Dzubas once studied with Paul Klee and was the summer roommate, in 1948, of Clement Greenberg; he falls into the Color Field camp with artists such as Helen Frankenthaler and Morris Louis. His paintings on view at the gallery are all from the seventies and are great examples of his big, loose strokes of color that seem, despite their girth, to race across the canvas with Futuristic velocity. Art, for Dzubas, was about moving outside of ourselves and experiencing something larger and being affected by that experience\u2014a feeling, he thought, that was \u201calmost as good as making love.\u201d \u2014<strong>Nicole Rudick<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>You\u2019ve found me at AWP, the Association of Writers and Writing Programs: a fine place to discover new magazines, but also to witness every possible form of literose peacocking. (Panels, to give you some idea, include \u201cMicroaggressions in the Workshop,\u201d \u201cMelancholy and the Literary Uses of Sadness,\u201d and \u201cI Am We As You Are Me: Exploring Pronouns in Experimental Poetry.\u201d) Amid the rampant self-promotion and nine-dollar gyros, I\u2019ve dipped into Tim Parks\u2019s <em><a href=\"http:\/\/www.nybooks.com\/books\/imprints\/collections\/where_im_reading_from\/\" target=\"_blank\">Where I\u2019m Reading From: The Changing World of Books<\/a><\/em>, which offers a much-needed corrective. For the past few years, Parks has contributed <a href=\"http:\/\/www.nybooks.com\/contributors\/tim-parks-2\/?tab=tab-blog\" target=\"_blank\">regular columns<\/a> on writing and reading to the <em>New York Review of Books<\/em>, carefully rebutting the notion that there\u2019s anything ennobling about life as a writer. Taken as a collection, these pieces amount to a fortifying reassessment of literature\u2019s place in the culture. \u201cPerhaps in the end it\u2019s just ridiculous,\u201d he writes, \u201cthe high opinion we have of books, of literature. Perhaps it\u2019s just a collective spell of self-regard, self-congratulation \u2026 we may be going to hell, but look how well we write about it.\u201d \u2014<strong>Dan Piepenbring<\/strong>\u00a0<!--more--><\/p>\n<p>It is rare these days to see any twitch in Don Draper\u2019s swagger\u2014yet the midseason premiere of <em>Mad Men<\/em>\u2019s final season gives us just that. \u201cSeverance\u201d centers on Don\u2019s discovery that a former mistress\u2014the woman he famously told that love didn\u2019t exist, that \u201cwhat you call love was invented by guys like me, to sell nylons\u201d\u2014has died of cancer. His queries about her recent life are met with the curt response from her sister that \u201cshe lived the life she wanted to live\u201d\u2014obviously an impossible thought for Don, who, despite having gotten away with the exposure of his stolen identity, his infidelities, his alcoholism, remains as morose and detached as ever. In perhaps the most moving moment of the episode, he enters his apartment, turns on the light, looks around, and turns it off again. His state of mind recalls one of his brilliant sales pitches from bygone years: \u201cYou are hungry even though you\u2019ve just eaten.\u201d Having shown us how essential a good anticlimax can be, <em>Mad Men<\/em> is now the subject of endless speculation: What do the\u00a0final episodes have in store? This is a promising start. \u2014<strong>Kit Connolly <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The <a href=\"http:\/\/franklinparkbrooklyn.com\/reading-series\/\" target=\"_blank\">Franklin Park Reading Series<\/a>, held in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, on the second Monday of every month, always includes an impressive lineup. The focus, according to the founder, Penina Roth, is \u201clanguage-driven, innovative literature and stories told in unconventional ways\u201d; the venue is a spacious, dimly lit, wooden bar hidden behind an old-fashioned burger joint. You have to come early to get a seat, but when the whispers die down, the readings never fail to impress\u2014last month\u2019s featured Matt Sumell, and next Monday, Colson Whitehead and Amelia Gray are among the authors to take the stage. \u2014<strong>Alexandra Rezvina<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>\u201c \u2018Don\u2019t be stchoopid. It was just a one-night stand. We\u2019re not in love or anything!\u2019 \u201d Remember when people used to talk that way? Neither do I, which is one reason I\u2019m grateful to Ben Lerner for making me read Helen Garner\u2019s novella The Children\u2019s Bach, about a marital crisis in early-eighties Melbourne\u2014at that [&hellip;]<\/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":[10328,17736,17734,17733,17737,676,17735,7014],"class_list":["post-84706","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-awp","tag-franklin-park","tag-friedel-dzubas","tag-helen-garner","tag-loretta-howard-gallery","tag-mad-men","tag-penina-roth","tag-tim-parks"],"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: Helen Garner, Tim Parks, Friedel Dzubas<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"What the staff of \u201cThe Paris Review\u201d is reading this week.\" \/>\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\/2015\/04\/10\/staff-picks-self-regard-strokes-of-color-stchoopidity\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Staff Picks: Self-regard, Strokes of Color, Stchoopidity by The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"April 10, 2015 \u2013 \u201c \u2018Don\u2019t be stchoopid. 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