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Missing White Woman

  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...
Recent posts

Laura Linney: "American Classic"

  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...

My Doctor

My doctor clears his throat. "You gained nine pounds, and your cholesterol is through the roof. Can you explain that?" It's moments like these that make me think I'm dealing with a serial killer. I think I *can* explain the weight gain, but is this really necessary? As silence fills the room, I begin to understand that I need to cough up an itemized list of foods I've eaten recently. So I offer my (edited) version. Another silence--as if the room itself is saying, " I know you are lying ." The doctor suggests that salmon would be a great choice. I nod with zeal. Problem solved! "Hey, try to get up earlier. Spend more time on that exercise bike." I'm tempted to respond. "Enjoy your weekend....but don't murder too many kittens....." Instead, I wear a happy face--a face that is dreaming of many salmon entrees--and I leave the room.  

On Kevin Henkes

"Spring is a surprise." The days become strange. On certain mornings, the sun is out, "warming the wind." On other days, the snow returns; you need six layers of clothing; colleagues make allusions to "snowmaggedon."  That's the entire plot of Kevin Henkes's new book. The main reason I like the book is that it seems like a "greatest hits" tour for Henkes; we have the kitten from "Kitten's First Full Moon," we have the carriage from "Julius." We have the flowers from "My Garden." I also appreciate the sense of rhythm: Yes, said the flowers in the garden. Yes, said the buds on the branches. Yes, said the birds in the sky. The rule of threes: the sun is "warming the wind and melting the snow and calling the animals." Gorgeous book.  

What I'm Reading Right Now

  *"The Red Devil." A perfect opening: "The day after my divorce, I discovered that I had cancer." A perfect title -- the red devil is not the disease but the cure, a particularly vicious form of chemotherapy. Katherine Rich was a wonderful writer (and more than a little indebted to Lorrie Moore). The theme of her book is that doctors are often not very bright; additionally, a doctor's intentions are sometimes questionable. Rich gradually realizes that no one is going to be her advocate -- so she chooses to speak up for herself. A strong opening is not enough; a book also needs a harrowing conclusion. Rich hits all of her marks. *"Shadow and Bone." Leigh Bardugo has invented a fantasy world in which everyone speaks something like Russian; a tear in the fabric of the universe is called "the Shadow Fold," and monsters named  volcra  lurk within the Fold. There is one girl who can fight the volcra; if she cuts open her arm, a flood of light spil...

A Bad Musical

 Alex Timbers hinted, in "Moulin Rouge," that his personal mission is to make Broadway even dumber. In "Just in Time," he seals the deal. This almost incredibly lazy musical makes a standard error: conflating a life with a plot. A plot has rising action, leading to a climactic turning point; the plot then finds a denouement. This is not how life works. God is not a storyteller. Life is one damn thing after another after another. Good writers sometimes get confused about plot. Even "Hamilton" gets a case of "biopic dreariness" in Act Two; somewhere around the third hour, you begin to hear coughing and lozenge-fondling "in the house." But "Hamilton" has rich characters and well-built songs--so the writer is able to paper over some structural issues. That's not the case with "Just in Time." Start with the title. I know it's a song that Bobby Darrin performed. (He didn't write it, and he didn't release th...

On New York

  It's a special pleasure to have a fight on a street in New York City. Yesterday, I crossed in a crosswalk--realized my directional error halfway through--and reversed course. An impatient driver honked at me. It was at this point that my choices became sketchy. I could have floated away on a serene Mel Robbins cloud--"Let Them!" But instead, drunk with fury, I approached the windshield and waved my middle finger in the driver's face. Naturally, the driver rolled down his window. "You're an idiot!" he screamed. But, I too, was bubbling over with eloquence. "FUCK YOU!" There was no beer summit--no meeting of the minds. The driver lost interest and sped away. "You're blocking the doorway!" shouted an usher--as I tried to make my way into a theater. And, later, "Do NOT stand on the stage!" A fight is diverting--but, also, I'm happy (today) to be somewhere that is not New York.