Vladimir Nabokov tells us, “One cannot read a book: one can only reread it.” Only on a third or fourth reading, he claims, do we start behaving toward a book as we would toward a painting, holding it all in the mind at once. He does not mention forgetting, but it’s clear that this is what he is largely talking about.
Julie Taymor declared recently that A Midsummer Night’s Dream is “unfilmable.” The remark was intended not to disparage her own just-released movie version of the play, but to define what it is: a record of a stage production. Cinematic art direction and special effects, however cunning, cannot adequately substitute for the very different kind of magic that actors can create out of the tension of being live on stage.
I usually have no patience for “happy family” literature, not to mention the contemporary habit of adults reading mediocre books for “young adults,” whoever they might be. But when I read Astrid Lindgren’s Seacrow Island (1964), for the first time this spring, I liked it so much that I consumed it slowly, like a savored cake. A month later I read it again, perhaps even more deliberately. It is a beautiful book, for adult readers as well as the children to whom it could be read.
Three years ago, The Municipal Archives received a call from the NYPD, wanting to know whether they could help dispose of a roomful of photographic material stored at One Police Plaza. The final yield amounted to about 180,000 images from perhaps 50,000 cases, ranging from an uncertain point prior to 1914 all the way to 1972. These pictures are of undeniable photographic significance.
It hardly needs emphasizing that the desire for freedom in jazz is bound up with the larger dreams of freedom itself. Ornette Coleman tended to play down the connection between his musical project and the larger social turbulence of which it might have seemed a product and expression. When did it begin, this longing for freedom of which Ornette’s music is the undying expression?
Laudato Si’, finally released this morning in Rome, is a remarkable 183-page document, incredibly rich—it’s not dense, but it is studded with aphorisms and insights. This marks the first time that a person of great authority in our global culture has fully recognized the scale and depth of our crisis, and the consequent necessary rethinking of what it means to be human.
When a Republican politician, asked about climate change, says, “I’m not a scientist,” most of us hear just a cowardly way of dodging the question; but the politician’s supporters hear a brave defiance of an alien force. They summon a courage not to know. Even when Pope Francis’s new encyclical on climate change introduces a concern for the poor into the environmental discussion, conservative Catholics will think him nice but naive, and suspect the Devil fooled him.
I’ve felt at home in cities as diverse and foreign to me as Barcelona, Krakow, Mexico City, and Sarajevo. All I need is a street full of people and I’m happy. Like most of our habits, my love of street life has its origins in my childhood. I was lonely and miserable, but was not always bored, and at times almost happy seeing so many strange and interesting things. If anything made me who I am, living like a vagrant in the streets did.
There are numerous uncertainties about what will happen on November 8 of 2016, but one thing is not in doubt: it will be a very peculiar election, and not just because there are, as of now, so many candidates. It’s also that some candidates were running before they announced. And it will almost certainly be the most expensive election in history, with the wealthiest in the land able to have more influence than ever.
The Arab Spring is now on the verge of turning into an Islamic fundamentalist winter, whether we like it or not. With Arab money and persuasion, al-Qaeda’s Syrian and Yemeni branches have changed profoundly and are gaining capacity for local governance. However distasteful the jihadist ideology behind them, these efforts suggest an alternative that may be considerably less threatening than the Islamic State.