Cancel Culture

When the Pew Research Center recently asked working journalists to pick one word to describe the media, the overwhelming plurality, nearly 50 percent, picked words such as chaos and struggling—with financial insecurity, with organizational dysfunction. Gone is the age when independent writers could make a living reporting; gone is the age when veteran editors knew how to market books; gone even is the recent age when Twitter celebrity sold books. Eve Fairbanks, The Atlantic

un bell'articolo sulla cancel culture. 

Inoltre: il progresso morale avanza di pari passo a quello scientifico e tecnologico? Un bel libro esplora la questione: MacAskill, What We Owe the Future (Basics).

Oxford philosopher William MacAskill thinks morality requires us to take care of the future. His new book, What We Owe the Future, seeks to explain what this obligation amounts to, and intervenes in various philosophical debates about morality and moral status. What We Owe the Future is written in a simple style, a shining example of the conventions of the analytic philosophy tradition—conventions from which many philosophers quickly depart when writing for the public. His views are stated so clearly as to resemble slogans but defended so rigorously as to seem the opposite. “You can shape the course of history,” MacAskill writes—and, he adds, you ought to. Oliver Traldi, City Journal

Diane Arbus e Yuval Noah Harari

hanno molto poco in comune, se non che questa settimana ho trovato due articoli interessanti su di loro, e quindi si trovano, qui, in compagnia.

On the other hand, in Arbus’ case, the photograph might be the weapon. To enter Cataclysm—a facsimile of the Museum of Modern Art exhibition that so disturbed Sontag, staged on its 50th anniversary by the David Zwirner galley—is to be zapped across the room by the close-ups on the opposite wall. Tightly framed (or cropped), Arbus’ subjects typically stare directly into the camera. The show is something of a confrontation. J. Hoberman, Tablet

in occasione di una mostra: "Cataclysm: The 1972 Diane Arbus Retrospective Revisited" at David Zwirner from September 14 through October 22, 2022, at 537 W 20th St, New York, NY 10011

e su Hariri:

The best-selling author is a gifted storyteller and popular speaker. But he sacrifices science for sensationalism, and his work is riddled with errors. Darshana Narayanan, Current Affairs

The Golden Mole

But this is a 21st-century bestiary, and rather than trying to slot animals, birds and fish into a Christian worldview, Rundell – author of wondrous children’s books and recently a thrilling biography of John Donne – is arguing urgently for their survival. Samantha Ellis, The Guardian

si parla di The Golden Mole and Other Living Treasure, di Katherine Rundell (Faber).

Follow the Leader

Whether it’s because of the uncertain times in which we live, the dismal nature of our political leaders, or the rise of rightwing populism, we have had a spate of books in recent years on leadership in modern history. From Frank Dikötter’s How to Be a Dictator to Henry Kissinger’s Leadership, the format seems to be to string together chapters on various world leaders who changed the course of history, for good or bad, and reflect on the patterns between them.

The latest offering is Ian Kershaw’s Personality and Power, in which the great historian of Hitler and his movement pens a dozen lucid portraits of the leaders – half of them dictators, the others democrats, to varying degrees – who shaped Europe’s 20th century. Orlando Figes, The Guardian

Texting etiquette

It’s ironic. Texting was meant to make communication easier, but it can be much harder to discern someone’s tone over text, especially with inflections as subtle as sarcasm. 

It’s not as straightforward as tacking a crying-laughing-face emoji onto the end of a message either—sorry, but you are officially Old if you unironically use emojis. Your options are “lol” (which can sometimes come across as quite passive aggressive), “haha” (again, this sounds too abrupt), or, my personal favourite, “lmao” (which translates as a hyperbolic but less blunt “laughing my ass off,” for those who didn’t know). That said—“loool” or “hahahaha” are also good options. Serena Smith, Prospect

in effetti mi rendo conto di quanto siamo diventati bravi a individuare le emozioni nei messaggini! Sempre riguardo la nuova tecnologia e la sua ingerenza ovunque, anche nei sentimenti e nell'arte, da leggere l'articolo di John Herrman intitolato "Intelligencer" sul New York Magazine.

infine un bell'articolo sul lavoro che sta dietro all'uscita di un'opera letteraria straniera (scouting, traduzione, editing, ecc.), "Breaking Into English" di Lily Meyer, Los Angeles Review of Books 

Ian McEwan

Ian McEwan, slumped on a comfortable couch in the large formal sitting room of his Cotswolds manor house, dazzling early-summer sun filtering through the tall, narrow windows, tells me he has been suffering from a protracted bout of pessimism. Adam Begley, The Atlantic

bel ritratto dello scrittore. E anche, come è nata l'idea dei libri per bambini, Choose Your Own Adventure Books:

You were a girl who wanted to choose your own adventures. Which is to say, you were a girl who never had adventures. You always followed the rules. But, when you ate an entire sleeve of graham crackers and sank into the couch with a Choose Your Own Adventure book, you got to imagine that you were getting into trouble in outer space, or in the future, or under the sea. You got to make choices every few pages: Do you ask the ghost about her intentions, or run away? Do you rebel against the alien overlords, or blindly obey them? Leslie Jamison, The New Yorker

Jean Rhys

There isn’t an adjective more appropriate than “haunted” to describe the deeply troubled, self-lacerating, and finally (to a degree) triumphant life of the Caribbean-born Jean Rhys. As presented by Miranda Seymour in I Used to Live Here Once [Norton], her richly detailed, exhaustively researched, and warmly sympathetic new biography, Rhys appears to have been haunted by memories of her girlhood on the small, largely impoverished island of Dominica, then a British colony. Joyce Carol Oates, The New York Review

How Toxic Is Masculinity?

Ten years ago, Hanna Rosin’s book, “The End of Men,” argued that feminism had largely achieved its aims, and that it was time to start worrying about the coming obsolescence of men. American women were getting more undergraduate and graduate degrees than American men, and were better placed to flourish in a “feminized” job market that prized communication and flexibility. For the first time in American history, they were outnumbering men in the workplace. “The modern economy is becoming a place where women hold the cards,” Rosin wrote.The events of the past decade—the rise of Trump, the emergence of the #MeToo movement, the overturning of Roe v. Wade—have had a sobering effect on this sort of triumphalism. The general tone of feminist rhetoric has grown distinctly tougher and more cynical. Zoë Heller, The New Yorker

inoltre, un lungo articolo/chiacchierata su e con Ian McEwan, che parla dell'attacco a Salman Rushdie e del suo nuovo libro, Lessons (Vintage).

We had met earlier in the summer to discuss McEwan’s epic new novel, Lessons, in which the fatwa issued against Rushdie for The Satanic Verses in 1989 appears as part of the novel’s far-reaching look at postwar British history. “It was a watershed moment for those of us around Salman,” he says now. For writers, intellectuals and artists in the 70s or 80s, religion wasn’t an issue: “We didn’t even deny religion, it just didn’t come up.” So when the fatwa was decreed, “it was explosive. It cut across the sort of multicultural assumptions we had at the time. People whom we naturally most wanted to defend from racism were burning books in Bradford.” Lisa Allardice, The Guardian

Should revenge ever be a part of justice?

I think revenge may also be a way of dealing with grief.[...] Perhaps their strength of feeling was linked to a kind of survivor’s guilt, a sense they would be letting the victim down if they did not try to ensure the murderer suffered as much as possible. I suspect such feelings will only have made their bereavement worse – as the adage goes, hating someone else is like taking poison yourself and waiting for them to die. But as a response to trauma, it is not inevitable. For every vengeful family member of a homicide victim, another will choose not to be, feeling that retribution and hatred won’t do anything to replace their loss or assuage their pain. It seems a complex matter of conditioning, choice, and sometimes religious belief that sends individuals in either direction; I count myself fortunate that I’ve not had to stand at that junction myself, and don’t wish to judge anyone who has. Gwen Adshead, The Guardian

un articolo molto interessante, con una bibliografia altrettanto interessante.  Inoltre, dieci libri non mainstream su Israele:

What constitutes a literature of Israel? Is it the holy triumvirate of Amos Oz, AB Yehoshua and David Grossman? I don’t really think so. Is it the poetry of Chaim Nachman Bialik? Maybe. Or could it be the marginal pamphlets and pocket books of long-forgotten Zionist romance and pulp Hebrew detectives, where David Tidhar – no relation – reigned supreme? Is it the westerns, horror novels and softcore porn by such delightfully named authors as “Mike Longshott” and “Kim Rockman”, that one can still find on dusty shelves or in the Jaffa flea market from time to time? Lavie Tidhar, The Guardian

segnalo infine un articolo sul nostro Italo Svevo, "The Italian Proust," l'autore è Nathaniel Rich, ed è uscito sul The New York Review

The Draw of the Sea

It was a tragedy that sent novelist Wyl Menmuir to the “demi-island” of Cornwall, with its long and sinuous shoreline. In 2011, his first child was stillborn and he went with his wife down to the wild north coast of the county to escape. It was winter, and cold, and yet he walked into the ocean. “And for a few moments the grief wasn’t silenced so much as confronted by a wall of deafening white noise muting its constant scream. The sea’s great indifference was a comfort in a way I can’t easily explain and it continues to play its part.” Alex Preston, The Guardian