Otto Penzler has a terrific idea: Draft French journalists to cover significant crimes in American history. Crime writing is, by definition, sociology; by looking at a murder, a journalist is looking at a society and its perversions. It's possible that an "outsider" is clearer and sharper than Katie Couric or Rachel Maddow. Chandra Levy disappeared shortly before 9/11. She was working as an intern in Washington, DC, and she was having an affair with the congressman Gary Condit. Condit lied--many times--about the affair, so he began to look like a murderer. (It doesn't matter that there is at least sometimes a difference between being a liar and being a murderer. Americans tend to jump to conclusions.) After the Chandra Levy affair ruined his life, Condit became the owner of a Baskin Robbins outpost; eventually, Baskin Robbins asked to be removed from all of Condit's merch, signage, and paperwork. But Condit continued to call himself the owner of a local "Ba...
There is a strange story subset--the set called "stories about community theater." In these plots, the actors' lives tend to blend with the characters' lives. People make discoveries through playacting. In "A Streetcar Named Marge," Marge Simpson begins to understand the dimensions of Homer's monstrousness. She learns through her contemplation of Stanley Kowalski. In Alice Munro's story, "The Children Stay," Pauline is playing Eurydice. She thinks about Orpheus: This guy had an impossible choice. He could commit to not looking backward--and could thus ensure his future happiness. Or he could look backward--confirm that his beloved is safe as she literally crawls through hell--lose everything. One look backward will ruin Orpheus's life. (Pauline has a similar choice. If she frees herself from her oppressive marriage, she might lose her relationship with her children.) This is the kind of story that Kevin Kline's new series wants to...