{"id":90504,"date":"2015-10-02T16:00:11","date_gmt":"2015-10-02T20:00:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=90504"},"modified":"2015-10-02T16:34:24","modified_gmt":"2015-10-02T20:34:24","slug":"staff-picks-sinister-clowns-ferocious-beasts-pigs","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/10\/02\/staff-picks-sinister-clowns-ferocious-beasts-pigs\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Sinister Clowns, Ferocious Beasts, Pigs"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_90508\" style=\"width: 610px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/gleipnirwaltonford.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-90508\" class=\"wp-image-90508\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/gleipnirwaltonford.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"319\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/gleipnirwaltonford.jpg 800w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/gleipnirwaltonford-300x159.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-90508\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Walton Ford, <i>Gleipnir<\/i>, 2012, watercolor, gouache, ink, pencil on paper, 69&#8243; x 120&#8243;.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>My favorite chapter in Valeria Luiselli\u2019s wonderful, unusual new novel,\u00a0<em><a href=\"http:\/\/coffeehousepress.org\/shop\/the-story-of-my-teeth\/\" target=\"_blank\">The Story of My Teeth<\/a><\/em>, is \u201cThe Parabolics,\u201d in which the book\u2019s protagonist, Highway, wakes to discover that all his teeth are missing and that he is in the midst of the supremely creepy Ugo Rondinone video installation\u00a0<em>Where Do We Go from Here<\/em>; that is, he finds himself confronted on four sides by a quartet of lethargic, staring, \u201csinister\u201d clowns, \u201ca hell worse than the one that had installed itself inside my mouth.\u201d A disembodied, rather unkind voice relates a series of parables to Highway throughout the chapter, so it seemed safe to\u00a0assume that the chapter title referred to these. But Highway doesn\u2019t understand any of the stories, and in fact his thoughts seem to circle around the idea expressed by\u00a0Rondinone\u2019s title. \u201cWhere am I supposed to go?\u201d he queries the voice. \u201cParabolics\u201d might also refer to \u201cparabolas,\u201d a series of curves\u2014or perhaps (attempted) leaps over \u201cthe schism between the perception you have yourself and the perception other people have of you.\u201d Maybe I\u2019m taking a leap myself. But: \u201cI\u2019ve always thought that hell is the people you could one day become,\u201d Highway thinks. \u201cAnd there I was, toothless, lying on a bench in front of videotaped projections of enormous buffoons, dozing \u2026 being mistaking for one of them.\u201d \u2014<strong>Nicole Rudick<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>A recent <a href=\"http:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/2015\/09\/22\/arts\/international\/inside-walton-fords-brutal-world-of-man-and-beast.html\" target=\"_blank\">piece in the <em>Times<\/em> on Walton Ford<\/a> made me remember: I really enjoy the work of Walton Ford. His paintings, which I first saw at the Brooklyn Museum in 2006, depict ferocious animals doing ferocious things, ferociously; they\u2019re set in a welter of copulation and violence at the edge of human society, and in a lot of them, nineteenth-century aristocrats are on hunting trips gone seriously awry. I\u2019m envious of anyone in Paris who gets to see his fifteen new works at the\u00a0Mus\u00e9e de la Chasse, a museum dedicated to hunters and animals that \u201cessentially documents our historical fear of being eaten alive,\u201d as Matthew Rose puts it in the <em>Times<\/em>, and thus a perfect venue for Ford\u2019s work. In one new painting, <em>Representation V\u00e9ritable<\/em>, a massive black creature based on the <a href=\"https:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Beast_of_G%C3%A9vaudan\" target=\"_blank\">Beast of G\u00e9vaudan<\/a> has a wolf by the jugular; in the background, two women are at rest (maybe forever?) in an idyllic meadow. Ford\u2019s paintings are musky, unsparing allegories for colonialism, industrialism, and a host of other noxious -isms, and no one should discount their formal ingenuity\u2014but none of it would matter if they weren\u2019t, at their most literal level, so terrifying. \u2014<strong>Dan Piepenbring\u00a0<\/strong><!--more--><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/productimage-picture-sleepless-nights-48_f987fc8e-2502-4b47-a82d-83a4b8b600ae_2048x2048.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-90510\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/productimage-picture-sleepless-nights-48_f987fc8e-2502-4b47-a82d-83a4b8b600ae_2048x2048.png\" alt=\"productimage-picture-sleepless-nights-48_f987fc8e-2502-4b47-a82d-83a4b8b600ae_2048x2048\" width=\"600\" height=\"960\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/productimage-picture-sleepless-nights-48_f987fc8e-2502-4b47-a82d-83a4b8b600ae_2048x2048.png 600w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/productimage-picture-sleepless-nights-48_f987fc8e-2502-4b47-a82d-83a4b8b600ae_2048x2048-188x300.png 188w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>Reading <em>The Paris Review<\/em>\u2019s 1985 <a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/interviews\/2893\/the-art-of-fiction-no-87-elizabeth-hardwick\" target=\"_blank\">interview with Elizabeth Hardwick<\/a> led me to revisit her autobiographical novel, <em><a href=\"http:\/\/www.nyrb.com\/products\/sleepless-nights?variant=1094931289\" target=\"_blank\">Sleepless Nights<\/a><\/em>. In the interview\u2019s opening exchange, Hardwick is playfully accused of not liking to talk about herself. \u201cWell,\u201d she replies, dodging a confession, \u201cI do a lot of talking and the \u2018I\u2019 is not often absent.\u201d True to form, in <em>Sleepless Nights<\/em>, Hardwick reveals the facts of her life with dreamlike reticence. When I read it for the first time, I hadn\u2019t known\u00a0that she was married to Robert Lowell. So it was only later that I understood what \u201cthe torment of personal relations,\u201d as Hardwick puts it in the novel, might have meant to her. <em>Sleepless Nights<\/em> is not really\u2014or not only\u2014the story of a marriage, though. We learn about Hardwick\u2019s Kentucky childhood and how she arrived in New York, but along the way, she haunts and is haunted by the lives of other women: by the drudgery of Josette and Ida, by Louisa\u2019s boredom, by Billie Holiday\u2019s \u201cluminous self-destruction.\u201d Toward the end of <em>Sleepless Nights<\/em>, Hardwick writes, \u201cSometimes, I resent the glossary, the concordance of truth, many have about my real life.\u201d At the same time, she admits, \u201cOtherwise I love to be known by those I care for.\u201d \u2014<strong>Hannah LeClair<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>At the Windham-Campbell Festival in New Haven this week, Michael Cunningham moderated a discussion on the art of fiction with Helon Habila, Teju Cole, and Ivan Vladislavic. Vladislavic made two comments that brought to mind one of his early works, <em><a href=\"http:\/\/www.indiebound.org\/book\/9781908276322?aff=PublishersWeekly\" target=\"_blank\">The Restless Supermarket<\/a><\/em>. Reflecting on the \u201cpurpose\u201d of fiction, he said, \u201cfiction reveals to you the shape of another life, and the texture of language.\u201d Later, he mused on how the spatial dynamics of race and class in South Africa impressed themselves on his authorial signature: \u201cI started writing in a place where space was profoundly engineered, profoundly structured. Apartheid was essentially spatial. From the moment I began to write I was interested in the human being in a particular context.\u201d In <em>The Restless Supermarket<\/em>, the protagonist, Aubrey Tearle, confronts Johannesburg in the early 1990s, in the thick of South Africa\u2019s belated transition to democracy. A conservative, retired proofreader of the telephone directory, he displaces his anxiety about an uncertain future, in which his own relevance remains concealed, onto the \u201ccorrigenda\u201d he begins to see all around him\u2014from spelling errors in menus to toppled supermarket marketing symbols. Vladislavic creates a playful and telling vignette of social and political change as it arises in everyday life. \u2014<strong>Joshua Maserow<\/strong><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_90511\" style=\"width: 610px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/black-mirror-national-anthem-prime-minister-pig.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-90511\" class=\"wp-image-90511\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/black-mirror-national-anthem-prime-minister-pig.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"338\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/black-mirror-national-anthem-prime-minister-pig.png 636w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/black-mirror-national-anthem-prime-minister-pig-300x169.png 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-90511\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">From <i>Black Mirror<\/i>.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>The best response to David Cameron\u2019s alleged porcine indiscretion appears in the<em>\u00a0London Review of Books<\/em>, in Nick Richardson\u2019s remembrance of the club\u2019s druggy, orgiastic parties past: \u201c<a href=\"http:\/\/www.lrb.co.uk\/v37\/n19\/nick-richardson\/short-cuts\" target=\"_blank\">Fucking a pig\u2019s head is not what makes David Cameron a rubbish prime minister<\/a>.\u201d But the most bizarrely prescient anticipation of the act came four years ago, in the great British TV satire <em>Black Mirror<\/em>, a harrowing fun-house examination of the profoundly personal consequences of overreaching, alienating technology. In its first episode, \u201cThe National Anthem,\u201d a fresh-faced, earnest prime minister confronts an impossible decision\u2014which, coincidentally, is pig related. I won\u2019t spoil it further. I\u2019ll only say that it<em>\u00a0<\/em>manages to fashion, from a rude joke, a perverted moment of the world-historical, giving us a portrait of the contemporary political climate at once bleak, poignant, and devastatingly funny. \u2014<strong>Henri Lipton<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>My favorite chapter in Valeria Luiselli\u2019s wonderful, unusual new novel,\u00a0The Story of My Teeth, is \u201cThe Parabolics,\u201d in which the book\u2019s protagonist, Highway, wakes to discover that all his teeth are missing and that he is in the midst of the supremely creepy Ugo Rondinone video installation\u00a0Where Do We Go from Here; that is, he [&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":[19637,19639,8294,631,10954,19638,19636,13781,444],"class_list":["post-90504","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-beast-of-gevaudan","tag-black-mirror","tag-david-cameron","tag-elizabeth-hardwick","tag-ivan-vladislavic","tag-sleepless-nights","tag-the-story-of-my-teeth","tag-valeria-luiselli","tag-walton-ford"],"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: Valeria Luiselli, Walton Ford, Elizabeth Hardwick<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"What the staff of The Paris Review is reading this week.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, 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