“One of the things people always say to you if you get upset is, don’t take it personally, but listen hard to what’s going on and, please, I beg you, take it personally. Understand: every attack on Hillary Clinton for not knowing her place is an attack on you. Underneath almost all those attacks are the words: get back, get back to where you once belonged. When Elizabeth Dole pretends that she isn’t serious about her career, that is an attack on you. The acquittal of O.J. Simpson is an attack on you. Any move to limit abortion rights is an attack on you — whether or not you believe in abortion. The fact that Clarence Thomas is sitting on the Supreme Court today is an attack on you.”— Nora Ephron, ‘96 Wellesley commencement address (via katiecookies)
I was familiar with the story because I recently read the 2008 New Yorker feature by David Grann, The Chameleon. If you’re interested in seeing this film, maybe skip anything previously written and approach the characters blindly. This is truly an unbelievable story. This film will open in NYC in July at select theaters.
A Creed-loving Croatian hitman who prides himself on putting the victim first in professional killing, finds himself on the lam after a bad kill in New Jersey. He punches a stolen ticket to Reykjavik and finds himself in Iceland, a land long on daylight and short on guns. That is, his worst nightmare. Written by Iceland’s most famous contemporary writer, the author did an admirable job getting into the head of a Croatian soldier who survived a civil war. The anti-hero’s mishearing of the Icelandic language and his outsider’s perspective on this strange land set this book something apart from all of the other Nordic crime fiction on the shelves.
“When people asked why I had left government, I explained that I’d come home not only because of Princeton’s rules (after two years of leave, you lose your tenure), but also because of my desire to be with my family and my conclusion that juggling high-level government work with the needs of two teenage boys was not possible. I have not exactly left the ranks of full-time career women: I teach a full course load; write regular print and online columns on foreign policy; give 40 to 50 speeches a year; appear regularly on TV and radio; and am working on a new academic book. But I routinely got reactions from other women my age or older that ranged from disappointed (“It’s such a pity that you had to leave Washington”) to condescending (“I wouldn’t generalize from your experience. I’ve never had to compromise, and my kids turned out great”).”—Magazine - Why Women Still Can’t Have It All - The Atlantic
“It’s rare that a modern-dance concert hits all the right notes: a good length (leaving you wanting more but still feeling that you’ve got your money’s worth); well-crafted pieces presented in a sensible order; alert, engaging performers with great technical skill; dances that show humor and drama in equal measure; and accessibility. (That last can be tricky—to some, “accessible” indicates a dumbing down in order to draw an audience, but it is really about engaging and involving spectators.) The recent performances of Keigwin Company, at the Joyce, hit those notes, and were accessible in the best sense.”—
You don’t expect an interview with a major sports star to be so quietly compelling.
From Public Radio International’s Bullseye with Jesse Thorn:
R.A. Dickey is a pitcher for the New York Mets, and the only man in the majors currently throwing a knuckleball. His new memoir, Wherever I Wind Up: My Quest For Truth, Authenticity and the Perfect Knuckleball, is a story of perseverance more than anything. He had a difficult childhood marked by abuse and poverty, but found his gift in baseball. Early on in his career, the Texas Rangers offered Dickey a lucrative contract but retracted it when they discovered a physical abnormality that theoretically should have kept him from playing ball. Dickey then bounced back and forth between the major and minor leagues and says he floundered, personally and professionally. But he stuck with it, and worked on mastering the wildly unpredictable knuckleball pitch (and finally found stability and peace in his relationships with his family and friends). Now, at age 37 Dickey is just hitting the prime of his career while many players of his age have long since retired. If anything, the knuckleball means his best days may still be ahead of him.
R.A. sits down with us to discuss his search for peace from a troubled past, the art of throwing the perfect knuckleball, and exactly why he names his bats after fantasy swords. Wherever I Wind Up is available in bookstores now.
“All well and good, right? Women should feel free not to have babies, or not to get married, as they see fit. That’s the mark of a progressive society! Except, if that’s the case, why do we have to keep talking, talking, talking about it? And why do these kinds of articles pop up again and again for women, who need (someone has decided) to remind themselves repeatedly of why their decision is OK, even good. Really, really, it is! We promise! Thus, on a platter for your unmarried, child-free self are another set of reasons why; print them out, stick them to your sad-sack single-lady fridge, keep them handy for when that neighbor across the Thanksgiving table asks your mom what’s wrong with you that you’re not married and having kids already. Because it would be too much to say, simply, that’s not what I’m doing. Or to refuse to acknowledge the question.”—
“Yes, but. Yes, but, and the “yes” gets softer and the “but” gets louder. And this happens all the time, because despite what they say, people like what they already know. The power of routine is enormous.”—
Everything You Need to Know About My Feelings for the Telephone
This morning I realized that I have been mishearing the lyrics of Lady Gaga (& Beyonce’s) Telephone. The lyric is “tonight I’m not takin’ no calls cause I’ll be dancing.” For years I thought they lyric was “and I am not takin’ no calls cause I’ll be dead soon.”
You don’t actually know anything about Michael Ian Black, but I do because I read this book. Yes, this book is “darkly hilarious” but it’s also darkly honest and darkly heartfelt. It’s not often that you hear a man, especially a man with such a well-defined public persona, talking honestly about marriage, depression, couples counseling and why he hates his baby. So it’s quite a parlor trick when you realize in the last chapter that the whole book has been a love letter to his wife the whole time. The joke is on us (and on fat Kevin Federline).